#same mom who will step out of line while checking out to grab something last min

[starry-crossed]

astarion fully in the portal acting like the kid at the grocery store that’s more than ready to go home, but whose mom has been “just saying hi real quick!” to her friend she ran into for the last half hour

[scarlettjade420]

It's a world where many people have powers. while it may not be the majority, it's certainly not uncommon. about 40% of the population has some kind of ability around the entirety of the world. One would think life to be easier for these individuals, however that's not at all the case for most. These people are viewed as dangerous by the majority of the population. often separated from the rest. however, the government has (kind of) worked on making this separation equal. they may go to a separate school, but it's required to be equally funded or else shut down. they can go to the same food places, but are usually only allowed on on side that may be slower run. you get the idea. However no amount of laws or regulations will stop people with powers or abilities from having a harder life. who don't. especially for those born into a family who does not hove these powers. ~~~~~~~~~ bam! bam! bam! "Onyx! get out here or you'll be late for freak school!" i hear my mom scream from outside the door. unknowingly to her, I'd been up for an hour already. "'freak school?' how childish of an insult..what ever" i mutter to myself. i pull myself up, already haven gotten dressed, and i start to brush my hair and finish getting ready for a day of hell. i mean school. hm..my dark roots are coming in..i need to redye my hair. making my way out to the kitchen, i grab my mug and pour myself a cup of coffee. as i stand in the kitchen for a moment, leaning over the counter, i hear my sibling come in. They jump up to sit on the counter facing towards me. something i would have been metaphorically murdered for doing. They help their sketch book and pencil in their hand, and already i knew what it was they needed. "Onyx, what does a flame look like? Boogle sucks at giving me good reference images!" i chuckle slightly and think a moment, trying to listen for the nearest and loudest sound at the moment. i focus on the sound of the old coffee pot struggling, going 'i think i can i think i can i think i can' to try and make the last cup of coffee for this pot. that of course will be drunk up within minutes. i focus on the sound and begin to bend it to create an image in the air in front of me and my Sibling. as a flickering unstable image dances in front of them, Kai's face grows and smiles. their face soon changes to concentration as they start sketches on their paper, looking at my flickering illusion for reference. "sorry it's not more stable. the howling coffee pot isn't usually the most ideal sound to use" i state as they erase a few lines. "it's ok!" they look around to check who of the family is in earshot. "i still think it's so cool that you're able to do that at all..even with dad's dyeing coffee pot" they say with a little above a wispier, knowing they'd be scolded by our parents if they heard them say that. i smile and nod a thank you, and wait for them to finish their drawing before i wipe away the image from in front of us. Soon i must finish getting ready. i grab my backpack and go down a mental check list to make sure i have everything. books, laptop, pens, pencils, paper, notebooks, chargers, ect. once I've got everything i grab my lanyard with my keys and ID card on it, and grab my phone before making my way out the front door. "don't forget to step in front of a buss on your way back!" i hear from my older brother as i close the door. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ defiantly gonna continue writing this, maybe even get to a full story. but for now, here is this. pt.1?

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 12: Lemonade

Fandom: Carmen Sandiego

Rating: G

Summary: A while back, I wrote a post-series fic that mentioned some of the kids at the orphanage setting up a lemonade stand. Basically, in this fic, Carmen patronizes said stand.

“Wow, Carmen, I’m impressed.” The creak of Player leaning back in his chair filtered through Carmen’s earrings. “You actually made it through the grocery store in less than an hour, even with all those Christmas cookie ingredients your mom tacked on.”

“What can I say?” Carmen grinned, laden bags swinging with her easy strides. “Practice makes perfect.” She could distinctly hear the smug note creeping into her words, but allowed it.

Usually when she did a grocery run for her mom, it took her well over an hour, between navigating far too many supermarket aisles that never seemed to be in the same place from week to week, trying to remember if there was a difference between the dozen plus brands of rice (it was rice! How could they all be different?), or the name of that *one* brand of frozen chicken nuggets the ninos liked best. But today? Today had been an unquestioned personal life-skills success, all thanks to-

“Uh-huh...Your mom got *really* specific on her list, didn’t she?”

Crud.

The self-satisfied strides faltered over a crack in the cement. Sometimes she was amazed at just *how* little she really could hide from player.

“Come on, Red.” Player said, no doubt hearing the abashed flush creeping up her neck. “Last week you couldn’t find the rice again and kept asking me if I remembered what brands you bought last time. No one gets *that* good at grocery shopping in a week.”

“Alright, fine.” Carmen huffed in mock annoyance, rolling her eyes. “Maybe that had a little something o do with it. But you have to admit: checking out was all on me.”

“Mmm, good point.” Player presumably nodded, and she could just pick up the faint sounds of him reachingfor a fidget spinner whose presence was confirmed by the faint whirring sounds that followed. “It’s not everyone who can pick one line and stick to it instead of jumping from one to the next because the other one must be faster.”

Carmen huffed. So she wasn’t used to standing still in a line; could you blame her?

“You’re taking advantage of being in a different hemisphere, aren’t you?”

“Maybe...” A tease coursed through the singsong. “Either way, you can make me pay for it in next month. You still coming up after New Year’s?”

“Counting the days.” Carmen grinned as she traversed the final crosswalk separating the store from the orphanage. “I-“

Lemonade!”

“Ice cold lemonade!”

High, piping voices bounded past Carmen the second her sneaker found the sidewalk. Instantly, her eye found the source of the commotion: a battered card table with matching folding chairs set up on the inside of the fence guarding the orphanage yard. A sign, dripping letters still shiny with wet, hung off the front, depicting in bold, attention grabbing strokes whose mentor was the Sunday advertising circulars in the paper, a pitcher of butter yellow-

“Lemonade!” Isabel’s voice rang again across the street as, with arms swept wide and enticing like a game show hostess, she indicated the brimming pitcher glinting proudly on the tabletop. “Fresh and homemade from the finest ingredients!”

“Only fifty cents a cool refreshing cup!” Julio hawked next to her in his best showman voice.

“Something up, Red?” Player asked when she didn’t finish her earlier thought.

“Looks like a couple of entrepreneurs opened up shop. Julio and Isabel set up that lemonade stand they’ve been talking about.”

“And let me guess:” Player said as Carmen set her bags down on the sidewalk. “You suddenly have a craving for the stuff?”

“It’s a hot day.” She said breezily as she stepped onto the grass.

“Suit yourself, but my cousins ran a stand like that once, and I think I should warn you-“

“It’s a lemonade stand, Player,” Carmen cut in glibly as she approached the fence. “I think I can handle that.” Then, as a skeptical sound trickled through her comms, called out a cheerful, “Hola!”

“Carmen!” Both kids said in unison. “Quieres comprar lemonade?”

“I would, muchas gracias.” Carmen reaches into her pocket for her wallet and pulled out a dollar, dropping it in their money jar with a wink.

A Dixie cup was- “Cuidado, Julio!” -expertly filled, never mind the wayward puddle of pale yellow on the tabletop, and Carmen nodded gratefullly as they passed it to her through the fence, Julia remarking with a rooster’s stance “It’s our special recipe.” Raising it to her lips, she took a long, refreshing-

Oh, God!

“My,” Carmen coughed, fighting to keep as much of a cordial expression as she could muster plastered on her face. “That’s...sweet.”

Really, ‘sweet’ was being generous. Once when she was five, bored, and unsupervised she’d helped herself to sugar straight from the bag, and *that* was less saccrine than the concoction she just downed.

“We used real sugar *and* honey.” Isabel announced proudly.

“And real Kool-Aid mix.” Julio contributed. “Do you like it?”

“It’s...” Carmen worked her mouth ostensibly to better assess the taste even Zach’s indiscriminate palate would have shrank from. Crud, this really was terrible, but- she looked from one eager shining face to the other- yeah, no way she could say that. Not really a fan of lying, though.... (you know, in her personal life).

For a beat she scrambled for a response both honest and considerate of nine year old feelings before finally landing on the ever-diplomatic, “...Like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

Player cackled in her ear as the kids, oblivious to the multiple ways that statement could be interpreted, squealed with delight that Carmen, who had traveled the whole world, praised their lemonade! Well, only one thing to say to that!

“Want more?”

“Uh, no, no.” Carmen said with a speed that was not a credit to her training in maintaining a cover. “It’s early and I, uh, wouldn’t want you to run out just yet.”

“We don’t mind.” Julio said, carefully aiming the pitcher’s spout at a second Dixie.

“Plus....” Carmen cast about *not* desperately before remembering the bulging grocery bags. “I...need to take in the groceries.“ Grinning enticingly, she added. “Including the stuff you need to bake cookies.”

Which would hopefully turn out better than the lemonade.

“Aw, yeah!” Isabel pumped her first as Julio cheered, and Carmen waved as she headed back to the sidewalk, discreetly dumping the rest of the ‘lemonade’ down the storm drain as she bent for the bag.

“It’s not that funny,” Carmen chided as Player continued to laugh without remorse.

“Sorry but I tried to warn you.”

“Yet you’re still laughing.”

“Can you blame me?” he said, sobering somewhat. “You’re runnng from lemonade.”

Carmen grinned to herself as she turned the knob and left the oven of the outdoors for air conditioned cool. He had a point; she wasn’t so proud to not be able to see the humor of the situation. Still-

“Tell no one?”

“My lips are sealed.”

[charliespringsleftconverse]

The Barbie movie resonates so deep. And I didn’t realize it until days later. When I saw the movie I was like, “That was nice. That message was too loud for my taste but nice.”

And then I went about my normal life, and life did her thing. Laughed in my face is what she did. She said “oh, you don’t see how the (America Ferreira’s) monologue relates to you? Hold on to your piña colada, bestie.”

I’ve always taken care of my family. I’m always making sure everyone feels heard and no one gets left behind. You’re not feeling well and need to stay back? I’ll stay with you. What do you need. Are people speaking over you? Let me capture their attention so you can express your opinion. Just so many things. Little things of course. But they accumulate.

I’ve always felt like a mother to my brother and I always kind of chucked it to being the oldest. You’re supposed to watch out for the little ones, no? He’s always been prone to tantrums so Ive always had to teach him that we don’t throw our shoes at people when playtime is over. But I’ve always been the only one doing the teaching. For my parents, I’ve always had to apologize for their behavior because my dad is oblivious to what he does and doesn’t do and my mom exhibits the same anger driven behaviors my younger sibling has learned.

This entire week that we were supposed to be on vacation everything felt multiplied. My brothers anger was over the roof when we didn’t see eye to eye. My dads obliviousness skyrocketed and he was always walking a million steps ahead of us in these sketchy places almost like he was racing an invisible force, leaving all of us to fend for ourselves. My mother‘s frustrations at everyday life was a constant from not just the heat but especially to things beyond her power because she couldn’t control unexpected events.

I’m always the one to apologize to my brother. I’m always the one calling out my dad. I’m always the one reassuring my mom that all will be well. I’m always the one. And I didn’t realize how exhausting and draining it was until I was the one who needed help.

Now that we’re on our way home from this “vacation,” my body became physically exhausted and started trembling from exhaustion the day before. I got a cold yesterday. And today, while brushing my teeth, I somehow managed to pull a back muscle and can’t bend and barely sit down. I was sharing a room with my brother when that last one happened and through all the deep lamas breathing and yelps, not once did my brother ask if I was okay. And when I told him, he didn’t ask how he could help. So I explained that I just needed him to massage a spot on my back. And when my dad called us asking where we were because the taxi arrived 30min early, I got nervous because I had spent all morning trying to get my back to work properly rather than getting ready. So I wasn’t ready yet. And I started crying. And my brother told my dad I was hysterical and stressed because the taxi was there…rather than explaining I needed help and was in pain. And within a minute, my brother was downstairs. Leaving me to fend for myself with an injured back. I was barely able to get ready. My mom kind of helped. She was the only one to come into the room and check on me. I don’t know how I made it downstairs. Probably out of spite. Idk.

By the time we got to airport, everyone knew that my back was in pain. I put my backpack on and grabbed our bag full of everyone’s snacks and food and carried on. I’m doing an awkward walk across the airport, mostly shuffling. How I got my bag off my back and back on when going through airport security, I have no idea. I blacked out. Couldn’t tell you. Blame my cold.

As we’re getting to our gate, my dad asks if he wants me to give him the huge bag of snacks and things I’ve been carrying. And I just…like I’m at the gate already. I’m not sure where you’re going to carry it to. And what comes out of his mouth is something along the lines of “don’t get mad that you’re carrying all these things when help was offered.”

It’s like I’m supposed to be grateful for the crumbs. Like sir, what you’re offering is the bare minimum. And I’m suppose to accept it like it’s cold water and I just hiked the longest trail of my life. OH YES. THANK YOU THANK YOU. YOURE SO KIND. Like sir, at best, this is a baton race that I ran and you’re just standing on the finish line waiting for me so you can claim the win.

All in all to say that I only just now realized that I’m always watching out for everyone else but I forget that even those closest to me don’t care for me the same way. I’ve always been taught to be caring, to be giving, to put others first. That’s what a daughter should do. What a sister should do. And now here I am sitting in an airport, in a foreign country, congested and in pain only just now realizing that I forgot to care for myself. Because I wanted everyone else to be happy. I wanted everyone else to have a good time. And now here I am physically and emotionally sick. And all it took for this self realization was a damn Barbie movie.

There’s something ironic about a plastic doll teaching you about the human experience.

[nsheetee]

Awaken

Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.

“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”

“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”

Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.

“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.

“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.

“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”

“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”

“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.

After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.

You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.

He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.

He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.

“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.

“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”

“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.

It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.

Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.

“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.

“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.

In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.

You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.

“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.

The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.

His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.

“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.

“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.

“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.

“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”

It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.

“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.

“Why so many?” Chenle asks.

“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You  collect your luggage and head upstairs.

Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.

His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.

“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.

“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.

“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.

“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.

“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.

“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.

“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”

“But you’re a guest—”

“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.

“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.

Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.

From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.

As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.

As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.

“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.

Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.

“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.

“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.

“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”

“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.

“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.

Could you get anymore perfect for him?

You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”

Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.

“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out

what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?

Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.

You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.

Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.

His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.

Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.

He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?

‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.

Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.

His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.

But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.

Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.

He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.

Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.

Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.

Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.

He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.

You’re right there.

Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?

“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.

“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.

“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.

Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.

He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.

You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”

Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.

It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.

“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.

When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.

He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.

You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.

“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.

“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.

“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”

“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.

Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.

You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.

“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.

Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.

When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.

When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.

Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.

“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.

You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.

“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.

Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.

He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.

“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.

“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.

Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.

Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.

“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.

“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.

“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.

“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.

“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”

“What? What does that mean—”

“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.

[viastro]

catch me | lee jihoon

ミ★ synopsis: jihoon didn’t want any weaknesses, he couldn’t afford to have any. that’s why he ended your guys friendship. he couldn’t risk your life because of how dangerous his lifestyle is, but everything seems to crumble the moment he saves you for the first time.

ミ★ genre: best friends to strangers to lovers!au (kinda?), spiderman!woozi, action, angst, some suspense, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: since this is a superhero au, there will be violence in this oneshot as well as the mentions of some weapons (knives and guns). some suggestive jokes, minor character death

ミ★ word count: 13,787

ミ★ pairings: woozi x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! sorry this is so late, but here’s my 2,000 follower celebratory oneshot <33 i remembered how much you guys liked my spiderman!joshua oneshot, so i decided to write another one. i’d like to thank @thepixelelf​ for giving me the idea to make spiderman!woozi <33 i’m not very good at writing fighting scenes ?? and i feel like more could’ve been done, but this is the best i can do with my busy schedule ! sorry if it’s not up to par </333 this shit is long as fuck though holy shit why do i write so much helPBJEKSBRGKD anyways, make sure to give woozi lots of love ! thank you for 2,000 followers again, i’m so grateful to you all.

“You’ll never catch me!” You squeal, running around the playset as fast as your small legs will allow it. The similar sound of other children laughing and screaming from joy just by being at the playground ring in your ears. You turn back to see if your best friend is close behind you, only to let out a scream when you see him close enough to tag you.

“Uji! Go away!” You say with a laugh as you run under the slide, moving to sprint up the stairs. You’re only stopped once you feel Jihoon’s small hand grab onto your wrist, and you let out a whine. Turning your head, you see Jihoon standing behind you with a toothless smile. 

“I caught you, yn! I’ll always catch you, remember? You have to tag me now, we only have time for one more game because it looks like our moms are tired.” You pout at him, and he giggles, reaching out and patting down the flyaways of your hair. 

“But I hate being the tagger.” You whine, looking down at the ground to try and appeal to your best friend. Jihoon only smiles, shaking his head at you as he releases your hand from his grasp. He motions for you to cover your eyes, and you let out a sigh, before nodding your head.

“Count to ten. Okay, yn?” Jihoon asks you, and you find your lips morphing into a smile, nodding your head. You raise your hands up to your eyes, and Jihoon immediately begins to find a hiding spot. He turns his head to glance back at you as he runs, smiling when he hears you call out:

“One!”

You gasp awake, staring up at your dark ceiling. Your bedroom is silent, except for the quiet sound of your humidifier, a stark difference to that of the squeals from the playground. You roll over with a groan, reaching out and checking the time on your phone, just to let out a tired sigh. 

“Six in the morning? I don’t need to be awake until nine.” You whine, raising your hands up to cover your face. The remaining bittersweet feeling from the dream slowly drifts away as you feel your fatigue begin to take over. 

Before you drift off completely, you find yourself hoping that you’ll fall into the same dream again. For it’s the only place where you can speak to your ex-best friend, Lee Jihoon.

“Woozi, we have a quiz today! I can’t keep saving your ass from the professor.” Seungcheol says in exasperation as he attempts to keep up with his friend, internally wondering why no matter how hard he tries to match Jihoon’s pace, he’s unable to.

“Well you have to if you still want my mom’s kimchi! Please, I’ll make it up to you. Something came-”

“Something came up, I know, I know. Just text me when you get back to your apartment, okay? I’ll give you my notes later.” Jihoon quickly turns back to glance at his friend, letting out a grateful smile and nodding his head.

“Of course! I’ll see you later, Cheol.” Jihoon calls out in response, hurrying towards the exit of the university. Seungcheol just watches until that black head of hair disappears, before sighing and walking in the direction of their building. 

“Gonna make him buy me bbq this time, I swear to God.”

You tiredly enter the bank, needing to deposit cash from your recent tutoring job. Holding back a yawn, you walk over to the shortest line and step behind the last person. You pull out your phone and scroll through Twitter, beginning to question why you haven’t asked the parents if they could just pay you through Venmo. 

“Open the vault if you don’t want a bullet in your head!” Your eyes widen when you hear the loud voice boom in front of you. Glancing around, your heart falls into your stomach when you see a few of the other people who you presumed were also waiting to be helped by an employee, are now holding guns up towards innocent people. 

Your thumb moves on its own across your phone screen to call the police, but the cold sound of a click next to your ear makes you freeze. You don’t dare to move, staying frozen as you watch the other gunmen shove the innocent employees of the bank towards the corner. 

“I suggest you give me your phone and go join them if you don’t want your head blown to bits.” The man behind the gun says to you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you slowly move your phone in his direction, and he snatches it out of your hand. He nudges you with the butt of the gun, and you quickly make your way to the other people, sitting down beside one elderly man on the floor. 

“We’ll need to take all of your phones. For our safety, of course. I suppose for yours too, considering that if you call the cops then we’d have to kill you.” The man who pressed the gun against your head says with a smile, and you watch as everyone slowly reaches into their pockets or purses and holds it out. You presume he’s the leader when the other people in the group take the electronic devices and throw them into a box they stole. 

You look down at your trembling hands, intertwining your fingers together in an attempt to stop them from shaking, but to no avail. You sit in silence as you listen to the robbers discuss when their ride will get here, wondering how cold hearted they must be to not even care. 

“Someone. Please help us.” You quietly plead, feeling the elderly man begin to shake beside you as he holds back his own tears. 

“I don’t think that money belongs to you.” Your ears perk up at the sudden voice, looking up when you hear the sound of the front doors close. Your eyes widen when you see the familiar dark red and blue suited figure, the one you’ve seen on the news. 

“Spiderman.” You mutter, watching as the gunmen all turn towards him, guns aimed at the superhero’s head. The presumed leader of the group tilts his head with a laugh, still holding the backpack full of money in his hand. 

“And who are you to decide that?” The man asks, lazily switching off the safety of his gun as he holds it in Spiderman’s direction. You watch as the superhero shrugs his shoulders, looking like the definition of ease as he leans against the wall. 

“I pay my taxes.” Spiderman responds, and you bite back a laugh when you notice the twitch to the leader’s eye. The amusement almost immediately turns into fear when you watch the leader’s finger press on the trigger, and you unconsciously reach out towards the superhero. 

Everything moves faster than you can imagine.

Within seconds Spiderman has the leader’s hand trapped onto the wall with the spiderweb, and knocked the guns out of half of the robbers hands. You watch as he fights with a few of the other guys, and you hold back a scream when you hear the sound of a gun go off. Your eyes widen when you see one of the men fall to the ground, blood pooling around him. Your gaze trails over towards the leader, seeing him staring at the body with an indecipherable look on his face.

“We have to go while they’re distracted, come on.” You turn your head away from the sight and look up at the elderly man, watching as he holds his hand out towards you. You look around and see the other hostages speeding towards the exit, knowing that the superhero gave them the signal to run. 

You nod your head, reaching out and grabbing the elderly man’s hand. The two of you quickly walk towards the doors, the sound of grunts and fighting being heard from behind you. You’re about to reach the exit when you’re yanked backwards by the collar of your shirt, choking you in the process as an arm wraps around your neck. 

You almost let out a scream until you feel the familiar feeling of cool metal being placed on your temple, and your body immediately turns rigid in the hold of your captor. You flinch when you hear him whistle beside you, gaining the attention of the superhero. 

“Spiderboy! I suggest you don’t make any move to come closer unless you want a bullet in their head.” The familiar voice of the leader rings in your ear, and you clench your fist at your side. You take notice of the fact that Spiderman freezes the moment he looks in your direction, and you blink back tears when the head of the gun is pressed harder against your temple. 

“So you do listen to commands when someone’s life is at stake, good to know.” The man says, and Spiderman just stands there, staring at the two of you as the rest of the robbers lay on the floor. Either knocked out or held in place by the strong web that was shot at them. 

“Let them go.” Spiderman seethes, and your captor simply laughs, causing you to flinch. He tightens the grip he has around your neck, and you let out a squeak, causing the superhero to take a step forward. 

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t want to lose an innocent life today, don’t we?” Spiderman halts his movements when the man turns off the safety of the gun. The tears slip past your eyes from the sound, and you look at the superhero, silently begging him for help. 

Spiderman tightens his fist at his side from the sight of your tears, before tearing his gaze away from you and looking at your captor. “What do you want?” 

“Let my men and I-”

“Me and a few of my men.” The captor pauses, tilting his head at the superhero, wondering if Spiderman really just corrected him on his grammar in this situation. You even have to hold back a snort, which is an odd thing to do considering that you’re on the verge of losing your life if you make one wrong move.

“Let me and a few of my men take a few bags of money and go. I’ll let this,” Noticing the red and blue flashing lights coming through the windows, the man wiggles his arm around your neck a bit, constricting your airway as you let out a gasp for air.  “This civilian, go.” 

The two stare each other down for a bit, before Spiderman loosens his fist, nodding his head. Your eyes widen at the superhero willing to protect your life by letting the money be stolen. Your captor lets out a chuckle, before releasing his hold on your neck. You immediately fall to your knees, gasping for air as the tears fall from your eyes onto the tiled floor. 

“No funny business, Spidey.” The leader says, grabbing two backpacks full of money and nudging a few of the guys until they wake up. Spiderman doesn’t respond, instead rushing over to you and grasping your face in his hands. 

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you badly?” The superhero asks in concern as he checks over your features, but you don’t respond. Instead you stare at him in silence, suddenly wondering why his voice sounds so familiar, and why he’s holding your face so tenderly. 

“Who are yo-” 

“Oh! Spiderboy.” The two of you glance over towards the leader and a few of his men, now holding quite a few bags full of stolen money. Your eyes widen when he raises the gun in your direction, and Spiderman sharply inhales when he realizes what’s about to happen. 

“Never trust a conman.” The leader states, before pulling the trigger. 

The loud echo of the gunshot rings around the room, along with the sound of the doors opening and closing as the robbers try to escape. Your eyes slowly open when you don’t feel any pain, and you realize that you’re being held in the arms of Spiderman, hanging high from the ceiling. 

He slowly lowers you both back to the floor, and he lets you go as soon as your feet touch the tile. You slide down onto your knees, feeling dazed as to what just occurred. 

“Don’t get yourself into trouble again.” Spiderman says in a soft tone, and you slowly look up at him. The two of you stare at each other in silence, and you wonder if he’s always this worried about other people he saves.

You open your mouth to respond, only for the doors to slam open. You freeze, fear crawling up your throat at the thought that it may be the robbers, only to relax when you see the police and FBI enter, already beginning to make arrests. 

“Are you okay? Someone get this person a blanket!” An FBI agent orders once they walk up to you. They help you up off the floor, and you turn your head to look for the red and blue suited superhero, only to see that he’s disappeared without a trace. 

“Thank you, Spiderman.” You mumble, before getting escorted out of the bank. 

“Fuck.” Jihoon cries as he limps towards Seungcheol’s apartment, hand clutching onto his thigh in an attempt to stop the bleeding. As soon as he left the bank, he realized he didn’t leave unscathed as he flew through the city. He changed once he got to the alley where he put his stuff, and made his way to Seungcheol’s. 

Once Jihoon reaches the door, he immediately slams his fist onto it, desperately needing his friend to help him. “Woozi, I already told you how my neighbors feel about you banging on my front door.” Seungcheol says with a grin as he opens the door, having not looked up at his friend yet. It’s only when Jihoon practically crumbles onto the door frame that Seungcheol realizes the state he’s in, and he immediately pulls him inside. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” Seungcheol asks as he practically carries Jihoon into the bathroom, placing him onto the toilet. The blonde scrambles through his drawers, searching for the first aid kit. While Jihoon just grimaces in pain, rolling up his pants with a shaky leg to reveal the gunshot wound on his thigh. Seungcheol’s eyes widen, the first aid kit falling from his hands at the sight. 

“You got shot?!” Seungcheol hisses, and Jihoon just lets out a tired laugh, beginning to feel a bit faint. 

“I’ll explain later, but I can’t go to the hospital. I know you’re only an intern right now, but you’re the only one I trust. Please.” Jihoon pleads, and Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek harshly, before nodding his head. 

“I swear to God if you’re a drug dealer Jihoon-” 

“I’m not a drug dealer, you fucking buffoon.” 

“Oh my God.” Jihoon quietly eats the instant rice, letting Seungcheol go through the five stages of shock. He glances over at the blonde, finding him still staring down at the table with wide eyes.

“My best friend is Spiderman.” Seungcheol mutters, his hands going up and gripping his own hair as his eyes widen even more. Jihoon nods his head, reaching over and taking some kimchi, placing it into his mouth.

“That’s why he always left class at the most random times.” Seungcheol whispers, hands trailing down to cup his cheeks as all the pieces begin to come together. Jihoon continues to eat in silence as he lets his friend go through an existential crisis. He glances down at the stitches on his thigh, before looking back up at Seungcheol from across the table. 

“Thank you for stitching me up. The hospital would’ve asked a lot of questions and I couldn’t afford that.” Jihoon says, placing the empty bowl of rice on the table. Seungcheol finally looks up at his friend, and he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Is that why you suddenly got really strong in high school?” Seungcheol asks, completely missing the fact that Jihoon just thanked him. The black haired beauty nods his head in response, taking a sip of water. 

“Got bit by a weird spider on that field trip in junior year, and suddenly my hands were sticky and I could break sinks easily. It was a strange moment in my life.” Jihoon answers, and Seungcheol runs his hand through his hair again. Jihoon rolls his eyes, reaching out and slapping the blonde’s hand, making Seungcheol yelp. 

“You’re gonna go bald if you keep pulling your hair like that.” Seungcheol frowns, before leaning back in his seat and letting out a sigh. He glances over at Jihoon and raises an eyebrow when he finds him with a furrow to his brow. 

“Now you’re the one who looks like you’re going through an existential crisis. What’s on your mind?” Jihoon looks up from the table to find Seungcheol staring at him in concern, and he lets out a breath. Jihoon takes another sip of his water, before pursing his lips. 

“Yn was one of the hostages at the bank robbery today.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen at the mention of your name, having not heard Jihoon utter it since your guys’ falling out in high school. “I don’t know why the fuck the guy chose them to get to me, but he did.” 

“Is yn okay?” Seungcheol asks, and Jihoon nods his head. He looks off to the side, remembering the frantic look in your eyes as tears trailed down your cheeks. Biting his bottom lip, he stands up from the table and limps over to the couch. 

“Woozi.” 

“Yn’s fine, Cheol. I made sure of it. The stupid guys all got caught by the police and FBI outside anyways, I saw the blue and red lights. It’s the only reason I let them go. They can’t get to yn either, they don’t know shit about us.” Jihoon says with a sense of finality, laying down onto the couch and closing his eyes. Seungcheol nods his head, knowing better than to push his friend for more answers. 

“Spiderman doesn’t have any weaknesses that the public knows of. Yn’s safe.” Jihoon adds, soon falling asleep while clutching the throw pillow on his side. Seungcheol looks down at the table, wondering if Jihoon is saying that with confidence, 

Or in an attempt to convince himself.

You walk to your next class on campus, feeling self conscious from everyone’s stares as you do so. Reaching into your pocket, you turn up the volume on your earbuds, trying to block out everyone’s whispers. 

Everyone on campus knows of what occurred at the bank, and you’ve become a hot topic since you were saved by your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. The thought of his voice still lingers in your head, and the feeling of his hands cupping your face remains even if it’s been a week since the incident. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look down at the ground as you walk, attempting to pick up the pace so that you can get a seat in the back row of the auditorium. You’ve always been clumsy though, as you soon find yourself accidentally slamming into the shoulder of someone walking past you, making the person drop their books behind you. 

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, quickly pulling out your earbuds and bending down to pick up all the textbooks that fell onto the ground. Once you’ve grabbed all the books, you glance up, only to freeze when you look into those familiar brown eyes. Slowly you stand up from the ground, books in your arms as you and Jihoon stare at each other in silence, unsaid words being exchanged through your gazes.

“Jihoo-” The black haired beauty takes the books out of your grasp, and simply nods his head at you. 

“Thanks.” He mutters, before continuing on with his day, not another word or glance back at you as he does so. Your eyes trail after him for a moment, before you purse your lips, nodding your head at the sad reality that is, 

You and Jihoon aren’t best friends anymore.

You walk towards your apartment with the bag of takeout in your hand, feeling tired from the eventful day you had at university. Letting out a breath, you glance up at the sky for a moment as you walk, staring up at the cloudy skies. 

“When will the sun come back?” You mutter, wondering if a smidge of sunshine will be able to lift your spirits. Looking back down at the pavement, you freeze when you feel something sharp be pressed into the side of your stomach. 

“Give me all your money.” Tiredly, you turn your head, seeing a man with a black ski mask over his face as he stares at you. Glancing downwards, you find that he’s pressing a dull knife into your side, before boredly letting your eyes trail back up towards his face.

“Are you kidding me? Another robbery?” The robber tilts his head in confusion as to why you’re not afraid, watching as you look up towards the sky and send a middle finger towards the clouds. 

“God. You know that I’m a poor fucking college student, yet you continue to put me in these money stealing situations not once, but twice in the span a week?!” You shout, and the robber flinches slightly at the anger in your tone. Letting out a sigh, you turn back towards the masked man, staring at him for a moment. 

“I hope you can still have children after this, but then again, you shouldn’t be robbing people. Especially broke college students, have you even looked at my backpack? So you know what? Fuck you actually.”

“What?”

Without another word, you rest both hands on the robber’s shoulders, and with as much force as you can, knee him right in the crotch. The man lets out a shriek, falling to his knees, knife hitting the sidewalk as they clutch their poor genitals. 

“I fucking hate it here. My backpack literally has holes in it and I have a bag of takeout from the cheapest restaurant in town. Are you dumb? Why would you try to rob me?” You rant to yourself as you take the knife and chuck it down the alleyway. The man calls out to you, and you shoot him a glare, before turning around and walking away. 

“Sick and tired of this bullshit.” You grumble, about to turn the corner when you hear footsteps coming from behind you. Your eyes widen, fear taking over as you impulsively start to walk faster, wondering if the man already healed from the fact that you destroyed his chances of having children. 

You’re about to break into a full on sprint when you hear two bodies collide behind you, followed by a grunt of pain. Slowly you turn your head, just to find the robber hanging upside down in a web from the top of the streetlight, and your eyes slowly trail down to see the red and blue suited figure staring at you.

“Spiderman?”

“I thought I told you not to get into any trouble again.” The superhero states, walking towards you after making sure that the robber is unconscious. You raise an eyebrow, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “You think I’m trying to get robbed and murdered?”

Spiderman shrugs his shoulders, now standing directly in front of you. “Considering that this is the second time I’ve come to save you in a span of a week-”

“Are you complaining about your job to me right now, Spiderman?” You ask with a grin, and the superhero pauses, before letting out a sigh. You chuckle, tilting your head at the red and blue suited figure standing before you. 

“Just. Be safe, please.” He says in a softer tone, and you feel warmth flood your face slightly. You stare at him for a moment, wondering why he seems so familiar, and why he cares so much for you. 

Jihoon searches your eyes through the mask, somehow feeling both heartbroken and happy. Heartbroken because him being in the suit is the only reason he can speak to you right now. Happy because he’s able to see you, even if it’s only for a brief moment.

He nods his head before you can ask any questions, preparing to shoot a web to swing away, but you reach out and grasp his wrist. Jihoon sucks in a breath, turning back to glance at you, “Yes?”

“If I happen to be in a situation like this again-”

“Which you won’t.” Spiderman states, and you nod your head, but give him a small smile. 

“Will you come save me?” You ask, and the red and blue suited figure stares at you in silence for a second, before nodding his head. 

“Of course.” Spiderman mutters, and you bite the inside of your cheek, letting go of his arm so that he can swing away. You raise your hand up and wave at him with a smile on your face, 

“Bye, Spiderman.” 

Jihoon’s heart warms at the sight of your smile, sending you a wave as he shoots a web towards the top of the building. 

“Bye, yn.” You watch as Spiderman swings away from you, staring until he’s out of sight. Reaching into your pocket, you call the cops to make sure that the robber gets arrested, before walking in the direction of your apartment. 

It’s when you’re about to enter the building that you pause, turning back to glance behind you when you realize. 

“How does Spiderman know my name?”

“You said their NAME?!” Seungcheol yells from across the table, and Jihoon flinches back from the volume. He lets out a frustrated sigh, slapping his own face for his stupidity in the moment. 

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know why I said their name! It just slipped out when they waved at me with a smile on their face!” Jihoon responds, looking out the window as he recalls the warm look on your face as you stared at him. His expression morphs into a scowl, wondering why he let himself do that.

“As long as yn doesn’t get into trouble again, it should be fine. I won’t have to run into them anymore.” Jihoon mumbles, letting out a sigh as he rests his forehead down onto the table. Seungcheol watches as his friend’s shoulders slump forward in exhaustion, and he takes a sip of water. 

“If you ran into yn again as Spiderman, it’d be sus too. Enemies might look at them as your weakness if it happens too frequently, so hopefully yn getting into trouble was only a two time thing.” Seungcheol adds, and Jihoon glances down at his hands, remembering the harsh reality he has to live as a superhero.

“I hope so, or else the pain of ending our friendship would’ve been for nothing.”

“Cheol, do you know where Uji is? I’ve been trying to reach him for the last week but he hasn’t replied to my text or calls. I even went to his house multiple times but he won’t answer, and when I’d walk up to him during class he’d mutter an excuse and leave.” You explain, fumbling with your hands as you wonder why your best friend hasn’t contacted you. Seungcheol stares at you with a sad look to his eye, before pointing with his chin in the direction of the parking lot. 

“Jihoon just left to go to his car, he should probably still be there.” You nod your head, giving Seungcheol a grateful smile. 

“Thank you, Cheollie. I’ll text you later!” You call out as you run to the parking lot, and the black haired beauty simply watches until you turn the corner, now out of sight. He lets out a small breath, pursing his lips as he tilts his head to the side. Closing his locker, he looks back up in the direction you left in. 

“Woozi, why are you hurting yn like this?” 

You push open the front doors, and let out a hopeful smile when you see Jihoon’s car still in its parking space. You run towards the vehicle, tapping on the glass of the driver’s seat window when you make it. Your best friend turns his head to look at you, and you frown when you see a tired sigh leave his lips. Jihoon rolls down the window, looking up at you from his seat. 

“What?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? You’ve been missing out on our weekend movie nights and my mom’s been asking for you-”

“Yn, we’re about to be seniors and you’re this dependent on me? You expect me to free up my schedule all the time for you?” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at Jihoon, curious as to why he’s being so cold. The black haired beauty sighs again, turning on the engine to his car. 

“I think it’s best for us to not be friends anymore. We’ll probably go to different universities anyways.” Jihoon states, taking one last glance at you before backing out of his parking spot. You clench your fists at your sides, heartbroken and angry at the complete bullshit you just heard. 

“Just like that? Ten years of friendship gone just like that?!” You yell out, and Jihoon glances at you. You suck in a breath at the iciness to his gaze, never having had that look directed towards you before. 

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t care anymore either.”Jihoon simply rolls up his window and drives out of the parking lot after his harsh words, leaving you standing there alone. Harshly biting the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from falling, you walk back towards the school, not sparing the vehicle another glance.

You lean back into your seat at the memory, wondering why your ex-best friend has been on your mind for the last couple weeks. Letting out a quiet sigh, you stare down at your notes for statistics, suddenly feeling a weight of exhaustion lay itself on your shoulders.

“I’ll take a small walk then.” You mumble, standing up from the table you’ve been occupying. Stretching your arms above your head, you begin to take a walk around the university library. Unconsciously, you head towards the manga section, wondering if you could possibly rent a sailor moon manga. 

You walk into an aisle and look around the assortment of manhwas you can choose from, and a bright smile forms on your face when you find the next volume of the sailor moon manga you wanted. You take a step forward and grasp it, only to freeze when you look up and lock eyes with those familiar brown eyes in the aisle in front of you. 

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, before you look away first, grabbing the manga and walking out of the aisle. Clenching your fist at your side, you head back towards your table, now feeling more angry than exhausted.

Jihoon lets out a breath as he watches you sit down at your table, opening up the manhwa and beginning to read. He walks over to a table by the window, sitting down into the comfy seat and opening up his laptop. His eyes slowly trail up towards you again, and he curses to himself, looking down at his assignment. 

“Why’d I even come to the library to study when I have my own apartment?” Jihoon asks himself quietly, but he already knows the answer. He glances up in your direction again, finding you still reading the manga as your foot taps the carpeted floor beneath you. He lets out a soft smile when he catches you giggling quietly, his heart warm just from seeing you.

Jihoon just wants to protect you.

You stir slightly, your vision blurry as you blink your eyes, trying to remember where you are. You gaze around the room, before sucking in a breath when you realize that you’re at the library. The manga you were reading lays open in front of you, and you cringe at the small drool mark left on the table. 

Frowning as you inconspicuously wipe away your drool with a tissue, you recall the feeling of being poked. You glance up from the table, just to squint when you see a familiar figure walking towards the exit of the library. Your eyes widen when you realize who it is, and you quickly shove your stuff into your bag, rushing towards the exit to catch up to him. 

Jihoon steps out of the library, walking down the steps. He let you sleep for around half an hour until he received a text from Seungcheol letting him know of what seems to be a dangerous drug deal occurring near his apartment complex. 

On his way out, Jihoon carefully poked your shoulder until you began to stir, before exiting the library. He only stayed at the library for so long to keep an eye on you, as you have been a magnet for trouble recently. 

“Jihoon!” The black haired beauty’s eyes widen at the call of his name, refusing to turn around and instead continues to walk towards the crime scene he needs to go to. “Lee Jihoon!” He picks up the pace when he hears your footsteps draw nearer, only to stop when your hand grasps his shoulder. 

“I know you heard me.” You breathe out, and he slowly turns to look at you, trying to appear as uninterested as possible as he does so. Jihoon sighs, “Do you need something, yn? I’m busy right now.”

“Why did you stay at the library while I slept? Did you wake me up?” You ask, and your ex-best friend chuckles, shrugging your hand off his shoulder. Your arm awkwardly falls back to your side, and you clench your fist.

“It’s embarrassing to drool on the library table.” Jihoon answers, and you scoff, turning away from him to look up at the sky. The black haired beauty raises an eyebrow at your reaction, “What’s got you so annoyed?” 

“Why would you care about whether or not I was embarrassing myself?” Jihoon stares at you, unable to answer your question. Looking up at the cloudy sky, you let out a bitter laugh, before looking back down towards him. 

“You said you didn’t care about our friendship three years ago. You said you didn’t care about me, but your actions right now are fucking confusing me!” You shout in frustration, raising your hands up to your head as you stare at Jihoon. Tears fill your eyes the longer you look at him, and you bite your bottom lip when one escapes your left eye. Jihoon’s gaze follows the single tear, watching as it trails down your cheek.

“You ended our friendship without any remorse, acting as if ten years never mattered. You left me, Uji. You left me! You can’t just suddenly come back into my life and act like you care when you fucking left.” You hiss, stepping forward and poking his chest with each enunciation. Jihoon just stays quiet, feeling nothing but remorse as he watches the tears fall past your eyes. The pain is obvious in your gaze and your words, but he can’t tell you the truth. 

He can’t risk your life. 

“Fucking pick one. You either care about me or you don’t. If you choose the latter? Then fucking leave me alone, please. The pain is still too much to bear.” You state, before wiping away the tears from your face and turning around and walking away. Jihoon’s eyes follow after you, and he clenches his fist at his side once you turn the corner, now out of sight. 

Letting out a breath, the black haired beauty shakes his head as if it’ll clear his thoughts. He turns back in the direction of the drug deal going on and continues on his way, knowing damn well he’s already far too late. 

He somehow can’t bring himself to care right now, though.

Jihoon swings from building to building, heart still heavy from the conversation the two of you had a few days prior. 

Is it bad for a superhero to despise being one?

Jihoon never asked to be bitten by a radioactive spider and become your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to lose you, one of the people he cares about most in this god forsaken world. 

Jihoon never asked for this. 

“Ah, but my morals won’t let me just not use this power for good.” Jihoon mutters to himself as he swings onto the top of an apartment complex, staring down at the streets as the stars shine brightly above him and the car lights shine from below. 

Removing the mask from his head, he pats down his hair, just looking out for any trouble going on from below him as he does so. He lets out a sigh, letting his legs dangle off the ledge as he stares out across the city, somehow feeling lonely. 

The sound of your voice from afar rings in his ear, and he looks down to find you waving off a guy. Reaching over and putting on his mask, he squints his eyes when the guy tries to grab your shoulder. 

“You’re really attractive, can you just give me your number?” You hold back from rolling your eyes, instead just shaking your head and giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m not interested.” 

“You don’t have to be a bitch. Just give me your fucking number-” You’re about to yell back when a flash of red and blue lands right in front of you, blocking you from the stranger’s advances. The guy’s eyes grow rather large, and you hold back a smirk of amusement as he takes a step back.

“They said they’re not interested. Did your parents teach you nothing about consent?” Spiderman asks coldly, and your eyebrows furrow. 

The man takes another step back, having suddenly lost all of his confidence as he shakes his head. The superhero gestures with his chin, waving the guy off. 

“Leave while I’m asking nicely.” Spiderman states in an icy tone. The creepy man doesn’t need to be told twice, as he practically sprints away, not sparing another glance back as he does so. The red and blue suited figure turns back towards you, tilting his head at the sight of your frown.

“Are you just a magnet for trouble or something? Why do you always-”

“Jihoon?” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, you with wide eyes, and Jihoon with his mouth dropped open behind the mask. Your eyes trail over his physique, the pieces suddenly coming together as you realize Spiderman and Jihoon have the exact same body type. 

Why Spiderman was so stunned to see you at the bank, why his voice was so familiar, why he was so adamant on you being safe, why he’s always there when you’re in a bad situation. 

It’s all because it’s Jihoon.

Your ex-best friend is Spiderman. 

“Who?” Jihoon asks, trying to play off that he wasn’t shocked at all by the fact that you just uncovered his identity. You continue to stare at him in shock, and you raise a hand to your mouth that you didn’t make the connection sooner. 

“You’re fucking Spiderman?!” You whisper-shout, and the superhero runs his hand over the top of his mask. After a moment, Jihoon extends his hand towards you, and you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else, yn.” Spiderman, no, Jihoon says. You stare at his hand for a second, before your eyes trail up towards his mask. Letting out a breath, you reach out and grasp his hand, and he pulls you closer so that your arms have to wrap around his waist. 

“You trust me?” Jihoon asks as he shoots a web towards the top of the building. 

“No, not since you left.” You answer, and your ex-best friend lets out a breath. He turns to glance at you, and you look back at him, aware of the close proximity between you two. 

“Hold on tight, yn. I won’t let you fall.” Jihoon tells you, and you slowly tighten your grip around his waist. His hold on you is strong as well, and before you know it, the two of you are flying up into the air, swinging around. 

“Oh my God!” You shout, holding Jihoon’s body even tighter as you close your eyes to the sight below you. Before you know it, the black haired beauty has landed the two of you on top of a building, but you keep your eyes shut. 

“Yn, you can let go now.” You hear him say, but you refuse to let go, still holding his waist as you keep your face in the crook of his neck. Jihoon’s aware of how fast his heart is beating from the fact that you’re basically hugging him right now, but all he can hope is that you don’t feel it. 

“Yn-” 

“Just. A few more seconds, please.” You plead, voice shaking slightly from the overwhelming emotions you feel as you hug your ex-best friend. Jihoon bites his bottom lip, nodding his head as he keeps one arm wrapped around you. 

After a moment, you pull away and stare at the masked figure. He lets out a breath, knowing how dangerous this is, but he was already caught red handed by you. Slowly, he reaches his hand up and takes his mask off, revealing that familiar face you’ve always known, just with his black hair sitting messily atop his head.

“We need to talk, Jihoon.” You state, and he nods his head, turning to look out towards the city. 

“Let’s talk then.” 

“So you ended our friendship to protect me, not because you suddenly decided to be an ass?” Jihoon purses his lips at the term, knowing that he did act like a bitch. Nodding his head, you turn back to look out towards the city, letting out a sigh.

It’s been almost an hour since you realized that Jihoon is Spiderman, and the two of you are currently sitting on the ledge of the building. He just told you everything that you didn’t know, and it gave you all the answers to the questions you’ve been asking yourself for the last three years. 

That doesn’t mean you’re not pissed off though.

“You could’ve just told me the truth.” You mutter, and the black haired beauty beside you immediately shakes his head, no. “No one knew I was Spiderman until the day I saved you the first time. I had to tell Cheol the truth because he was convinced I was a drug dealer when I collapsed into his apartment with a bullet hole in my thigh-”

“You got shot?!”

“So he was the first person to ever find out the truth after three years of me keeping my identity a secret. You were able to figure it out though.” Jihoon finishes, ignoring the fact that you’re staring at him with a shocked expression on your face, very concerned at the fact that he got shot. The superhero is fine though, it healed nicely.

“You really hurt me, ya know.” You state, turning to glance at Jihoon. He looks away from you, feeling ashamed for what he felt that he had to do. He nods his head, staring out at the lights in the city, watching them shine brightly. 

Jihoon thinks that they could never shine as bright as you, though.

“I know that my apology probably means nothing in comparison to what I destroyed and how much I hurt you, but I’m so fucking sorry, yn.” Jihoon says, the regret very clear in his tone. He doesn’t turn back towards you, but you understand. He’s never been good at being open about his feelings, let alone apologizing. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You mutter, turning away to look out at the city alongside him. The two of you stare at the lights from the cars and buildings, seeing how alive Seoul is at night. 

“I missed you.” Jihoon whispers after a moment of the two of you just sitting in silence, and you hold back a smile from breaking out onto your features as you glance down at the busy street below the two of you. Nodding your head, you let out a sigh, looking up at the stars as your vision soon turns blurry. 

“I missed you too, Uji.” 

Seungcheol practically drags himself to his apartment door after the insistent knocking continues even though he originally ignored it. The blonde wipes his eyes as he opens the door in an attempt to wake himself up more, only for his mouth to drop open.

“Yn and Woozi?!” Seungcheol gapes, and you give him a smile, raising your arm up and waving at your old friend. “Hi Cheollie!” 

Seungcheol nods his head at you, mouth still dropped open as his gaze falls to Jihoon, who is just giving him a sheepish smile. The blonde steps to the side, allowing you and Jihoon to enter his apartment as he closes the front door. 

“Would you like any food, yn?” Seungcheol asks as he slowly walks over to the kitchen, and you nod your head as you look around your surroundings. “That would be great, thanks.” 

Seungcheol grins, before grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and yanking him into the kitchen without another word. You bite back a laugh, choosing to walk over towards Seungcheol’s couch and sitting down, allowing the two to catch up on what just transpired.

“Yn KNOWS?!” You glance over towards the kitchen when you hear Seungcheol’s voice ring out. Finally letting out a giggle when you hear him shout in indignation from what you presume was Jihoon’s slap. 

After a few more minutes pass, the two finally exit the kitchen with a fresh pot of ramen, which Seungcheol places on top of a potholder onto the coffee table. Jihoon hands you a bowl and chopsticks, to which you gratefully accept and begin to eat.

“So. You know.” Seungcheol begins, and you nod your head as you slurp up more noodles. The blonde nods his head back at you, looking away and eating some ramen himself. “Good for you, good for you.” 

The sounds of the three of you slurping up noodles fills the strange silence that has settled itself over Seungcheol’s apartment. You share a glance with Jihoon, who just looks both amused and annoyed, before sneaking a peek at Seungcheol, who still appears to be in a state of shock. 

The latter turns to look at you again, “You and Jihoon are friends again?” 

As you chew the noodles, you take a look at the black haired beauty, only to end up catching his gaze. You tilt your head at him, wondering the same thing, and he just gives you a close-lipped smile. Taking a sip of the soup, he gestures towards you with his hand. 

“I don’t think I have the right to decide that after what I did, not to make that sound like I don’t want us to be friends again. I missed you a lot, but it’s your decision on whether or not you want to be friends.” Jihoon explains, and Seungcheol nods his head in agreement. You poke your tongue into the inside of your cheek, having appreciated Jihoon’s response. 

Leaning onto the back of the couch, you reach your hand up and rub the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. The two look at you expectantly, waiting for your answer as you take a sip of water. 

Giving them both a small smile you say, “Yeah. Jihoon and I are friends.”

Jihoon smiles softly at your answer as he stares down at his ramen while Seungcheol lets out a cheer, beginning to happily catch up with you on everything the two of you haven’t been able to discuss. His eyes trail over to you, seeing the bright smile on your face as you converse with the blonde. While Jihoon is happy that you’re in his life again, deep down, he’s worried for your safety. 

For good reason.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, on the other side of the city, people are talking. 

“I think Spidey knew who they were, that’s why he let us go that day.” The man reports, sliding over the photo of you and Spiderman standing before each other from a few hours prior. The leader clicks his tongue as he easily recognizes you, surprised that you’re still alive even after he shot his gun in your direction.

“So the superhero does have a weakness.” The leader says, amusement written across his features as he stares at the photo of you and Spiderman for a second longer. Placing the picture down onto the table, he looks up towards his underling, giving him a smile.

“Do more research on that person and get back to me when you find out where they frequent.” He orders, softly stroking the photo as he tilts his head. Letting out a chuckle, he leans back into his seat, eyes trailing over towards the window, seeing the lit up Lotte World Tower shining back at him.

“Can’t let Spidey’s weakness just slip out of our fingers, can we?” 

Sitting on a blanket laid over the grass at the university forum, you type out your lab report on your laptop with the soft ost instrumental playing through your earbuds. As you do your assignment, you fail to realize that the sun that was shining on you has been blocked for a few minutes now. It’s only when you look away from your laptop to grab a grape to snack on that you notice the pair of sneakers standing right in front of your blanket.

Your eyes trail up the body until you lock eyes with Jihoon, and you let out a bright smile at the sight of him. Raising your hand up slightly, you wave at the pretty man. 

“How long have you been standing there? Come sit with me.” You say, scooting over on the blanket and grabbing the bag of grapes. Patting the space beside you, you look up at Jihoon expectantly, who grins softly down at you. He places his bag down and slips off his shoes before sitting down next to you on the blanket, taking a glance at your laptop screen.

“Studying?” You shrug your shoulders at the question, typing out the last sentence of your lab report. Shutting your laptop, you turn and send a wink towards the black haired beauty. “Not anymore, I just finished. Now I don’t have any bio homework for the rest of the day.” 

Jihoon turns away when you wink at him, feeling warmth flood his face at how cute you looked. Confusion and discomfort settles over him after a second, wondering why he felt so flustered when you winked at him. It’s nothing new, you always used to wink and act cute whenever you were excited or wanted something from him. 

So why is Jihoon’s heart racing right now? Why has it been racing every time he’s seen you recently? 

Oh my God, am I having a stroke?

“You’re having a stroke?!” You ask, sitting up onto your knees to check over Jihoon’s face. The latter’s mouth drops open slightly, having not realized he said that out loud. He immediately raises his hands up and shakes his head at you, “No! I’m fine, yn. Don’t worry.” 

You let out a breath of relief, plopping back down beside him. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, just appreciating each other’s presence while the sun basks the both of you in warmth. 

It’s been a couple weeks since you realized that Jihoon was Spiderman, and the reason why he ended your guys’ friendship so abruptly. At first, he was too afraid to approach you, as he wasn’t sure what the protocol was now that you guys were friends again. However, the two of you quickly become comfortable, falling into a dynamic similar to what you once had three years ago. 

A similar dynamic, as the two of you have realized one thing incredibly different.

You unconsciously turn your head to take a peek at Jihoon, just to lock gazes with the pretty man. You’re about to look away, only to stop when you see the hint of a smile forming on his face. You tilt your head at him, wondering what he’s thinking as he lets out a breath, turning away from you. 

“Wanna go do something since you don’t have any more homework to do?” Jihoon suggests as he looks around the square, noticing all the couples that surround the two of you. Glancing down at your shut laptop, you nod your head, finding the idea of spending the day with Jihoon to be rather lovely. 

“What would we do though?” You ask as the two of you stand up from the blanket, packing all your things to bring back to your apartment. Jihoon places your laptop into your bag, before zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own backpack. He gives you a grin, “I have an idea in mind.” 

Pursing your lips as the two of you begin to walk off the grass and onto the cobblestone pathway, you find yourself wondering what his plan is. 

“Sounds suspicious. I’m in.”

“I’m concerned at what your thought process was to come to that conclusion, yn.”

“Don’t worry about it, Spidey.” 

The sweet flavor of the ice cream hits your tongue, making you let out a happy sigh as you look up at the night sky. Jihoon turns to glance at you, grinning at how content you look while holding your ice cream cone. 

“Now that idea wasn’t bad, now was it?” You smile at the sentence, nodding your head as you remember the events of the day. 

Jihoon took you both to the movies, where you both thoroughly enjoyed the new Disney movie as you shared a bucket of popcorn. There were a few cliche moments where you would both reach for the popcorn and grab each other's hand, only to jerk away and just not attempt to get a handful of popcorn for a few minutes. 

After the movie ended, you went to go and get dinner where you both just joked around like old times. An argument ensued where the two of you fought over who’s paying the bill, only for Jihoon to sneak the waitress his card while you weren’t looking. This resulted in you almost going back to the waitress to request a refund so that you could pay for the meal (which isn’t how it works at all), only for the two of you to come to a compromise.

Now here you both are at 11 pm, walking along the street towards your apartment complex as you each eat ice cream that you paid for. 

“It was rather fun. It reminded me of our old movie nights.” You respond with a grin, turning to glance at Jihoon. He chuckles at the old memories of the two of you meeting at each other’s houses on Friday evenings to watch movies, and he nods his head in agreement. 

Jihoon opens his mouth to make a joke, only to pause when he realizes you’re no longer beside him. Turning around, he sees you standing a few feet behind him, a look of awe on your face as you look up at the sky, ice cream in your hand long forgotten. His eyes look over in the direction you’re staring in, and he lets out a soft smile when he sees the full moon surrounded by billions of stars.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as your eyes sparkle happily upon the sight of it. 

Jihoon feels his breath get taken away when his gaze trails over to you, the light from the moon shining onto you, giving off an ethereal glow. His heart pounds against his chest, and he feels warmth flood his face when a smile forms on your face. Slowly, he looks back over towards the moon, swallowing the lump in his throat as he answers softly,

“The moon was always beautiful.”

“Jihoon! Stop banging on my door, I’m coming! Jesus Christ-” Seungcheol calls out as he walks over towards his door. The blonde is seriously contemplating just giving his friend a key to his place due to how often he comes over nowadays.

Seungcheol swings the door open, just to find his superhero best friend looking incredibly dazed and confused. He raises an eyebrow when Jihoon just walks inside the apartment without being let in, and he sighs. 

“Can I come in, Cheol? Yeah, of course I’ll let you in Woozi! Thanks for asking so nicely. Of course, you’re my best friend, Cheol! Oh really? You’re my best friend too, Woozi.” Seungcheol bitterly roleplays as he watches the black haired beauty walk over towards his fridge and grabs a can of cola. He tilts his head to the side, wondering what has his friend so distraught as Jihoon mindlessly drinks the battery acid in a can, before crushing it in his hand once he’s finished. 

The two stand in silence for a moment. With Seungcheol staying a few feet away for his own safety as he’s never seen Jihoon act like this, and Jihoon just staring absentmindedly down at the floor with wide eyes. 

“You good, Woozi?” Seungcheol asks after a second, and his friend finally looks up at him, making the blonde squint at the state Jihoon’s in. “Woozi-”

“I like yn.” 

The two stand across each other in another beat of silence. With Seungcheol gauging the incredibly out of the ordinary information that was just bestowed upon him, and Jihoon staring at him with wide eyes. 

Seungcheol gasps, raising his hands to his mouth after the confession suddenly hits him. He raises his hand up and points at Jihoon, and the latter winces slightly at what he knows is about to happen. 

“YOU LIKE YN?!”

“Stop squealing! You’re hurting my ears.” Jihoon grumbles, but the upwards tilt of the corner of his lips shows that he’s anything but angry at his friend. Seungcheol just lets out another squeal in response, and the black haired beauty sighs as he leans back while taking a sip of water.

Jihoon finally admitted the truth that he had been avoiding since the moment the two of you shared underneath the full moon.

He likes you.

Lee Jihoon likes you.

This could either be a very good thing or an incredibly terrible thing depending on what he decides to do. 

“You should confess!” Seungcheol exclaims, causing Jihoon to look at him with a look that says, are you crazy?! without actually saying it. The blonde runs a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to go on but Jihoon simply shakes his head again.

“No.”

“Hear me out, Woozi-”

“Absolutely not. I just got yn back in my life and you want me to quite possibly ruin our relationship a second time? I don’t even have the right to have feelings after what I did to them.” Jihoon snaps, gulping down more water to try and soothe his anger.

“But yn likes you back!” 

All the water is now on the table as Jihoon coughs rather violently from the news Seungcheol just delivered, while the blonde just sighs and walks over to the kitchen to grab paper towels. Jihoon punches his chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm down. 

“Yn what?” Jihoon asks once Seungcheol enters the living room again, wiping the water that the superhero coughed all over the table. He watches as his friend scratches the top of his head, giving him a smile.

“Okay, so yn may not have actually admitted that-” Jihoon stands up from the table and walks over to the front door to leave, only to halt when he hears Seungcheol shout out towards him. 

“But I can see it from the way they look at you!” His hand rests on the doorknob, waiting for Seungcheol to continue so that he can decide whether or not to leave the apartment and pretend this whole interaction never occurred. The blonde quickly throws away the used up paper towels and steps closer towards Jihoon, knowing that he only has a few seconds to explain what he meant.

“What you did to yn was awful, they know that, you know that, we all know that.” Seungcheol begins, and Jihoon purses his lips. “But you apologized and told yn the truth, and you know what? They forgave you. The two of you have been hanging out almost every time you’re not out there saving the city. I wish you could only see that the way you look at them, is also the same way they look at you when you’re not looking.” 

Jihoon stands by the door in silence for a moment, gauging the information that Seungcheol just dropped on him. He looks down at his socks, trying to remember the times he caught you staring at him when he wasn’t looking. Tilting his head, he begins to wonder if the sparkle he saw in your eye is only there when you look at him. 

Jihoon lifts his head up towards the ceiling and lets out a sigh. Seungcheol waits in anticipation, finally grinning in excitement when Jihoon turns to look at him with a furrow to his brows. 

“If you’re wrong, I’m going to stick you to the ceiling.”

“I know.” 

“Okay, good. Now help me figure out how to confess to yn in a cute way.”

You walk through campus, a smile on your face as you look up at the bright blue sky, feeling happy with the weather. You’ve always enjoyed the sunshine, it always automatically uplifts your mood.

Glancing over to the side, you see a familiar blonde head of hair walking while looking down at his phone, making you raise an eyebrow in amusement. Quietly, you sneak over to where he is and rest your hands on his shoulders as a means to make him look up at you. 

“Who the fuck-”

“Seungcheol!” You greet cheerfully when his eyes lock with yours, and you watch as his look of confusion melts into one of joy when he recognizes you. 

“Yn! Were you heading this way?” You shake your head, no, at his question. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you, and you just grin. “I just wanted to say hi before I head over to my next class. Have you seen Jihoon today?” 

Seungcheol bites his tongue to prevent himself from spoiling the whole surprise, and instead gives you a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. He looks off to the side, just to see the man in question heading over in your guys’ direction. 

“No not yet, why?” Seungcheol asks, and you purse your lips, wondering why you asked that question as well. When you open your mouth to respond, you jump up slightly when a hand softly rests on your shoulder, making you turn to see Jihoon smiling at you. 

“Uji! I was just asking about you.” 

“Mmm, talking shit?” 

“Of course.” You respond cheekily, making the black haired beauty roll his eyes as you let out a laugh. Seungcheol and Jihoon share a glance, to which the blonde shoots him a quick nod of his head. Seungcheol raises his arms above his head, and you look over to see him giving you a regretful smile. 

“While I would love to stay and hangout with you guys, I gotta go do my internship. See you two later!” You grin and wave at your friend, to which he waves back. Seungcheol pats Jihoon on the shoulder as he passes by him, and soon the two of you are left alone. 

“Are you busy later?” Jihoon asks you suddenly, and your eyes widen slightly. After a moment of thinking of any possible homework, you shake your head in response. “I haven’t been assigned any homework that’s due anytime soon, so I’ll be free. Why?” 

You squint when you notice the pink tinge on Jihoon’s cheeks, watching as he runs a hand through his black hair. While avoiding your inquisitive gaze, the superhero mutters something that you’re unable to decipher.

“Heh?” Jihoon almost lets out a sigh, feeling too shy to ask a second time, let alone a bit louder. He finally looks back into your eyes, and you feel your heart stutter within your chest at the warmth to his gaze. 

“Meet me at the ice cream shop we went to a couple weeks ago at around six. I have something to tell you.” Jihoon says, and you tilt your head to the side with a teasing smile on your face. You watch as he scowls at your expression, making you let out a giggle.

“What?”

“Why are you edging me?” Jihoon chokes on his saliva from your out of pocket question, causing you to laugh loudly and reassure him that you’re just joking when he doubles over. The black haired beauty looks back at you with a look of disbelief once he’s calmed down, but you smile when you see that all the traces of nervousness have disappeared from his face. 

“I forgot how out of pocket your lingo is, Jesus Christ.” Jihoon mutters, and you shrug your shoulders with a chuckle. Glancing down at your phone, you notice that it’s almost time for your lecture, and you let out a breath. 

“I have to go to class, but I’ll definitely meet you at six tonight!” You reassure, and Jihoon nods his head. Beaming, you walk past him to head to your class, his eyes following after you. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you stop a few feet away, watching as you turn around to face him again. 

The sun shines down on you, casting a pretty glow on your skin as you smile at him from afar. Your eyes sparkle prettily at him as you raise your hand up and wave at him, causing warmth to flood Jihoon’s face as he reaches up and waves back at you shyly.

“See you at six, Uji!” You call out with a wave, before turning back around and heading to your class. Jihoon sighs, feeling his heartbeat go back to normal once you’re out of sight. Running a hand through his hair, he goes back on his way towards his apartment, a soft smile forcing itself out onto his face at the thought of you.

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you walk towards the ice cream shop with a content smile on your face. The night air is warm this evening, adding onto the remains of your happy mood from earlier in the day. 

Tilting your head, you wonder what Jihoon has to tell you that he had to wait until the evening. You pause your movements, suddenly realizing how stupid you are. 

“Yn, he’s literally a superhero. He’s Spiderman! He has other priorities, that’s why he had to wait. Don’t be dumb.” You remind yourself, shaking your head as you continue on your way towards the ice cream shop again. Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you pull it out, seeing that Jihoon’s texted you.

uji: i’m here

want me to order your ice cream ?

You smile down at the message, seeing that he’s a few minutes early. Glancing up, you notice that you’re about a block away from the shop and nod your head. “Might as well order for me already.”

you: awe are you paying for me? <333

uji: sigh

i suppose....

you: AWE<3333

uji: are you almost here? i don’t wanna order your ic if you’re still far

you: i’m about a block away !

btw what did you wanna talk to me about?

uji: you’ll find out when you get here stinky

see you soon

you: booooo okay

see you soon <333

Grinning down at your phone, you place it back into your pocket. You look up to start walking faster towards the ice cream shop in order not to keep Jihoon waiting, only for everything to turn black.

Panicking, you reach up to try and remove the bag that’s over your face, only to let out a garbled scream when an arm gets wrapped around your neck. You’re pulled backwards, and you claw at the arm that’s wrapped around you, about to scream more when you hear the sound of a van door open behind you.

“Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. I’d stay silent if you want to live.” Your blood runs cold at the familiar voice near your ear, making you halt your movements. You’re thrown into the van, and the bag gets yanked off your head once the door closes. 

You’re about to break through the window of the van when the familiar sound of a click resonates next to your ear, and you know that you’re fucked. Slowly, you glance over to your side, just to lock eyes with the leader of the failed bank heist. He lets out an amused smile, nudging your head with the gun.

“So I see that you know Spiderman?”

Jihoon panics as he walks around the block, raising his phone to his ear as he calls you for the upteenth time. 

You were only a block away. You told him that you were only a block away. 

An hour has passed and you’re nowhere to be found. 

“Yn, please. Please pickup the phone.” Jihoon begs as he crosses the street, trying to give himself excuses of what could’ve possibly made you late. He curses to himself when the call goes straight to voicemail, and he lowers the phone so that he can call you again. 

He’s about to press on the call button when his phone rings, and he lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he sees that it’s you calling him. Immediately, he presses the phone to his ear. 

“Yn! Where are yo-”

“Spidey! You’ve been calling yn’s phone so much I almost wanted to break it.” Jihoon’s blood runs cold at the voice, any sense of relief he felt now down the drain as he stares at the sidewalk with wide eyes. 

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done to yn?” Jihoon asks icily, looking around for any suspicious vehicles. The man on the other end lets out a shocked laugh, and the superhero squints his eyes.

“Now, now, Spiderboy. I’m a bit offended that you’ve forgotten me so quickly.” Jihoon’s mouth drops open when he hears the incorrect name, only having heard it from one person so far. He bites his lip harshly, anger running through his veins.

“You’re the guy from the bank. The conman.” Jihoon mutters, looking up and beginning to head towards his apartment so that he can change into his suit. “Ah, so you do remember.” 

“Yeah, thought you were in fucking jail. Guess the police couldn’t do their goddamn job right again.” The black haired beauty says angrily, already blaming himself for having left you alone. 

“True. You know, the police really aren’t all that great at catching us bad-” 

“Cut to the chase. Tell me where you’re holding yn and I’ll go there.” Jihoon cuts off, and the man on the other end lets out an amused chuckle. Tilting his head, the conman turns to glance back at you, smiling when he sees that you’re still passed out. 

“We’re at the top of the Lotte World Tower. Be here by 8:00 or else.” The man says with a smirk, and Jihoon clenches his fist at his side as he begins to sprint. “Got it.”

“See you soon, Spiderboy.”

Jihoon climbs to the top of Lotte World Tower, the only thing on his mind being that he has to get you out of here. He knows that the police and FBI are on their way, having called them while he was swinging over. Looking down at the busy street below him, Jihoon sees the flashing red and blue lights a few blocks over, and he purses his lips.

Jihoon’s about to pull himself onto the rooftop, only to pause when he overhears a conversation, staying where he is.

“Boss, don’t you remember how fast he was able to unarm us? There was double the number of our team at that bank heist than there is here. He’ll be able to-”

“Shut up, Doyoon. Remember your place.” 

Jihoon lets out a breath, before pulling himself onto the top of the building. He locks eyes with the leader of the group, who only smiles cheekily when he lays eyes on the superhero. The conman glances down at his watch, seeing that it’s 7:58 pm.

“You made it with two minutes to spare. Good job, Spidey.” He announces, voice laced with sarcasm. His four men all turn with their guns pointed towards Jihoon, and the superhero lets out a scoff.

“I let you guys go with your money and yet you’re calling me back here? Do you have a fucking deathwish?” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth, and he has half the mind to hold back his chuckle when he notices the worried glance two of the guys share. 

“Ah, ah, ah! Remember Spiderboy, I can push yn off this building at any given moment.” Jihoon’s gaze trails over to find you tied up in a chair close to the edge opposite of him, tears filling your eyes as you stare at him. 

“Yn.” Jihoon breathes out, about to take a step forward, and you shake your head at him. You bite your bottom lip, looking down at your lap to try and hold back your sobs. Jihoon clenches his fist at his side, before turning to look back at the leader.

“What do you want, whatever your fucking name is?” Jihoon asks, and the conman laughs loudly. He paces back and forth in his spot, grinning at the superhero. 

“My name is Kangdae.” He answers, and Jihoon sucks in a deep breath, beginning to run out of patience. 

“Well, that’s one question answered and that was the most useless one of the two. Now tell me what you want from me, I’m impatient.” Jihoon practically commands, eyes flitting over towards you after every beat. The conman, now Kangdae, simply lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he looks up at the night sky.

“I had everything planned for the day of the robbery. My men and I planned it for months, it was fool proof.” Kangdae begins, and Jihoon almost lets out a scoff, but holds himself back as he simply just calculates how to snatch all four guns at the same time. The conman chuckles darkly, “We never expected the supposed superhero of the city to appear, and I never expected for him to kill my brother either.”

Jihoon’s head snaps towards Kangdae, and the leader of the group smirks to himself. He looks down from the sky, locking eyes with the superhero behind his mask, silence passing between them.

Jihoon remembers someone getting shot that day, but he was never the one behind the trigger. 

“I didn’t kill your brot-”

“Bullshit!” Kangdae’s voice booms, staring at Jihoon like a rabid animal. He chuckles darkly, raising up his hand to scratch his head. “You were fighting him when it happened. There’s no other way my brother would’ve died except by your hands.” 

Jihoon just stands there, not knowing what to say as he knows it would arise a reaction from Kangdae either way. The man laughs as he stares at the superhero, before he hears a quiet cry from beside him. Jihoon’s eyes widen when he realizes that Kangdae has remembered that you’re sitting in the chair close to the edge. 

“I tried looking for any type of weakness from you, but there was nothing and no one I could find. Until my men discovered how often you saved yn, that I finally found your weakness.” Kangdae states, slowly looking up at Spiderman with bloodshot eyes. Jihoon glances over at you, seeing your eyes widen when the conman turns to look at you. 

“This will serve as a reminder to never have a weakness in this field.” Kangdae practically mutters, and Jihoon snaps his head to look at the man. The leader turns and grins at Spiderman, before motioning towards his men. “Kill him.” 

Kangdae turns back to face you and grabs your chair, tuning out the sounds of your screams and cries for help as he drags you closer to the ledge. You sob loudly, trying to stop the man from getting any closer as you try to plant your heels into the ground. 

Jihoon’s already moving, having unarmed the four men right away. His heart pounds loudly against his ears as he hears the sound of your screams, fighting the men with his instincts doing everything for him as he just blindly punches and kicks. 

“P-Please. Please don’t do this.” You beg, hiccuping as you let out another scream when you realize that you’re able to look down over the tower. After a moment of just listening to your hiccups, Kangdae tightens his grip on the back of your chair, before bending down and cutting the ties around your wrists and legs. You’re about to ask what he’s doing, feeling a sliver of hope rise in your throat. He grabs your arm tightly and pulls you up so that you’re standing.

All hope goes down the drain when he looks at you with sad eyes, “It’s what I have to do.” The conman mutters. Your eyes widen when he pushes you, and suddenly you’re falling.

“YN!” Jihoon yells when he sees you fall off the edge, finally knocking the last guy unconscious before sprinting over and shooting a web down to your body. You reach out towards it, feeling the web hit your stomach so that you’re no longer falling. Panicking, you look down, seeing how high up you are from the ground, and you hold on tightly to the web.

“Oh God. Oh my fucking God. I’m gonna hurl.” You whisper to yourself, looking up at Jihoon to give him a thumbs up that you’re okay.

Jihoon lets out a breath of relief, quickly tying his end of the web to the ledge. Right as he finishes, he’s shoved onto his side. His eyes widen when a sharp blade comes straight down towards his face, and he dodges it, immediately standing up to fight Kangdae properly. 

“You’re ruining my plan.”

“I didn’t kill your brother.” Jihoon mutters, eyes flickering over to the web to make sure that you’re still okay. Kangdae notices this, and he lets out a grin. “Yeah, and I didn’t kill yn.” 

Within a second, Jihoon is fighting for the knife from Kangdae. Knowing that if he doesn’t get the weapon away from him, then he won’t be able to protect you. Jihoon lets out a hiss of pain when he doesn’t dodge fast enough, the blade slicing a bit of his arm. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” Jihoon mutters as he continues to dodge all of his stab attempts. Kangdae chuckles darkly, staring at the superhero with hatred in his gaze. “You didn’t show my brother that mercy.” 

The two begin to fight again, with Jihoon simply dodging the knife as swiftly as he can with his wounded arm. He kicks Kangdae’s legs out from under him, making the man fall hard onto his back, letting out a wheeze. 

“Stop this, Kangdae.” Jihoon orders, staring down at the man below him. The conman simply chuckles, slowly standing back up as his eyes trail over to the web that’s tied to the edge of the rooftop. Kangdae looks back up towards the superhero, and lets out a smile.

“You’ll never catch yn.” 

Kangdae quickly steps over and slices the web, only for his mouth to drop open in horror when he loses his balance and begins to fall over the ledge himself. The superhero quickly shoots a web towards Kangdae’s foot, keeping him from falling to his death as Jihoon sprints and leaps off the building to catch you.

“YN!” 

“JIHOON!” You sob, reaching out towards him with your hand.

Jihoon positions himself to fall faster, panicking when he sees how he won’t make it to you in time. In a last ditch attempt, he shoots a web towards you, almost letting out a cry of relief when he sees you catch it. Jihoon pulls you up with the slim string, watching as you outstretch your arms towards him once he’s close enough.

Jihoon wraps his arms tightly around your body once you’re within grasp, before turning and reaching out his hand, shooting a web towards the top of the Lotte World Tower. Your bodies jerk when the string attaches itself to the ledge, and he swings the both of you towards the building beside it, the wind blowing against you as Jihoon safely lands the two of you onto the rooftop. 

Once your feet touch the ground, you cling to Jihoon’s body tightly, sobs wracking your body as you refuse to let go, even though you know you’re safe and sound. The superhero holds you just as tight, tears falling from his eyes at how close he was to losing you.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Jihoon mutters, his own body trembling as he reaches his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you continue to cry. You shake your head into the crook of his neck as a way to tell him it’s not his fault, unable to find any words at the moment as you just want to hold him. 

“I caught you.” Jihoon breathes out after a moment, tightening his hold around your waist as you sob loudly into his neck. You nod your head, letting out a wet laugh, hands still shaking as you hug Jihoon tightly. 

“You’ll always catch me, Uji.” You mumble. He closes his eyes, the feeling of relief flooding the both of you as you hold each other underneath the night sky.

“I caught you, yn.”

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part iii

cw: brief, non-graphic mention of injury and medical assistance

~

September

Only blue talk and love

Remember

How we knew love was here to stay

Summer hadn’t truly felt over until Remus saw Regulus standing in the airport, bags checked for New York and backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Well,” Regulus said, shifting a little between his feet. “Here goes.”

Remus laughed. “It’s going to be amazing, Reg.”

“Maybe. Hopefully.”

“It will,” Sirius said. “But if you need anything we’re…what? A four hour drive?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, you can call.”

Regulus huffed out a laugh. “You two sound like worried parents.”

Sirius laughed, too. “I’m just glad we know what those sound like now.”

Regulus’ expression shifted, tightening. He nodded, seemed to hang in hesitation for a moment, and then walked forward two steps and threw his arms around Sirius. Sirius froze, too, with his hands in his pockets, and then wrapped his little brother up tight.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Remus heard Regulus murmur softly. “I don’t really think you left me there. With them.”

Sirius made an indistinguishable sound, and Remus took a step back, giving them space and not sure if he was fighting tears or a smile. He used to just think about how he could kill Sirius and Regulus’ parents if he had the chance, but now, seeing how far the brothers had come, he wasn’t sure they were worth the time at all.

“Come home sometimes, okay?” Sirius said. “D’accord?”

“Ouais,” Regulus said.

They pulled apart slowly, both a little bright-eyed. Sirius laughed wetly, wiping his face.

“And make good friends.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I think that’s supposed to be good choices.”

Sirius reached out for Remus’ hand. “Good friends are good choices.”

“Ah,” Regulus hitched his pack farther up his shoulder. “Of course.”

“Call when you get there, too,” Remus cut in. “My mom would definitely want me to say that.”

Regulus waved them off. “Okay, that’s enough parenting. I’m going now.”

Sirius held Remus’ hand tight as they watched Regulus go through security and then disappear with a wave, sliding his headphones on. He let out a long, unsteady breath.

“Merde.”

“Love ya,” Remus smiled, reaching up to wipe a tear from Sirius’ cheek.

Sirius glanced down at him. “He’s going to be fine.”

“He is,” Remus nodded.

“He forgives me.”

“No,” Remus said. “He told you that you never did anything wrong.”

Sirius let out another tearful laugh, sniffing. “Right. You’re right.”

Remus pushed up on his toes to kiss his cheek. “Wanna get dinner?”

“Ouais. That sounds perfect.”

They wandered the summer soft streets, cooled by the evening and by approaching September. Remus was torn between being ready to let summer go, and never wanting it to end at the same time.

~

It’s good to hear a packed Hogwarts Stadium again, huh, Dean? Even if just for a preseason game against our New York Rangers neighbors.

Right, Lee? I love this post-summer feeling, and I know our Lions do, too. Especially excited to see what our new talent has to offer. This’ll be fan’s first glimpse at Lupin and Reyes, our two…well, I suppose rookie wouldn’t be quite as perfect a word for Lupin as it is for Reyes. We’re used to Lupin’s face around here, huh.

That we are. Not used to seeing what is rumored to be some very quick feet on him, though. As far as testing went, that is.

Right, the bike test. As well as strength. Who knows. This could be building up to a very interesting season.

Remus stared up at the TV mounted on the wall as he peddled slowly on the stationary bike, keeping his legs warm. He felt bizarre, and had been dodging any type of media to avoid having to talk about it. He was dreading post-game. Every time he tried to think of something to say, his mind went blank.

I’m happy to be here.

I never thought I would be here.

The other half of his brain was trying to compute that it wouldn’t just be the preseason, practice scrimmages he was used to. It wouldn’t just been his team, his friends, out there. Not that it would be a full fledged game, either. No one looked to crushing blows during a preseason game. It was about getting warm. Remus was thankful for it. He didn’t know how he was going to feel when he put his jersey on. When he stepped out onto the ice. He had been nervous enough for the fitness testing.

“You’re literally the fastest guy here,” Finn had said after he’d gotten off of the bike—with the highest score. It had made him feel better, but he knew he wouldn’t really be settled until until coach called his name from the line card.

“Loops,” Logan said, swinging onto the bike beside him. “I keep running into you.”

Remus smiled. “Looks like we having similar warm-up routines.”

“Apparemment,” Logan nodded, turning up the resistance. “Nervous?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Logan nodded, but stayed quiet and Remus was thankful. Everyone tried to talk him out of it, Sirius included, and he loved them for that, but at the same time, this was nice, too.

“Me too, sort of,” Logan said, and they traded a smile before looking back up at the Gryffindor pre-game show.

“All right,” Coach Arthur Weasley clapped his hands and gestured to the side of the room where the assistant coaches and staff were standing. The whole locker room was flooded with energy of all kinds—nervous, excited—and it flowed through those not in uniform, too. “We all know Moody. We all know our coaches. Mason, Alexandra, and Dan. We all know our PTs—should I say new PTs—“ there were some laughs. “Lars and Layla.”

“Double-Ls,” Thomas whooped.

Layla gave two thumbs up, and Lars remained stoic, arms crossed. He hadn’t said much since arriving aside from the occasional wise-cracking joke delivered without a trace of a smile.

“Who’s captain serious now, eh?” Thomas leaned in to whisper, and Remus suppressed a smile, glancing at Sirius—who was wearing an almost equally focused expression on his face, completely still where he sat a few stalls down, past Thomas and James. Remus glanced around the locker room, down the crescent-shaped row. Kasey and Leo, on opposite ends, were both geared up. Finn and Leo were sharing AirPods. Remus knew Kasey had worked hard over the summer, rehabbing his thigh, strengthening and increasing flexibility. He knew Leo was happy to be his back-up, but part of him wondered what Leo thought about all the games he had played in the play-offs, only to be placed right back on the bench now. It happened to a lot of guys—some were called up for injury, only to be sent right back down to the farm team when injuries healed. But Remus thought it was different for goalies. He hoped Coach wouldn’t leave Leo sitting on the bench for too long.

“Who’s calling first line?” Coach asked, and held the card out to Sirius. “Cap?”

Remus didn’t realize until the cheers broke out that he could be loud with the rest of them, and gave his stall a few bangs as Sirius rose, hat keeping his hair back. His eyes found Remus’ briefly once had turned towards them with the card, and Remus’ breath caught at his beaming grin.

“Okay, boys, first line,” Sirius said. “We’ve got Pots.”

Clap.

“Tremzy.”

Thomas drum-rolled his stall.

Sirius smiled. “Myself.”

Finn put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

“And on D, Olli and Timmy.”

While the boys burst into chatter again, Remus watched Sirius hand the card back to Coach, and caught his eye again, raising an eyebrow. Sirius held up Thomas’ number, and Jackson’s. Remus nodded to himself. That could be the third or fourth line, and he’d played well with both of them in scrimmages. It made sense. He could work with that.

And it meant he’d get to watch Sirius out there. At least that wouldn’t change.

“All right,” Coach laughed, putting his glasses back on and turning towards the other coaches. “Get dressed, get dressed.”

Remus had sat in his stall quite a few times by now. For his promo-pictures at the beginning of the summer—the first time he had slipped his jersey on, too, right over his suit and tie. But sitting in it now, strapping his pads over his bare chest before a game, a game where he would be up against other NHL players…that was different.

“You’re one of those?” Thomas snorted, flicking Remus’ bare ribs. “Doesn’t the velcro scratch?”

Remus laughed. “Can’t break old habits.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Or is now the perfect time to make new ones.”

“Not after a year like the last,” Remus said.

“Oh,” Thomas whistled, yanking the laces of his skates tight. “You’re that superstitious.”

“I try not to be,” Remus stood. “But playing again…seems to bring it out in me.”

Remus turned to step into his pants, adjusting the pads and his jock until everything fit together comfortably. He eyed his jersey, the number six hanging proudly on a hanger, and he smiled to himself but turned to his skates next. The jersey sent his heart leaping into his throat. He’d save it for last.

“Let’s go boys,” Pascal called, standing by the door to bump fists and pat helmets on their way out.

Remus laced up his skates, pulling them tight over his taped up socks, and then, finally, removed his jersey from its hook. He didn’t waste time staring down at it. That would just make him overthink and, hopefully, he’d have many times to put this jersey on again.

It slid over his shoulder pads, he tucked in the back, and grabbed his helmet.

“I like that Loops is just over there grinning to himself,” Finn snorted as he left for the tunnel.

Remus shrugged, eyes finding Sirius. He already looked like his mind was on the ice, even for such a low stakes game.

“You know,” Remus said as the team started to file down the tunnel. “I used to go last.”

Sirius’ intense eyes lightened into a softer gray. He shifted from one skate to another. “Oh? I don’t know if I knew that.”

Remus tilted his head, smile playing at one corner of his mouth. “Well? What are we gonna do?”

Sirius just stared at him. “I… I go last.”

Remus let out his laughter, leaning up to tap their helmets together. He vaguely heard a camera flash go off, and smiled. He wanted that picture.

“You should have seen your face, baby,” he whispered, and grabbed his stick from the rack before catching up to James.

He heard Sirius splutter out a laugh—and there was definitely some relief in there—and follow.

The sounds of the crowd in Hogwarts stadium only grew louder. Remus could feel Sirius close behind him.

“Ready, mon loup?” he asked quietly, just before the tunnel opened up to the lights.

Remus didn’t know if Sirius heard his yes over the roar of the team’s entry into a sea of red and gold, but then feet were on the ice he was doing a lap, the Rangers at the other end.

On opening night, Remus knew he would be taking this lap alone, along with Cole. A rookie’s first official NHL game. It felt surreal to think about. He couldn’t knock the feeling that he was too old for that—but he knew plenty of guys did it at his age. You didn’t have to be eighteen.

He picked up a puck and headed towards the goal, trying to decide if it would help to block out the noise, or let it overtake him. The boys were dialed in. Remus glanced over at Sirius, feeling strangely bare without him by his side. But he was over by center ice, tracing the Lion printed there—as usual. Remus didn’t want to seem favored. He didn’t want to seem clingy. They weren’t a couple out here, he knew that. They were teammates.

He shot at Kasey, who caught his puck in his glove, and began the wrap-around again before pushing backwards around the outside of the goal, as he always used to. He’d done his routine a few times at the beginning of practices, but it was nothing compared to being surrounded by a crowd—a bigger crowd than he’d ever actually played in front of before.

Kasey tapped a puck at him once he reached his first post, and he laughed, shooting it back until a sign waving at the glass caught his eye. It was held by a kid, maybe around Julian’s age.

I want a signed stick the ReMOST, Lupin!

Remus laughed at the kid’s wide eyes when he saw that he was looking, and gave him a thumbs up the best he could with his gloves on before holding up his stick.

“One second,” he called over the crowd.

When he got to the bench, Sirius was there stretching, holding out an already uncapped sharpie.

And looks like Lupin’s heading over to sign that young man a stick. I bet that’s a good feeling after—oh! Black’s got a pen ready for him.

Remus shoved a glove under his arm and took it. “You saw the sign?”

“I got the kid down to the glass,” Sirius grinned.

“I love you,” Remus said as he scribbled his signature, complete with the jersey number that players always included.

It took two tries to get the stick successfully over the glass, but for the look on the boy’s face, Remus would have tried twenty.

“Feels good, eh?” James said once the horn blew for warmups and they were settled onto the bench.

“Too good,” Remus said.

“First line,” Coach called, slapping his calling card against his palm. “12, 10, 7, let’s go. Olli, Tims, on D.”

Sirius sent him a quick smile, and Remus spun his stick in front of him. “Let’s go, Captain.”

Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes as he pushed away from the boards towards center ice, where Zibanejad was waiting.

Good to see that sort of…what would you call it, Dean, from Black?

Light energy, I think, Lee. Sirius is well known around the league for his intensity.

Right. Nice to see Lupin getting a smile out of him before what is most probably a season that holds more pressure than usual for the Lions, after a Cup year.

One of Black’s coaches once said in an interview that the only thing Sirius feels after scoring a goal is pressure to score another. Ha, sounds about right.

Remus all but held his breath when the ref dropped the puck. Sirius stole it back for James who nicked it over to Logan. Logan sped it into the neutral zone, narrowly avoiding Lafrenière.

“Bulky kid,” Finn said from beside Remus.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Logan?”

“Well—yeah, but nah, Lafrenière,” Finn nodded. “Built like a tree, what is he, nineteen? Crazy. I didn’t look like that when I was nineteen.”

“Well,” Remus said as the whistle blew for an icing on the Rangers. “People are comparing him to Crosby.”

“Kuny,” Coach called. “Lupin, Nado.”

Remus’ initial thought was surprise. The shock of being put out with the second line carried him somewhat numbly over the boards beside Evgeni and Jackson. He didn’t have time to look at Sirius take his place on the bench.

“Hey,” Evgeni said, drawing them in with a glove over his mouth so the Rangers filing out of their bench couldn’t read their lips. “I take Lindgren. Loops, go fast, okay? Nado get you puck.”

“Fox,” Jackson warned.

“Sergei take care,” Evgeni said like it was obvious, and loomed towards the face-off circle.

“Left side,” Remus said to Jackson before they parted. “I’ll try to shake Kravtsov.”

“Nice,” Jackson nodded.

Remus and Kravtsov shared a nod as they lined up shoulder to shoulder on the centerline.

“Welcome to the NHL,” Kravtsov said with a slight smile.

“Thanks,” Remus replied.

Kravtsov was so young. All of these guys were so young.

He couldn’t help feeling like time had been stolen from him.

Have you ever seen this many Russian players in one NHL game, Dean? Pretty nice to see. And here’s Lupin’s first shift. Let’s go.

The puck dropped and Remus gave Kravtsov a shove, spinning out and around him. His heart seemed to press the sound out of his ears until all he could hear was his own breathing. Evgeni won the face off.

“Kuns!” Jackson shouted, and Evgeni passed it to him deep in their own zone. It drew Fox forward, just as Remus knew it was meant to, but Sergei was there for Jackson to derail the puck. Fox was forced to turn around, Kravtsov was made to press forward for a pass, and it left Remus free to shoot into their defense zone. Strome tried to cross him, but Remus spun around him. Sergei and Jackson tried to get it to him, but it left the zone. Remus swore as he pushed hard to touch up the neutral zone.

“6, 58, 86, off, Reyes, O’Hara, LeBlanc, on!”

Remus pulled back to the bench, sending Cole a nod as he hopped over the boards for his first NHL shift. Remus’ shift had been thirty seconds that felt like ten, but he was breathing hard. Finn followed Cole with a tap to his back, promptly stole the puck from Chytil, and slapped it into the corner of the Rangers’ goal.

Remus had barely taken a drink of water when the goal horn blared Gryffindor’s roar filled Hogwarts Stadium.

He punched Sirius’ side, who had his arms raised. Sirius laughed from beside him as they settled onto the bench beside each other.

“Ouch,” Sirius rubbed his padding.

“I don’t know, I got excited,” Remus laughed.

They held his gloves out for Finn to tap as he came down the line, the goal song blaring, the crowd chanting along to the catchy drumbeat.

“Nice solo, Harz,” Remus called, and Finn grinned.

“Thanks, Rookie.”

It remained pretty even through the first and second. Panarin had three good chances, the fourth sailing past Kasey’s glove. Sirius scored a dirty wrap-around just before the second’s buzzer, and Remus didn’t think he’d ever like anything more than getting the full force of Sirius’ smile as he tapped gloves down the bench line. No sooner had the final face-off of the period set up than were Evgeni and Lindgren going at it, hands gripping the back of each other’s jerseys as they dropped their gloves. Gryffindor would start the third one man up.

Remus filed back down the tunnel towards the locker room, smiling at Layla as he dropped his gloves in the bucket she was holding to be dried. He felt warm, his muscles used and a little sore. He longed for an ice bath, but he wanted to use them more too. It was the most familiar feeling in the word. He smiled against it as he sat down in his stall, laughing lightly at the way Evgeni threw a wet towel over his head.

“Not skate enough over the summer,” Evgeni groaned.

Remus looked up when a shadow fell over him and was greeted by two hands on his cheeks and a warm, familiar kiss.

“J’adore,” Sirius said.

Remus laughed, holding his wrists where his pulse still high from the game.

“Nice goal.”

“Good to be back,” James said as he pushed his jersey over his head. “Crowd sounds amazing. How you doing, Reyes?”

Cole looked up from where he was re-taping his socks. “The crowd is amazing.”

Remus felt a slap on the back from Evgeni, towel around his neck now. “Good shift, rookie.”

“Kuns,” Remus sighed, and Evgeni just laughed teasingly.

Remus felt Sirius’ eyes on him throughout the entire intermission. He knew he was curious, and had been for months, about Remus’ game routine. He’d asked and asked over the summer, but that was the thing with Remus’ superstitions—he couldn’t talk about them.

Remus took two fresh sticks from his rack and sat back down. He began wrapping it steadily.

“Of course your tape job is perfect,” Thomas sighed, shaking his head. “Of course, of course.”

Remus laughed, ripping the tape with his teeth.

“Speak for yourself,” Jackson grinned, giving his stick a twirl, the tape warped and hurried.

Remus snorted. “All I see is a fucking candy cane.”

Power play. Lindgren went into the box, slamming the door a little too hard on his way.

“Black,” Coach called as the crowd shuffled into their seats, armed with food, and Remus had been expecting that. “Tremzy, Lupin, Fox, Sunny.”

Remus blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Remus hopped the boards beside Sirius, and the stadium seemed to get louder. Sirius knocked their shoulders together, and Remus didn’t doubt the cameras were on them and he tried to control his expression. He didn’t want to look too pleased, or too dopy at the feeling of skating side by side with Sirius in front of a crowd.

I think this is the moment many of us have been waiting for, Dean.

You bet! I didn’t expect it to come so soon. Coach Weasley is trying out lots of different line combos tonight. What’s pre-season for? I hear Lupin’s played on the power play a few times in practice.

Sirius put his glove up by his mouth, holding his mouth guard.

“Try the double pass?” he said quickly.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Sirius bent down across from Zibanejad and the rest of the Rangers penalty kill unit.

It happened fast. Remus was used to seeing this from the bench—but maybe that was a good thing. He saw the ice as if through a wide lens, Sirius passed to Logan, and then it was on Remus’ stick to carry up. Remus blew out a breath, pushing his legs hard ahead of Panarin. He needed to get ahead, needed to stay parallel with Sirius. He felt Panarin scrape at his heels, but then Sirius was calling his name.

Shesterkin was still up and on his feet, reading to dive whichever way.

“Loup,” Sirius called, and it was as though it was only the two of them in the basement rink. Only the crowd was different, and absolutely roaring. 

Remus snapped the puck to Sirius, who passed it right back. Shesterkin went down when Remus pulled his stick back in a fake, only for him to give it back to Sirius to tap into wide open net.

Remus’ hands shot up, and the crowd screamed. Sirius all but slammed into him, wrapping him up tight against the boards.

“Re,” Sirius laughed through he words, pressing their helmets together. “Mon loup, mon loup—”

Logan crashed into them next, followed by Adam and Henrik. Remus found himself in the center of elated shouts, the fans pounding hands on the glass from the other side.

“Merde, it sounds like the playoffs,” Logan shouted, pressing a hand to Remus’ helmet.

Remus could only laugh, giddy, high on it all.

What a goal! Well, Lee, I don’t think we’re going to have to wait long to see this young man’s first regular season point.

~

“He fell for it,” Remus said for the tenth time as he handed Sirius the last of their dinner dishes. “Shesterkin fell for it.”

Sirius laughed and slid the dishes into the sink and turned, placing slightly damp hands on Remus’ cheeks.

“You are amazing,” he said, accent heavy and laced with a need that Remus had felt stirring in himself since getting off the ice. They’d been on the ice together today. They’d built a goal together, scored. Igor Shesterkin had fallen for their fake-out.

“I was so happy today,” Sirius whispered.

Remus closed his eyes, caught between the feeling of Sirius’ body colliding with his own in celebration, and the feeling of his warm hands here, now.

“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” Remus said softly, and opened his eyes, hands against Sirius’ chest.

What a terrifying, wonderful sentence.

Sirius just leaned in to kiss him, mouth tender and insistent. It was the same fire he had on the ice, leading Remus in a way that made his insides warm and his toes curl. Remus let Sirius guide him slowly up the stairs, and he relished in the way they stopped on the landing, on a half-way stair, just to be closer again, Remus’ mouth on his neck, Sirius’ against his temple. The hallway was dark, lit only by the nightlight they kept plugged in near their feet. It cast Sirius in warm angles as Remus tugged his shirt off and dropped it right there in the hallway.

“I’m not saying I’m not going to miss Regulus,” Remus said as Sirius bent to mouth gently against his neck. “But I’m not saying I’m not going to enjoy being able to undress you wherever I want now that we have the house to ourselves.”

Sirius’ laugh was soft, a little breathless. “Name your room, I’ll be there.”

Remus laughed, too. “Bedroom. Nice, soft bed.”

Sirius walked Remus backwards through the door, hands on his hips. “How do you feel? That was quite the race with Kreider in the second.”

“Good,” Remus nodded, but let Sirius’ strong hands dig into the muscles of his shoulders and back. He sighed into it, resting his cheek against his chest. “But I won’t say no to that.”

Sirius kissed Remus’ temple and worked his shirt over his head. He lay him down on the mattress and Remus closed his eyes at the feeling of Sirius’ lips against his neck, and then his shoulder.

Sirius kissed over the scar that Greyback had torn from Remus’ body all those years ago at their shared college, keeping Remus from a career in the NHL—at least until now.

“I wonder what he thinks,” Remus wondered aloud, and he didn’t have to explain himself for Sirius to know what he meant. Remus wound his fingers into Sirius dark hair as he looked up at him.

“Me too,” Sirius admitted. “And then I see red and have to stop thinking about it.”

Remus half-smiled. “Yeah…I felt bad at lunch those few weeks ago. With Cole. I really think he thought he said something wrong, and I wish I could explain but it’s still…it’s still like this weird secret, you know? Like people could find out if they really looked but no one has? And I don’t really want to bring it up but at the same time I know Fenrir has already spread lies. Saying it was a car crash or…who knows what. Sorry.” Remus pressed a hand to his face. “God, I’m completely killing the mood.”

“Re, hey,” Sirius pushed himself up onto his forearm, falling to the side and keeping their legs tangled.

“And it’s such a good mood, I just was thinking aloud.”

“You’re not. Talk to me. You can talk to me whenever.”

Remus ran his thumb over Sirius’ bottom lip. “Okay…yeah, I know that.”

“This was a big day,” Sirius said. “Huge for you. Of course you would be thinking about him. I used to think about my parents every time I stepped on the ice, even after things were getting better. I think…I think its just time. It takes time.”

“It was strange today,” Remus finally admitted. “I couldn’t…I didn’t know how close to you I could be. Out there, I mean. I’m your boyfriend, you’re mine, but we’re also teammates. There’s so much debate, about my place on the team and if you did something to get me there…I don’t know. I don’t want someone to accuse you of favoritism. You don’t deserve that.”

“We’re both,” Sirius said. “We’ll always be both. You’ll always be the boy I love. You’ll always be my teammate.” Sirius shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if we’re on the ice or not. And I don’t care if someone thinks I favor you. We both know I don’t. Not like that.”

Remus made a soft sound and pulled Sirius further on top of him, making him smile. “Love you.”

Sirius let Remus press slow kisses to his lips. “This mood feels pretty good to me.”

Remus just hushed him, tucking a hand into his waistband.

Sirius kissed him until Remus’ cheeks were hot and his cock was aching, pressed up against his sweatpants. Remus could still hear the Lions’ crowd rushing in his ears. Sirius’ palm cupped him and pushed his sweatpants down. They were both flushed and pink. Remus wanted to see those colors together.

He pulled Sirius’ hips against his own, discarding clothing until it was all bare skin. Remus ran his hands over the hard curves of his back. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, hooking his arms beneath Sirius’, holding onto his shoulders.

Their mouths found each other messily, dragging and half open in gasps.

“Sirius,” Remus breathed, voice higher than usual.

The adrenaline that Remus had thought had faded with the game only seemed to thrum brighter. Remus couldn’t help the smile the crossed his face, brows drawn together at the feeling of Sirius rutting against him.

Remus pressed his ankle gently to the back of Sirius’ knee and rolled them, drawing breathless laughs from both their mouths that he sealed away to keep like a love letter. It was soft mouths and hard hands, clutching each other closer, getting the most out of the warm friction. Remus swallowed Sirius’ gasps. His orgasm built up below his spine and Sirius seemed to read his mind. He reached between them with a hand, brushing a thumb at his base, pressing up. Remus’ hips stuttered and he fell apart, shoving hard against Sirius’ tight fist.

Sirius followed at the hot streak of Remus’ come between them, and they lay there, panting, foreheads together. Remus eased their hips back together, both of them letting out a soft moan, then a laugh, as the spent cocks brushed, drawing out the last tendrils of their orgasms.

“That feels good,” Sirius mumbled, head sunken back against the pillows.

Remus rolled his hips slowly, bringing them down, and then pulled his head up. He pushed Sirius’ sweaty hair back from his cheek and kissed it. 

“Communicate to score,” Sirius mumbled.

Remus laughed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, and dropped his face into his neck to catch his breath.

“It’s true,” Sirius said, running a warm palm up and down Remus’ back. “That article we looked at.”

They’d given in and read some press over dinner, laughing at some of the more excitable writers, and grinning at each other at the more serious ones.

Magnetism, one wrote. Feels like we’ve got some mind-readers on this team, a real Crosby-Malkin, Kane-Toews one-two-punch.

“Well,” Remus said, folding his arms across Sirius’ chest. “What am I thinking now?”

Sirius pressed his lips together, pretending to think. “Is it…how to get out of golf with James and the Cubs before the ring ceremony on Tuesday?”

Remus snorted. “Well, that’s definitely on my list. But nope.” He leaned in, brushing their mouths together. “That’s not it.”

Sirius grinned, and Remus sunk into how thick and sated his accent sounded. “Is it…will my handsome boyfriend please run me a bath and make me tea?”

Remus laughed into their next kiss. “Wow, that writer was right.”

~

It looks…maybe like a twisted knee? What do you think, Dean? Walker is definitely not making a move to get up—oh, there’s the medic. One of the Lions’ new staff members as, of course, someone had to take Lupin’s place. Ah, Walker is pointing to his foot now.

Man, is that a grimace if I ever saw one.

It sure is, Dean.

Here comes O’Hara to help out his teammate.

They were in Madison Square Garden, the Rangers giving them one hell of a re-match. Logan skated a close perimeter towards where Thomas had gone down, just between a line change.

“Shit,” Finn skated to a stop beside him. “It’s fucking pre-season. Did you see what happened?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. Think it was just a bad fall. Strome looks sorry.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re not jumping him right now.”

Logan’s mouth quirked up. “I have no interest in jumping Strome, thanks.” His eyes found Leo on the bench. With his hat flipped backwards, the intensity, the worry in of his blue eyes cut a clear path to Thomas.

“T,” Finn said, skating closer. “Need a hand to the room?”

Thomas winced as he made it to one knee. “Yeah, man, thanks.”

~

Thomas stared up at the dark ceiling from the padded PT table, listening to the game continue on the TV mounted to the corner of the ceiling. There was the X-ray pushed to the corner, his results pinned up on the light screen. Fracture. Minor, but it’d take weeks to heal. He’d miss the beginning of the season. He’d be in a suit when they lifted the Stanley Cup champion banner in the stadium. He missed Noelle.

The light flicked on so suddenly Thomas flinched.

“Walker,” said an unfamiliar voice. It was accented—Swedish, he thought. Thomas squinted at the speaker. He was tall, and dressed in the staff jacket he’d come to associate with Remus. Right. Lars.

“I…hey,” Thomas said. His eyes went to Layla, who gave a wave as she slipped in behind the man. “Hey, man, Lars, right?”

Lars gave a short nod. “Nice to meet you. So, you probably know the drill by now. Couple weeks. Aspirin will be fine for pain management.”

“Right,” Thomas nodded.

“We’ve got a boot for you here, but I’d take everything to a doctor, just for a second opinion. I’ll recommend someone,” he shrugged. “That was an unlucky hit. I’m sorry.”

Thomas blinked. He didn’t know someone could seem sweetly uninterested. He smiled hesitantly. “Thanks.”

Thomas snapped a picture of the boot once he strapped it on and sent it out complete with a frowning emoji.

He had just opened the door to the locker room, accompanied by his new crutches and to meet his victorious team, when his phone began to ring with a Facetime.

“T,” Noelle’s voice gasped. She was beautiful, her hair curling around her face. “Baby, I saw.”

“It’s not too bad,” Thomas said beneath the noise as the locker room filled up. “You look like you’re about to go somewhere, I can call back, I just wanted to…”

I’m just sad about it. It sounded lame in his own ears.

He cleared his throat. “Logan, say hi to your sister.”

Logan poked his head into the frame and stuck his tongue out, then left.

“Lolo!” Noelle shouted for the locker room to hear, and Logan groaned.

“Lolo,” Kasey imitated, grinning, and Logan shoved his mask down over his face.

“How is it?” Finn asked, wrapping an arm around him. “Hi, Noelle.”

“Fractured. Couple weeks.”

“Damn,” Finn sighed. “Sorry, T. That was an—”

“unlucky hit,” Thomas laughed. “Preach.”

“Hey, baby, we’re all heading to grab some food, but call you tonight?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He tried not to feel lonely as the screen went dark. He was in a room surrounded by people. People he loved.

It crept in anyway.

[murderslugs]

Getting To Know Them || Slasher x Reader Bf/Gf Scenarios Pt 2

Jason Voorhees

When you woke, you were lying in a dim living room. The windows were boarded with thick, rotting oak planks and the doors were bolted shut. The only light left to illuminate the room was a small lamp on the old, rustic coffee table in front of you. Beneath you was a somewhat scratchy couch, clearly taken off of someone's front line with a paper labeled "free to take" on it, or from some dump. However, you were thankful that it at least wasn't the creaky wooden floor instead. You scratched at the rope around your wrists, loosened from being wriggled around and messed with.

You sat up and allowed your vision to re-adjust, and saw the same man in flannel and ski-mask in an arm-chair on the other side of the coffee table. He didn't seem to notice your awakening, or he at least didn't acknowledge it. He was reading a book with a maroon cover, and you couldn't make out the small copper-shaded title. You studied his movement. He was calm and showed little emotion in his body language, simply reading in peace.

In a split second, you decided to break the peace and silence. "Who are you?" The man put down the book in his lap, but only looked up at you for a moment, silent. You could see him think, then make a few hand gestures. You came to the realization that it was ASL, but you never really learned the language, despite your interest in it. You saw him take a deep breath and get up, grabbing a pen and a notebook off a table to the side. He slid the items onto the coffee table before you and slowly unbound your wrists. You wrote your question out again, "Who are you?" and slid it around for him to see. He read it, and wrote quickly, in slightly messy handwriting, "Jason. any more questions?" and slid the items back.

From here, you two went on for hours, listing out questions on the notebook and answering them for each other. You filled out pages and pages, ranging from basic questions to things like "what was your childhood like?" Certain things like that, he would pause and then write that he didn't want to talk about it. Through the night or day (due to the lack of natural light, it was hard to tell,) this game went on.

Michael Myers

Though you tried your best and struggled and squirmed, the man who had taken you still had gotten you tied to a chair; where you sat with a belt tying your wrists to the wooden beams, thankfully with a cushion underneath your rear. You shut your eyes for a second and groaned, throwing your head back. You always thought of yourself as strong and independent, a fighter who didn't need help from anyone. Alas, this was one ass you couldn't kick, and you hated yourself for it.

Across the kitchen, the bright lights shined on the tiled floor, and a tea kettle whistled ceaselessly. The sound of running water stopped as the man who had taken you walked from the bathroom and into the kitchen. The man dried his hands on his pants and took the kettle off the burner, shutting the flames off. You observed him take two random mugs from the cabinets above, and place them on the white countertop. He carefully poured the tea into the two cups, and a light herbal smell filled the air. After a moment, you recognized the smell of hibiscus tea. This was a familiar smell, something your aunt made every morning when you spent the night at her house in the summers between school years.

The man walked over and brought the two cups with him. A low, slightly muffled, silky voice came from behind the mask as he slid a mug across the table to you. "Careful, it's scolding." The tall, built man walked across and unbuckled one of your arms from the chair for you to pick up the mug with. "Drink." He said, before taking a seat before you. This is when he slid the mask off, to reveal a face beneath that you never would have expected. Dark brown, shaggy, messy, wavy hair fell over his forehead, and he blew it out of his grey eyes. His face was scarred and his lips were chapped, but it somehow wasn't unappealing or revolting.

"What's your name? Who the fuck are you?" You asked, leaning as far as you could with your restraints still intact. The man pushed his hair back and sighed heavily, sipping the near boiling tea. "Michael. 24. Libra." He said in a monotone voice. You rolled your eyes. "This is an introduction to your victim, not The Dating Game." You told him harshly. "Well, is there something specific you wanna know? It's not like your giving me anything to go off of, sugar cube." 'Michael' replied with the same energy in return. "Fine. I'm (Y/N). What else is there to say?"

Carrie White

Like the pale girl suggested, Carrie if you remembered correctly, you came back to the public library next Sunday, around noon. You had finished the book you had most recently checked out, so you had to return it anyways. Walking down the pavement, you saw here in a light sundress, walking up the few steps and into the library. You ran to catch up and followed her, careful not to startle the girl. As soon as you got inside, you carried yourself to just behind her, and tapped on her shoulder.

The girl turned around, and a look of confusion appeared on her features. "(Y/N). We met here last week? I suggested you check out Narnia." You reminded her, an eager smile painted on your face. A spark formed in her eyes, and she returned your smile. "Oh! Yes, yes, I remember. I'm sorry, my mind is awfully clouded lately." You assured her that it was alright, and you two went along.

The two of you walked down the aisles of bookshelves, and she looked for something new to try out. Maybe she would check out a cook-book and try a new recipe, or read up on WW1. Although, you DID notice that she avoided the religious aisle. However, you didn't comment on this, out of respect. You two checked out a few books, and on the paved outdoor steps, you stopped her. "Would you like to go for coffee or tea? Even a pastry? There's a little shop down the street, I'll buy. I'd just like to talk a bit.

Carrie obliged happily, and the two of you took your books and walked down to the small cafe. It had a dim, rustic theme, and brought peace to anyone who entered it's walls. There was a faint vanilla sent in the air, welcoming you two. For about an hour, Carrie sat down with you and talked about your life, your week, basic things. It was nice to get to know her. She seemed kind, and gentle. Everything about her was graceful, from the way she sipped her latte to the way she tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. As you two finished up your chats, you grabbed your things and greeted each other farewell, agreeing to meet again next week.

Jennifer Check

The pair of you had become half-decent lab partners over the last few weeks, but she didn't seem to be doing well with the subject. As a result, you decided that you would volunteer to tutor her in the subject after school. So, there you were, on your way to her house after school to hang out and help her study up on the subject and with the homework. It was a cloudy day, and you could tell that a storm was brewing in those clouds above your head. Because of this, you decided to walk a bit faster to avoid being soaked.

As you arrived at Jennifer's house, you knocked gently on the door. When you received no answer, you hesitantly knocked harder. Very suddenly, a slightly older woman answered the door, assumingly Jennifer's mom. The woman looked you up and down, then quickly turned to yell over her shoulder, "Jenny! Your new friend is here!" She then quickly invited you in and brought you a small tray of white-chocolate macadamia nut cookies, offering you to take one or two ((If you have an allergy to nuts, then M&M cookies.)) "I made these for you two while you were studying. There's also sodas in the fridge in case you need a drink." Jennifer's mom said joyfully, before scooping the strap of a purse onto her shoulder. "I'll be off now, I have a job interview to get to. Jen's room is upstairs, first door on the right. Have fun you two!" She informed you before heading out the door.

You walked up the stairs until you found an oak door, and knocked before coming in. "Uh, hi, it's (Y/N), I'm here to help you study..?" You said as you slowly walked in and shut the door behind you. Jennifer was standing, looking in the mirror and smearing concealer under her eyes. She sighed and looked over to you. "Sit on the bed. You know, I was gonna gut you like a fish and drink your blood like a Slurpee, but my mom seems to like you, and I don't think you're too bad. Shame, would have been a great opportunity." She said nonchalantly. As she turned to you, you saw that her face was pale and broken out in acne.

Your heart skipped a beat and the color drained from your face. "I'm sorry, w-what...?" You tried to gulp down the fear in your words. "I'm a succubus, idiot. Don't think that I didn't notice you staring at the blood on my shoes the first day we met. I feed on people's bodies and sexual energy so I can feel good and look good. But I've decided you're worth keeping around, so I'll save that for the next chump. So, shall we get to know each other?" She said calmly as she sat down beside you on the bed.

Billy Loomis

You were home alone yet again, but this time it was mid day. You were watching horror movies out of boredom on your couch, when you got a call. You hesitantly answered, to hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone. "I'm here, come let me in." You carried the phone with you. You figured one of your friends had stopped by to say hi, and their voice just sounded messed up due to shitty reception. You went to your front door, and looked through the peephole to see someone in a shitty costume, probably from Walmart, as it was October, and stores were starting to sell Halloween costumes and decorations. You hung up the phone and stuck it in your pocket, opening the door slightly with the chain lock still intact.

"Cut it out, prankster. That's not a very creepy costume. Ooo! I'm so scared!! Listen, I've seen the original Japanese film The Ring a million times, I'm not too scared of much." You heard the person sigh and push the door forward aggressively, breaking the lock. You jumped back in shock. "Hey! You're paying for that, asshole!" You yelled only for a quick response. "No, I don't think I will, beautiful. The man said, taking off his mask. To your shock, it was someone that you went to school with, Billy Loomis. You remember him graduating just the year before you, and were a bit shocked at his sudden appearance. You two had talked a bit, and you could consider yourselves acquaintances, but never really close friends.

Billy took a step forward, and in turn, you took one back. He put his hands up, showing he had no weapons in his hands. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt, that's not what I came to do. I just want to...get to know you. Look, you can pat me down, if you really feel the need. I don't have any weapons on me." You lowered your defenses a bit, but still kept them up. "Why would you want to know me so bad?" You asked hesitantly. "Well, I looked through your window and realized I'd found you again. And I wanted to get to know the pretty (girl/boy/person) I used to look at in the hallways every day." He said in a smooth tone. And that's where your night started.

Thomas Hewitt

It was a lovely Texas summer day. A warm breeze carried through the semi-tall grass in the fields, and the smell of fresh bread filled the small wooden house. On this fine afternoon, you happened to be listening to some old music, from the 50s-60s, and baking. When you least expected it, you heard a loud knock on the door. You figured it might have been one of your new neighbors looking to get to know you, or ask to borrow something. You strolled to the door and opened it, to see a rather large man in a butcher's apron, curly dark hair, and a rather scarred face on the other side. Though he had somewhat of a threatening aura, you knew that there was more behind his appearance.

You saw him open his mouth, but then stop and think for a moment. He hesitantly put his hands up and made a few broken and hand signals. You realized quickly that it was sign language, as you had an uncle growing up that happened to be deaf, so you learned it so that you two could talk. "I'm not deaf, I just don't like to speak." You watched him sign apprehensively, and responded allowed. "That's okay, hun. What can I do for you?" You asked, and he thought for a moment. "Do you have some salt I can use? Papa shot a..." He stopped for a moment, then looked back up to meet your eyes. "Papa shot a deer, and we ran out of salt to dry out the hide and season the meat." He asked, and you replied. "Of course! Come right in, I keep a few bags in the cupboard, I have a half-full one you can take home." You told him as you allowed him to come in and shut the door behind him.

Your bread sat warm in the window-sill, cooling down. As you handed him the salt, he pointed over to it. "Oh, do you want a piece?" He nodded aggressively, and you smiled. You grabbed the metal baking sheet and put it on the counter, slicing a few pieces. "Here, you can have more than one. I make it all the time, and it's just me here to eat it anyways." You told him. "Would you like to sit down and chat for a moment? I can make you tea or coffee too if you like? You can tell me about yourself. That is, if you don't have to be home right quick." The man nodded again, and set the salt down on the counter. "My name's Thomas. I'd like some...Peppermint tea, if you have it." The man signed to you, his guard down as he clearly felt welcomed in the household. "Okay, Thomas, right on it." You smiled warmly and handed him a thick slice of warm bread with butter and mulberry jam smeared over the top. "Take a seat, dear."

____________________________________________

~Author's Note~

Hi guys, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this second part out :( I've just been really stressed and not in a great mental place, plus the factor of writer's block and being scared to burn myself out. But thank you for those who have stayed through the hiatus to continue reading!! Please comment below if you have any character or scenario requests. Goodbye for now, loves!

[glimmerglanger]

If you feel like doing more HotR, could you do a Christmas (or any other family event) scene? I had a thought of Ben having a huge family Christmas for the first time in his life and it made me feel some type of way

Ohhhh, that’s such a cute and sweet idea. I ended up not going for Christmas, because the idea of a Thanksgiving meal occurred to me and wouldn’t let go. This is SO DOMESTIC. Codywan with a lot of family feels.

~~~~~

Ben had tried to cook a meal on Thanksgiving precisely once in his life, while in college and sharing an apartment with Quin. They’d attempted to cook a turkey in their oven, promising to handle the stuffing and potatoes, as well. Luminara and Bant were each supposed to bring other dishes, he could no longer recall exactly what.

None of them had succeeded.

Some of the resulting food had been, at least, edible. Much of it had not.

They’d eaten stale cereal with milk while sitting around and watching a football game, instead.

It was a good memory, in the end. Something they laughed about together. And Ben had never tried to cook anything like that, again. Qui-Gon had never been interested in such things growing up. He said it always ended up being a waste, and that true thankfulness had nothing to do with cooking too much food or overeating.

And so, really, Ben wasn’t expecting anything when he woke up on the last Thursday in November, tucked in close to Cody in the new bed they’d bought a month ago, tired of trying to wedge into Cody’s little twin.

Technically, he mostly noted Thanksgiving because it meant he didn’t have to work and could, allegedly, sleep in. But Cody was always up early. Cattle didn’t take holidays, after all, and Ben was generally up when Cody rose, after sharing a bed with him for a few months, and so he was sitting at the table in the pre-dawn light when Cody put a cup of tea in front of him and said, “Eat a big breakfast this morning, we won’t eat again until late.”

“Hm?” Ben asked, tilting his face up, and got a kiss in answer.

“I’ll be back,” Cody said, brushing a kiss to his forehead, as well, before zipping up his coat and disappearing through the door. “You finish waking up.”

Ben nodded, drank his tea, and pulled out his books to make some headway on his final paper; not due for weeks yet, but it was a huge project. By the time Cody came back, cold clinging to him, he’d gotten most of his work done and grinned, standing to pull Cody into a hug, murmuring, “How about you let me warm you up properly, hm?”

Cody grinned against his mouth, slid his cold hands up under Ben’s shirt, and said, “Later. We’ll warm each other up. Come on, get dressed. We’re about to start the cooking.”

And it was only then that Ben really, truly, recalled that most people around the country did something for the holiday. “Ah,” he said, with a little grimace, thinking about the delicious food that Jango and Val managed to produce on a regular basis, “I really can’t cook.”

Cody snorted, thumbs brushing over his skin, and said, “We know. That’s alright. Anyone can cut up vegetables. Come on.”

Which was how Ben ended up standing in the kitchen in the main house, which had been cleared of all chairs, the counters and table stacked with meat, vegetables, and large metal baskets.

“Here,” Cody said, nudging Ben between Wooley and Echo, “just cut whatever mom tells you to chop. I have to go check the pit.”

“The pit?” Ben asked, but Cody was already heading out the back door. Echo was involved in an animated conversation with Fives, and Wooley was humming along to whatever music playing through his earbuds, and so Ben just shrugged, took the yams he was handed, and started peeling and chopping them.

The parade was playing on repeat in the other room, the television turned so that everyone working around the table could kind of see it, and Ben fell to talking with Boba and Ahsoka - also contributing by chopping vegetables - as Val and Jango did something with what appeared to be a bunch of chicken over by the counters.

It wasn’t until Fox - and Ben had only met the man the night before - brought over a basket lined with aluminum foil and started putting the vegetables in, that Ben thought to ask, “What are we cooking, anyway?”

Fox blinked across at him. Despite having only met in person the previous day, Ben felt like he knew Fox well enough. They’d spoken often throughout his court cases, after all.

“Dinner,” Fox said.

“It’s a hāngi,” Boba said, tossing yams into the basket. “Mom and dad only do them for special occasions. You missed the one in July. Just put the vegetables in, you’ll see, it’s really good.”

And that was that. Ben helped load up the vegetables, and carried one of the baskets out through the back door when instructed, over to what appeared to be a pit, well back from the house.

Cody and Wolf - who had also flown in the night before - were standing over the pit, which was radiating heat, leaning on shovels. A large pile of ash sat to one side, and Cody’s pants were covered with it. Jango and Val reached the pit first, and Ben watched as baskets were lowered in, one after another, meat first followed by the vegetables.

Cody covered the food with blankets before he and Wolf grabbed up their shovels again and started burying the whole thing.

Ben lingered to watch, smiling when Cody finished and stepped over to kiss him sweetly. “Now what?” Ben asked, since he’d just watched them bury dinner.

“Now it cooks for a few hours,” Cody said, nuzzling back against his jaw. Cody no longer felt cold, but he’d been, apparently, standing by a fire pit and doing manual labour. “And then we eat it.”

“No,” Fives said, bounding up and pushing Cody’s shoulders before continuing on, “now we play football.”

Cody rolled his eyes and said, “That, too.” His expression grew more serious as he looked Ben up and down. “You don’t have to play.”

“I think there’ll be an uneven number of players, if I do,” Ben pointed out. It seemed handy, having twelve children if you wanted even teams for sporting events.

“Nah,” Rex said, arriving at a jog, “Ahsoka’s playing, so you have to, otherwise we’re a man down.”

Which was, he supposed, how they all ended up down in the field where Ahsoka still did the dog training classes, though the obstacles had all been cleared away, giving them lots of open space. The brothers agreed, after only a little arguing, that Fox and Wolf should get to be captains, to welcome them home, and the oldest set of twins quickly picked teams.

And Ben only realized that Cody thought he didn’t know how to play when Cody tugged him to one side - they were on the same team, which Boba had thought was hilarious - and said, “Just have fun, alright? We don’t play tackle anymore, and it isn’t a big deal who wins or loses.”

Ben stifled the smile that tried to curl across his lips at Cody - quite possibly one of the most competitive people he’d ever met - claiming that it didn’t matter who won or lost. He just nodded and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And, when he got the ball, two plays into the game, he scrambled back, looked down field, and nailed Crys a few feet away from the line they’d designated the end zone. Crys caught the ball, shouted, laughing, dodged past Ponds, and took the two necessary steps before getting jumped on by half his brothers and buried.

Ben laughed, well back down the field, blood pumping fast with a swell of pleasure, and Cody grabbed him by his shoulders, turning him and pulling him into a kiss. “You!” Cody said, after a beat, pulling away from him. “You can--”

“Throw a football?” Ben suggested, kissing him again, briefly. “Indeed I can. Not as well as I could in highschool, but--”

Cody kissed him again, laughing against his mouth, and only quit when his brothers all gathered around to heckle them, insisting on getting back to the game. They chased one another around the field, grabbing for the rags tucked into belts, tossing the ball around, until Ben felt breathless and delighted, until Jango hollered for them from back towards the house.

Cody took his hand on the way back up the lane and led him around to the back of the house as many of the rest of his brothers flooded inside. Cody, Fox, Wolf, and Rex seemed to be on, well, unburying duty.

Ben watched them work for a moment, turning as Val stepped up to his side, offering him a beer, asking, “Good game?”

“Seemed to be,” Ben said, nodding his thanks and taking a long drink. It was cold, which felt good after all the activity. Despite the chilly temperatures, he was sweating all down his back, even with his coat thrown to one side.

“Good,” she said, and nudged him, “come inside and get cleaned up for dinner. Then you can come back and watch Cody, if you want.”

He snorted a laugh and followed her, scrubbing his hands clean over the kitchen sink, watching Cody through the window over the counter, listening to the family bicker about setting the table behind him and--

Swallowing, thickly, as his throat got tight all at once. He took the opportunity to splash water across his face, drying his skin even as cheers started going up, the brothers outside pulling the first of the baskets from the pit.

Ben shook himself and went to help out, bringing food inside, watching Val and Jango start dividing things up among all the different plates set around. It felt kind of like getting caught in a whirlwind of delicious smells and laughing people, all of it sorting itself out in the end with them clustered around the table, chairs all pressed together, wedged so close that Ben wondered, for a beat, if Cody were about to end up in his lap.

He didn’t, but it was a near thing.

The food smelled delicious, savory aromas filling up the room, chicken and some darker meat on his plate beside sweet potatoes, potatoes, cabbage, and what he thought might be pumpkin. The family talked and yelled and laughed through the meal, and Ben just...absorbed it, sat in the middle of it all and took it in, even as they finished and even as everyone pitched in to clean up.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, much later, when all the work was done and they were back in their space, Ben toweling off his hair after a shower that he’d desperately needed.

“Mm?” Ben asked, tossing the towel into the hamper and shivering when Cody caught his hips, tugging him over to the bed, pressing a kiss low on his stomach.

“Today too much?” Cody asked, looking up at him, expression concerned, his hair still wet as well, curling up more from the moisture.

“No,” Ben said, leaning into his touch and threading his fingers back through Cody’s hair. He smiled, just a little, feeling his chest aching with an overabundance of contentment. “No,” he repeated, and sighed when Cody kissed his stomach again, “It was just enough.”

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E4; Chapter Four, The Body- [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Mike flips through the drawings Will had given him what seems like ages ago. He found himself unable to tear himself away from one of Will's favorites. It was the party. But they were their dungeons and dragons selves. Will the Wise stood proudly amongst his fellow party members. Together they stood triumphantly.

Mike was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of the feedback from the supercomm.

"Can you please stop that?" He asked exasperatedly at El, who sat in her fort fiddling with the device.

El looks to him, before returning to the com, the crackling of the feedback whining throughout the room.

"Are you deaf?" Mike snapped.

El was determined to keep tinkering away.

"I thought we were friends, you know? But friends tell each other the truth. And they definitely don't lie to each other. You made me think Will was okay, that he was still out there, but he wasn't. He wasn't! Maybe you thought you were helping, but you weren't. You hurt me. Do you understand? What you did sucks. Lucas was right about you. All along."

El's eyes bore into Mike's as he yelled at her. However, she sat there, unfazed before turning back to the com. With the final crackle, the distinctive voice of Will Byers rang over the comm and across the room. He was singing.

"So come on and let me know, Should I stay or should I go?"

Mike slowly looked up from the picture and towards El, goosebumps littering his skin. She was looking to him expectantly, blood dripping from her nose.

"Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now?"

Mike jumped off the couch and ran to El, who slowly handed him the walkie. Mike stared at it in disbelief as he listened to the unmistakable voice of his best friend.

"If I go there will be trouble. If I stay it will be double."

Mike gladly took the comm. His finger pressed firmly on the speaker button he practically yelled into the speaker. "Will, is that you? It's Mike! Do you copy? Over."

El stares at the boy, wishing she could help him more. Alas, she knew Will would be unable to hear him. The room was met with the dreaded static of the other line as Mike waited for a response that would never come.

He tried again.

"Will, are you there? Will!"

Mike saw the look on El's face, knowing she had done her best. He dropped his hand to his side.

"Was that...? Was it...?"

El gave Mike a bittersweet smile.

"Will."

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Michael? Hi, honey. How are you feeling?"

Karen poked her head into her son's room.

Mike stuttered as he lay under the blankets, and she crosses the room to sit at his bedside.

"I, uh... I don't think I can go to school today."

"Oh, that's fine, sweetie. I need to drop off Nance, then I'm gonna check in on Barb's parents. Why don't you grab a book or something and come with me? We can stop by the video store on the way back, pick out whatever you want. Even R-rated."

Karen offered, a small smile on her face.

"I think I just want to stay home today. I mean, if that's okay?" He asked, tentatively.

"Well, are you sure you're gonna be all right here by yourself?"

"I think so."

"Okay." She sighed, patting her son on the arm comfortingly."If you need anything, call Dad at work."

Mike softly nodded his head.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Karen leaned forward and kissed her son on the forehead before stepping out.

"Bye." Mike softly called after his mom.

She turned to him as she closed the door, a smile on her face.

"Bye, sweetie."

As soon as his mother closed the door, Mike jumped up from under the covers, fully clothed. He reached for the supercomm on his bedside table and extended the antenna.

"Lucas, do you copy? Lucas, come on, I know you're there! This is urgent. I'm serious."

Mike stood up from his bed, continuing into the walkie. "I'm not gonna stop until you answer. Lucas. Lucas!" He took a deep breath. "Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas... Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas--"

"Go away, Mike." Lucas had sat up in bed, frustrated as he extended the antenna.

"I'm not in the mood, all right? Over and out."

Before Lucas could close the supercomm antenna, Mike's voice had stopped him.

"No, not 'out.' I'm not messing around, okay? This is about Will. Over."

Lucas paused, not letting himself get his hopes up.

"What about Will? You mean about his funeral? Over."

"No, not his funeral. Screw his funeral!" Mike spits.

"What?"

"Just get over here stat. And bring Dustin and Y/n. Over and out."

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

I blink away the tears as I stare at the same wall my eyes haven't left since I woke up. Lucas saw me and Dustin off and made sure we got home. My whole body has been numb since last night. The image of Will laying lifeless on the gurney hasn't left my mind.

I never would have believed it but, I wanted more than anything to be at school rather than staying home today. Mom thinks it was the stress and trauma that made me sick today, but whatever it really is, she insisted I stay home.

I locked myself in my room as soon as I got home, Dustin had filled Mom in on what happened. She had woken me up this morning, apologizing and asking if there was anything she could do to help. But she couldn't do anything. Nobody could. Will, my best friend, is gone.

Apparently, I was burning up because Mom began freaking out when she felt my forehead. I didn't feel any different apart from grief and heartbreak.

"Alright, Pumpkin, I called the school and they know you're staying home. I wish I could stay with you but I can't miss another work day. I'll be back at the regular time, and you know what number to call if you need anything, right?"

I felt her hand rub my shoulder as I never broke eye contact with the wall. Tears were falling freely down my face, through my scalp and into my ears ears pillow. My left arm had become numb from laying on my left side.

"Mm." I couldn't even bring myself to speak.

"Bye, sweetie."

I heard her footsteps recede followed by the closing of my bedroom door.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. But every time my eyes closed I saw it all over again. Will being pulled from the water. I tried to push through it. But my mind began creating scenarios of how he fell in. Countless images of him stumbling over the cliff. Or even the horrific thought of his already lifeless body being tossed into the water by a faceless figure that I only assumed to be his murderer.

Countless, horrendous scenarios playing like a slideshow in my head and the second wave of pain washed over me as it felt as if someone reached into my chest and squeezed my heart into dust, while another hand punched my gut.

I rolled over on my back, I felt the anguish surging through my veins and all the way to my fingertips as a wave of anger erupted from deep within. I heard items fall to the floor somewhere around my room and I figured that in my fit I had slammed my fists too hard against my bed, shaking the room somehow.

I quickly dismissed the odd thought and the second wave of hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

My palms began to sweat as I felt my body temperature rise out of what I could only assume was anger. That must be where my fever had come from but I still didn't understand how that all happened.

I was angry my best friend was taken away from me. I loved him, and he was the closest friend I have ever had. And now he's gone. I still refused to believe it yet my mind was cruel enough to replay the worst moment of my life everytime I close my eyes.

Sniffling, I wiped my eyes and sat up. I couldn't stand being alone with anything else to think about and I looked around my room for anything to take my mind off everything that's been happening.

My eyes scanned the room and then they fell on the all too familiar mix tape Will had lent to me just months ago. A bittersweet smile had made its way onto my face and I got out of bed. I put the tape in the boombox and pressed play.

"Should I stay or should I go?"

I sat listening to Will's favorite song and I felt a different wave of emotion wash over me for once.

I think it was a stubborn hope.

[bluefirewrites]

not sure if u are still taking this but, celebrity/fan au for JUKEE 🤭

Okay this one's a little involved but I got you!

Rated T for mentions of sex and maybe some language

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

******

Julie tugs against the rather short dress Flynn had squeezed her in, not caring for how much she looks like a glorified candy wrapper in the shimmering gold.

She feels like she's some Ferrer Roche, waiting to be devoured.

Which seems to be her intention for tonight because she's insane, and so is her bestie Flynn, because she's supposed to grab the attention of a certain someone in this club.

Her motives for tonight sound like they come straight out of a Wattpad story, but her boyfriend- or well maybe an ex boyfriend now'- forced her hand.

So a year ago, right around the time they started dating, they both disclosed their 'hall passes'. Just a list of celebrities they were both 'allowed' to cheat on their partners with. It was fun. Just to see who the other person would pick. 

It was harmless because the whole point is that these people are so famous, so far out of reach, that the odds of hooking up with them would be essentially impossible.

Nick's was the lead singer of the world famous pop group Dirty Candi. And Julie remembers drunkenly applauding the choice ("She's pretty! Wowww you like them Bubblegum Pop girls?")

They had a laugh that night and Julie doesn't really consider that hall pass conversation all that much since then-

-Until fast forward to last week when Nick disclosed to her that he ran into Carrie Wilson at an event. And then promptly disclosed to her that he invoked his 'Hall Pass' rights.

His rights?! She had exploded at him, and he claims that its no big deal. That he thought she would understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a crazy set of circumstances, and that- 'Holy shit Jules, she was actually into me. Like what?'

Understandably, Julie stormed out and has been staying with Flynn for the time being. And it must have been the haze of crying and watching a lot of true crime series to cheer herself up that she and Flynn concocted this... plan.

One fueled by spite and pettiness.

Get back at Nick, make him jealous, make him feel how she did- by invoking her own 'Hall Pass' rights- 

-which so happens to be Sunset Curve frontman, Luke Patterson... 

"There he is" Flynn whispers from their corner of the club and Julie gulps.

"I don't think I can do this," Julie hisses at Flynn, when they spot him at the bar, nursing a drink with his bandmates like he usually would (they did their research). 

See, Julie’s been a fan of Luke’s for a long time. Ever since she heard ‘Now or Never’ in freshman year of high school, she’s been hooked onto their music- especially Luke and his voice and playing. 

She had their posters on her bedroom wall and had been that girl who would (when no one’s looking) press her fingers to her lips then press them against Luke’s image before going to bed. 

It was that bad. 

And Julie had probably fantasized on more than one occasion of meeting him and all the other scenarios you would picture in a typical Celeb x Reader scenario. 

And she’d like to think she grew out of it, now she’s in her mid-twenties and just casually listens to Sunset Curve, following up on their careers every now and then. 

But you can never really shake your first major celebrity crush. Hence he had been on her so called ‘Hall Pass’ list. 

(”You into rockstars, Jules?” Nick had teased her that night.)

Seeing him there, in the same place as her, is so surreal, but Flynn’s continued pinches to her arm remind her just how real this is. 

“This is ridiculous,” Julie crosses her arms, ready to bow out because what is she thinking? Why would Luke Patterson pick her up, of all people, at the bar? It’s like a supermodel runway in here, filled with girls more accomplished and famous. Her confidence is shaken a bit and she rethinks everything. 

"Nick didn't seem to have a problem when he did it," Flynn points out, “And girl, you look great. He would be blind to not want you.” 

The mention of Nick still boils her blood, which only reaffirms her plans for revenge. She’s still nervous but they both stand up from their booth and walk over to the bar. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,” 

“No. You’re musician extraordinaire, Julie Molina! The world may not have heard about you, but they will one day. I bet that’s something you can talk to him about. Music? Lyrics?” 

Julie could use her songwriting credentials to her advantage, “I mean I guess-” 

“Quick, he’s getting up!” 

“Flynn, wait I’m not-” 

With a forceful push, Flynn sends Julie into the path of Luke Patterson, colliding into him and effectively spilling his drink all over her dress. 

“Oh my god,” Luke gapes at her, “I am so sorry-” 

Julie fans herself, shaking slightly from the fact she’s drenched and also that her freakin’ high school celebrity crush is looking at her, actually talking to her. 

But she recovers quickly, and she speaks, “It’s fine. Really. I guess I’m just... clumsy.” She shoots a glare at Flynn, who merely winks and retreats to their booth. 

Luke grimaces and takes her by the hand, leading her somewhere, napkins in his other hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry. Hate to ruin a pretty... dress.”

It’s the way he eyes her that catches Julie off guard. He’s... not talking about the dress, is he? 

Julie reels it back in tries her hand at a joke, “I wouldn’t call this a dress. I feel like fancy leftovers in this thing.” 

Luke stifles a laugh, “Okay, I mean I wasn’t gonna say anything but yeah. I guess it’s a bit tin foil-y.”

“Not your style?”

His gaze drifts over to her one last time, “Well, any way to take a meal back home is fine by me. I mean-” Luke scrunches his nose, wincing, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. That was too... much. Are we-” he laughs nervously, “Are we still... talking about food?”

“Unless you just called me a meal. Then no.” 

The look in his eyes say that he’s absolutely mortified, “...yeah. I think I did. I was hoping that was a nightmare.” 

“Nope, it definitely happened,” 

“Feel free to slap me,” 

Julie giggles, somewhat delirious because she hasn’t tried to flirt with him but here Luke is, flirting with her. Or trying. And failing. Like a far cry from the suave rockstar she had pictured him to be. 

“No need. Just, can you-?” she points to the napkins he’s holding hostage. 

“Oh yeah. Here,” They stop in front of the coat check, and he hands her the napkins so she could try herself off with the best she can.

Suddenly, a weight falls onto her shoulders, she looks up and sees Luke draping a jacket over her- his presumably. 

“You looked cold,”

Julie wraps the jacket tight against her, relishing in the warmth, “Wow, thanks.”

Luke smiled and stepped back, “Just so you know, if I made you feel weird in any way, I’d like to throw out my third ‘sorry’ of the night. Nothing has to happen though. So, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Whew. Um, okay. Julie stands there, faced with this decision. 

The compliments aside (she will revisit those later), Luke’s giving her an out. Any reservations she has about moving forward with this plan, this is her chance to leave. 

She could just treasure these amazing few minutes for the rest of her life. This could be a story to tell friends at a dinner party, about the time a rockstar lent her his jacket. Would be up there with the time Jack Black passed her on the street and said “Nice hat!”. 

But-

Maybe she wants to see where this goes. 

“All this talk about food is making me hungry though...” she says and Luke lights up, “I could go for a bite to eat.” 

Luke snaps his fingers, “I know just the place.” 

*******

Half an hour later, Julie and Flynn are in a smelly alleyway with the guys from Sunset Curve, in line for a street dog cart just a couple blocks away. 

“An Oldsmobile?” Julie gawked after hearing Luke and the guys describe the delicacy, “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I swear by it,” Luke insists, taking her hand and moving them up in the line. Flynn sees this and doesn’t comment, but Julie’s starting to get used to Luke doing that, “You have to try!”  

Julie doesn't know when she got over her initial starstruck, but by now its so easy to treat Luke like a regular person.

Well, celebrities are all regular people in the end, but more so now that he and his friends, have their sleeves rolled up, smiles wide, ready to dig into what may be the most disgusting hot dog she has ever seen.

Julie takes a bite out of hers and her eyes widen. Wow. It's not terrible.

"Ayy! We got another one, boys" Reggie laughs, noting her reaction.

"Told ya" Luke needles her sides and she giggles, ticklish. Her knee jerk reaction is to playfully shove him, but in the process accidentally smeared some mustard onto his face.

Luke goes to lick it off with his tongue, making funny faces as he did which amused Julie even more.

"Here," she takes a napkin and wipes at his cheek, "Now we're even."

The whole group gets to talking over by the couches, while Flynn chats up the other boys, Julie and Luke are sequestered in their own corner, and yes, eventually the topic switches to music.

"Wait, so you know Rose and the Petal Pushers?" Luke chokes out, "Like everyone I talk to hasn't heard of them!"

"Yup. Have their record actually" Julie beams proudly, censoring out the part that its her mom's band and hence she has one of the few records ever released.

Luke is floored by that and continues to poke her brain for music and Julie finds that their spiels go on naturally, that she could probably talk with Luke for hours and hours.

Which ends up happening. Flynn had already made her escape, having texted her to come home safely, the boys had gone too, leaving them in the nearly empty lot.

When the food truck closes down for the night, they end up taking a stroll down the streets of L.A, talking and getting to know each other.

Julie learns so much about Luke, things she's never heard about from the press- like his songwriting practice, that he cries at Finding Nemo, and that he can do a cartwheel only when drunk.

And in return Julie shares with him her crazy college stories, how she misses her mom sometimes, and that she is encyclopedia of commercial jingles (a fact Luke exploits by rapidly quizzing her at random moments)

Somehow they end up near the beach, with Julie pointing out the different stars she could see, but finds that Luke isn't looking at the sky.

"Hey, Julie..." He gets her attention, "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too"

"So... would it be alright, if I kiss you?"

Julie's mouth parts, speechless. It happened. Holy shit it happened or... is happening. She has Luke exactly where she wants him.

She could only nod and Luke takes it as the sign to lean in, but just as his lips is about to brush against hers, she freaks-

"Wait" she steps back. Luke opens his mouth, "No. No more 'sorry's from you. This one's one me. I'm sorry but... this- this" She sighs, "I have to be honest with you."

Then she tells Luke everything- Nick, The Hall Pass, her plans for tonight- basically admitting to using him.

When she's done, she expects for Luke to get angry, to leave in a huff and never want to see her again.

That's not what happens.

"This Nick guy sounds like a piece of work" he says.

Julie nods slowly, "Yeah... I guess he was. So maybe that's why I did it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. Like I don't think we're together, me and Nick but-"

"You wouldn't want to do what he did. Because you don't want to hurt people," Luke surmises, understanding, "And by doing that, that means you're a better person than he is."

"I guess"

"No Julie, you're a good person" Luke insists, "Man, I think that makes me like you even more."

Julie laughs, "God, if my high school self could see me now..."

"You were a big fan?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now with you,"

"Okay cuz now you got me curious-"

Julie swats his shoulder but it doesn't deter the guy from snickering.

On a more serious note though-

"I think..." Julie hums, "I think this means that I got some stuff to work through. Before I could start considering... this."

"I understand"

"But thank you... Luke. For tonight"

"It's been real, Julie,"Luke smiles and pulls her in for a half hug, "And you should keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

****

Julie goes back to Flynn's that night and her bestie's still awake, wanting all the deets. But there's not much to tell. Nothing happened.

She shrugs off the jacket and resigns to the couch, not caring that her makeup is still on. She's about ready to pass out.

Her phone dings.

She pulls it out and sees two notifications.

luke_patterson is now following you

luke_patterson is requesting to message you.

Curious, she accepts the request.

'here if you want to talk, Tin Foil :P'

Julie rolls her eyes and collapses onto the couch, sleeping with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know it now, but the oncoming years would be filled with more messages back and forth, meetups with their friends for more shady street food, building a solid foundation of friendship and eventually, when Luke asks again if he could kiss her, Julie would eagerly prop herself on her toes to close the gap.

Yeah, Julie's high school self would definitely be screaming...

[anystalker707]

Spicy horror

Pairing: Frank x [fem] Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Smut / Fluff Summary: It's Halloween, and (y/n) and Frank finally confess their crushes to each other when binge watching horror movies on Frank's place. Kind of content: Praising / Protected / Oral

Requested by @thisisjustforrequestingfanfics (can't tag you, sorry hhh my T*mblr is acting weird)

a/n - I'm sorry that I coudn't proofread, I might do it soon; I was supposed to be asleep rn

"You're just annoying, old man," I tease with a grin. "But don't whine or else you'll ruin the makeup!" I continue spreading the white concealer over his face, careful to get it on the corners around his nose and around his eye, though not to irritate his eyes.

"No, fuck you," Frank groans, his face twitching to suppress any expression. "Why can't we watch it again tonight? They're the best movies! And stop calling me old man, it's just my birthday! I'm not decomposing or anything!" Despite his words, he smiles, opening his eyes once I pull away, leaning back against the chair of the desk – I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I agree." I grab the eyeshadow palette from the desk and move closer to him again. "TCM is a great series and all, but can we not watch it for a single week? It's your birthday and we can watch literally any horror movie! And it can be special, like, not something we've watched a thousand times already to the point we already know most of the lines." I glare before motioning for him to close his eyes.

Frank sighs grumpily, leaning his head back. "What are you planning on, then? Alien? Jaws?" He lets out a weird cry when I slap the side of his head lightly, though he is soon chuckling.

"And then you complain when I say how annoying you are!" I spread the dark eyeshadow over his eyes, humming. "It's been a while since we've watched The Howling, Evil Dead, House of Wax. I mean, 'm not gonna complain if we decide on Alien and Jaws either." He hums, pouting. "Don't worry, you're still my favorite old man." I press a kiss to his head.

"I hate you," he laughs.

After a little bit of fake blood and retouching on my makeup, the two of us are leaving Frank's house to go to school, waving his mother goodbye. We don't look like what most of the kids will go dressed up as – not putting enough effort nor choosing the same themes as the jocks and popular people and not invisible enough just to throw on whatever in a black theme. Frank looks like a chill vampire with Bela Lugosi's Dracula references, though still looking like a punk, while I decided on one of my favorite characters. Nothing too extra, but still in the vibe.

"You look ridiculous with that hair slicked back." I kick one of the pebbles on the sidewalk. "I prefer the hedgehog or whatever it is in the normal state."

"I honestly feel like I could kill someone just from biting their jugular off." He grins, throwing his nose in the air – I can't help but to chuckle; he's adorable. "But not gonna be anyone from school, they're not worth it neither their blood would taste good." He twists his mouth. "I feel like most I'd get would be booze, botox and steroids."

"Damn," I snort, "awfully accurate. You're gonna starve, sorry."

Frank pouts, looking down, but a smirk soon tugs on his lips as he takes a step closer. "But you're not that bad, baby, you know?"

"Oh, fuck off!" I roll my eyes, clicking my tongue. "You just want to get in my jugular!"

Both of us burst out in chuckles and our conversation eventually dies down when we walk past the gates to inside the school, replaced by jokes at other people's costumes, sometimes needing to hold onto each other from laughter.

We walk into the first class, already a bit late, but all it does is to attract everyone's attention the moment we step in.

"Ridiculous, as always," some girl mutters under her breath. Funny.

Frank wraps a hand around the length of the coat to stupidly bring it to cover the lower part of his face, looking around with narrowed eyes then wide ones. "I smell not just a lot of blood here," he says in a low and raspy voice, "but also stupidity!" He points at the girl judgingly, making her twist her mouth disgusted.

"I hope Freddy Krueger visits you tonight," I say when walking past her, patting her shoulder. A scream comes from her when noticing the fake blood stain I leave behind on her white outfit, having Frank and I chuckling on our way to the back.

No one really pays attention to the classes – it's Halloween, we're even in stupid clothes and anxious for whatever is going to happen later in the day, so the teacher doesn't even bother scolding Frank and I for talking nonstop in the back of the classroom. To be honest, I think only the goody two shoes are actually doing something, sometimes turning around to glare at the others.

"Okay, okay, shut up for a minute!" I tell Frank, taking a look at the messy words over my notebook to check if I forgot to write something down. "We've got The Howling, Alien, Evil Dead, House of Wax, Dawn of the Dead, Funhouse, Pumpkinhead..."

"Fright Night," Frank continues, "Opera, Cannibal Holocaust, Texas Chainsaw–"

"I said no TCM! Fuck you," I curse, rushing to write everything down, crossing out TCM when I accidentaly write it down.

"Friday the 13th, Poltergeist, Near Dark and Elm Street," he finishes, glaring at me. He hits my shoulder, not enough to hurt. "I'll make you watch TCM with me until you have memorized every single frame of it!"

"Your TCM phase will have died down by then!" I twist my mouth bitterly. "Sorry to kill the hype, baby!" I throw my nose in the air with a chuckle at his sulky manners. He furrows his eyebrows, sucking in a breath for words he never really gets to say. "And we still got to watch all these goth movies and shows lying around! Do you think it was easy finding the 60s Addams family show on DVD? Or that one Frankenstein version on cassette." Okay, the last one was easy to find in a yard sale, but still, it was just luck.

"Okay, mommy, please just don't punish me," Frank says with a groan and a fake moan. I stare at him as he's not able to contain his laughter before starting to hit him with the notebook.

"Too bad you're not a good boy, hun."

For once, school ends up actually being nice and just because Frank and I were getting in the character sometimes and pissing people off. By lunch, he had pulled on some sunglasses and looked like the stupidest fucker while eating his sandwich and smudging more of the lipstick and fake blood around his lips. At some point, we had pretended to have a fight and pierce the other's chest with a pair of scissors just to squeeze a bag of fake blood at whoever walked by – mostly some of the jocks or plastics. So much fun.

The house is quiet when we arrive back at it, a couple hours after school ended, and we find out, later, a note from Frank's mom apologizing she can't be here during the rest of his birthday, though she's sure he'll have fun with me.

"Imma take a shower," I sigh, pointing upstairs.

"Sure," he hums, looking up from the note for a moment to smile at me.

Thankfully, I always leave some clothes at Frank's place because I'm here far too often and not always have the chance or disposition to go back home and grab some clothes. It doesn't prevent me from stealing his hoodie, however, and walking out of the bathroom without all of that sticky makeup or fake blood is the best thing ever. Later, Frank is the one to go take a shower while I take care of the food he had already started to prepare.

"Much better!" I raise my eyebrows at the sight of Frank with his hair back to normal and only a bit of black makeup smudges the underside of his eyes now.

"Y'know, I never said a single thing about how you looked," he mutters with his brow low, coming to lean against the counter, next to me, "still, you've been attacking me every chance you got!"

"Does it offend you?" I smile.

"No, but it still hurts!" He sniffles, a hand flat against his chest. "I know I'm too badass for you to handle, but you don't need to let it be that clear!"

I look at him from head to foot. "I hate you, y'know that?"

"Love you too, hun!" He grins and moves closer, cupping my face exaggeratedly to peck my cheek before we head upstairs with everything we need.

We turn the lights on to organize everything, soon sitting down against a pile of pillows and with food surrounding us, though most of it is on the bedside tables since Frank, mainly, gets extremely uncomfortable with it falling on the bed. It doesn't matter, though, since the food and half empty cans end up going forgotten halfway through the movie at the same time the chatter dies down and we watch The Evil Dead as if it was the first time.

Some funny part comes on – well, not exactly funny, but enough to make us chuckle quietly – and brings us back to reality, sighing and glancing at each other, adjusting our postures as we'd slid down the pillows.

Frank yawns.

"Already tired?" I tease, poking his shoulder.

"No." He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Getting tired is for losers." He does glance at the clock on his bedside table, however, and the red glowing numbers say it's six something.

"You're my favorite loser, then." I smirk lightly, exhaling.

Frank's eyebrows knit together as he looks at me, but then rolls his eyes. "Well, duh, of course I am! Who else? I'm the best." He scoots closer until his head is leaning on my shoulder and I can't help but to smile.

"No, I am," I groan, arms wrapped around him.

"I am!" He glares and, at some point, we end up in a wrestling match, pushing each other around the mattress among laughter and curses, which comes to a stop when we start getting too tired and I just let Frank lie down on top of me, head on my chest, still watching the movie. "Do you like anyone, (y/n)?" he asks suddenly. "Like, got a crush?"

Random. Why does he want to know? I mean, I do have a crush, but telling him about it is difficult.

"Um, yeah, I guess, why?" I blink, startled when he suddenly brings himself up on his elbows to stare at me.

"I swear to God I'll hunt them down if you forget about me because of them, do you understand?" Frank presses his forehead to mine. "You're the only one I got, sometimes I'm so worried you'll even leave me for whatever reason."

"What?" I breathe a chuckle, though there's not exactly anything funny here. "Never in my right mind would I do that! And you can't hunt my crush down if my crush is actually you," I laugh in a sudden rush of confidence, which wears out awfully quickly, leaving me lying there and rethinking every life choice.

"Me?" Frank widens his eyes. At the lack of answer, he takes a hold of my collar, straddling my hips. "Did I hear it right? Please, (y/n), (n/n), soulmate? I'm your goddamn crush? For how long?"

I shake my head lightly, shrugging. "Months? A long time."

"And you just told me now?" He cries, forehead pressed to my shoulder. "Slow motherfucker."

"I didn't want you to leave me either, c'mon!" I sigh in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "I remember that time a girl confessed to you and you'd simply vanish whenever she showed up. What if that was with me? I'd not be able to live like this, y'know that."

"Y'know, yeah, seeing it from that point..." Frank shrugs, bringing himself up to face me again. "Still, I wouldn't avoid you like that! Dunno, but it doesn't matter now because you just relieved me of months of suffering. Looking at these pretty lips without being able to kiss it." He furrows his eyebrows, eyes on my lips. "Can I kiss you, tho? Now that we feel stupid for all these months. Damn. At least I feel."

I breathe a chuckle. "Of course! Do you think I wasn't dying to do it either?"

Next thing I know are Frank's lips pressed against mine softly, soon growing firm with confidence. His fingers run along my neck lightly, in a caring manner, dropping to trace my collarbones.

"Also," Frank breathes, pulling away; his face never moves farther than a couple of inches whilst he adjusts his position, lying down beside me on the mattress. "Maybe it's wrong to say and I've always tried to say it in a subtle manner, but–" his eyes meet mine, "–you've got the body of a goddess! Like, dunno, sometimes you comment about not having an 'ideal', skinny body, but you're just so perfect," he groans, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"Frank!" I tap on his back lightly. It's not that I don't like what he said – no, damn, it sends my heart fluttering, this warmth taking over my chest –, but is it really the truth? I didn't think it was possible for anyone to tell me this.

"No, I'm telling the truth!" Frank grins. "Like, your thighs and all. I just want to squeeze and bite you! Not in a bad way, I mean." I must give him a funny look because of how flustered he grows, tongue playing with his lip ring as he looks away. "There's a lot to unpack, fuck, I thought it was obvious how I always sit there gazing at you and shit, but..."

"Likewise." I glare playfully, making him chuckle.

"Y'know–" Frank smiles lazily, "–this is the best birthday I've ever had, by far." He brushes his lips against mine softly, watching me through half lidded eyes. "Never knew you'd actually like me back. Never believed it was possible, to be honest."

"I never cogitated you like me," I breathe.

"Well, okay," he says, "we've already gotten through this. I think we should focus on now."

"I'm not the one who keeps bringing back past thoughts!" I chuckle at how he pouts, scowling funnily.

"Shut up, shut up, I get it!" Frank rolls his eyes and presses his lips to mine before I can say anything, having me smiling against the kiss until returning it, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Now that we've finally kissed, keeping our lips off each others' feels almost impossible – letting go of each other feels almost impossible. "God fucking damnit," he groans under his breathe, moving to press kisses down my jaw, soon reaching my neck.

A sigh escapes my lips at the kisses, though it turns into quiet pleased sounds at the feeling of his teeth pulling at my skin and sometimes closing around it, sucking on it whilst all I can bring myself to do is tugging onto his hair. Suddenly, however, feeling his hands traveling down to my hips and squeezing them makes me gasp, probably reacting a bit more than I intended.

"What?" Frank pulls away at the same moment, eyes wide. "Did I do something wrong? Please– Damn, I'm so sorry!"

"N-No, no," I finally bring myself into speaking up, feeling my cheeks burn bright red. "I, um, I actually... liked it. A lot. Sorry if I scared you, I just wasn't expecting it. I don't mind, really," I insist as he continues looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

"You sure?"

"Yeah!" I smile, bringing him for a quick kiss before he's trailing down my neck again.

Frank's hands go down my body, experimentally at first and then squeezing my hips again, receiving another reaction this time, including just a soft gasp as I push my hips up – a shiver runs down my spine with it, a nice one. Fuck.

"Damn..." Frank breathes, hands running down to my thighs then up again to slide under my shirt. "It's a bit early, maybe–" he shrugs, looking at me, "–but... is it okay if..."

Holy hell. "Of course," I say without thinking much – he continues to stare, so I nod.

"Fuck yeah," he mutters, lips against mine for a few seconds before he's pulling my shirt over my head and the expression on his face carries such admiration that I can't help but to feel embarrassed for a moment. He never lets me cover myself, nonetheless, hands flying to my waist to hold firmly onto it as he's pressing kisses from my stomach to my hip. "No, seriously–" he sits up again, "–how can someone be so perfect?" He seems to be talking mostly to himself, getting rid of his shirt.

"Dunno." I grin. "How does it feel to be so perfect, baby?"

Frank exhales shakily. "You'll be the death of me and I ain't even joking." He presses a kiss to my collarbone, starting to nibble down at the skin again, trailing down to my chest, lips sometimes lingering over my breasts – sure as hell he leaves a few marks behind, considering how invested he gets.

Something tells me he doesn't know what to focus on. His hands never stay in the same place for too long, going down my thighs then trailing up to my waistband, up my torso, and then he repeats it.

"C'mon," I mutter, placing his hands on my waistband. He's a bit hesitant, but quickly undoes the buttons and starts pulling it down – I help him, kicking the pants away in the end.

A string of curses slip past Frank's lips as he quickly gets rid of his jeans too and, when coming back, he kneels down between my legs this time, spreading them apart. Our lips are yet again locked in a kiss, different from the others, more heated up and urgent this time as we hold onto each other. I play with the hair on the back of his neck and tug onto it instead at the feeling of his hands around my ass, groping.

"Frank, damn," I breathe quietly for a second we pull apart and, opposite to earlier, he gets the hint and does it again, humming against my lips. Once he stops groping, his hands just run along my skin, up and down my body, sometimes lingering. The most lovesick look decorates his face when he pulls away. My heart.

I place my hands on Frank's shoulders as I sit up, changing our positions. He observes me with wide eyes and I smile at him before pressing kisses to his neck, leaving behind a hickey before I can go lower and lower until my fingers are around the waistband of his boxers and I pause, looking up at him, and continue after he nods.

Frank's already half hard, a breath hitching in his throat as, after discarding his boxers, I assume my previous position.

Even if it's not the first time I've done that, this nervousness still lies under my skin as I wrap a hand around him, pumping him lightly before wrapping my lips around the head experimentally. He breathes sharply.

Only halfway through it that I allow myself to look up at Frank, pausing for a moment after finding out he's been watching, propped up on his elbows, eyes focused on me and jaw slack, but I don't look away, hollowing my cheeks instead and watching him break under my gaze, letting go of all the tension for a second.

I repeat the motions a few times and pull away, licking up along the underside, around the tip, and he's suddenly pulling me away – eyes wide and face flushed this time.

Frank mumbles something I can't quite understand, but it doesn't really matter. He moves closer, both of us soon assuming the position we were in minutes ago, pressed against each other. Now, he removes my underwear and his hand slips between us, however.

Pleasure is sent ringing up my spine at the feeling of Frank's fingers slipping past my lips, quickly finding my clit and wasting no time on working his thumb on it while a couple of fingers tease my entrance. Moans just escape my throat easily after he breaks the kiss, mouthing his way until the inside of one of my thighs – he bites and sucks on the skin there. His tongue is suddenly there, then, against my clit, working around it before being replaced by his lips and my vision goes fucking blank when I can feel him sucking on it.

"Fuck," Frank curses once pulling away, moving to frantically rummage through the nightstand's drawer; I groan at the loss of touch, pushing my hips up into nothing.

Hearing the sound of foil being torn makes me understand what's happening, and I watch him rush to slip the condom on, giving us a moment to catch our breath before he's positioning himself, a hand on my hip whilst another holds himself up.

"Tell me if there's something wrong, okay?" he asks slowly, "I'll stop right away. Don't be afraid."

"Same to you," I say softly, cupping his face to pull him for a soft, quick kiss.

Frank smiles with a nod and looks down before I can feel him against my entrance, pushing in slowly. I wrap my arms around his shoulders tightly, feeling his chest vibrate against mine with the low moan coming from him, replaced by a sigh once he sinks in completely. He starts moving right away, hips jerking experimentally before attaining a heavy and slow pace which doesn't last long due to how needy we are already.

I gasp at how he thrusts in harder, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to hold him close and having my legs around his hips, instinctively.

Curses and praises are breathed into my ear among moans, somehow making the pleasure pool down in my lower stomach even more intensely, summed up to feeling his hands groping on my ass again, fingers sinking into the skin.

"You're just so perfect, (y/n)," he babbles, "and even better that now you're all mine."

Suppressing a louder moan turns out to be impossible at the feeling of Frank's hips reaching a certain angle and, soon, the answer I had in my slips away from my grasp and all there's left is just how good he feels. I travel a hand up to his hair, remembering how he reacted to it earlier, and tug on it in a form of response, though also wanting to hear how pathetically he moans at it.

"'M gonna cum," I manage to say before being cut off by a moan, arching my back.

"Me too, babe," he groans, "almost there."

Frank pauses, adjusting himself so a hand is under my thigh and another on the mattress for major support and his thrusts are suddenly harsher. I throw my head back at the same time, holding onto him tightly, and it doesn't take long for all the pleasure that had been building up so far to unravel at once – it apparently triggers the same on him, considering how tight his grasp gets whilst a higher pitched moan comes from him.

Coming down from the high, I feel almost numb, in a good way. Frank pulls away and I'm only aware of him when he's lying down next to me, both of us breathing heavily and unable to do anything aside from staring at the ceiling for a long moment.

"Damn, I love you so much, so much," he mumbles again.

I breathe a chuckle, feeling him cuddling up to me, arms wrapped around me. "And I love you, dumbass." I press a kiss to his head.

"My girlfriend now, right?" he asks. "Nevermind, you don't get to choose." He chuckles, though it quickly dies down. "Just kidding, okay? Tell me to and I'll fuck off."

I laugh, still breathless. "Of course I am. I didn't confess for nothing."

[mochegato]

The Road to Asphodel is Paved in Pink

Meet Cute Monday for @boldlyanxious  Hope this makes you smile!

Pink boxes, pink bags, pink dolls, pink instruments, pink goo, pink Legos, pink cars, pink, pink, pink. Everything in the aisle was pink. A hundred different shades of it filled the shelves of the aisle.  Everywhere he looked was pink.  They even put down a pink covering on the floor just to complete the look.  Honestly, it was starting to hurt his eyes.  “Who knew there were so many shades of pink,” Jason grumbled rubbing his eyes.  

He heard a chuckle from down the aisle.  “Trust me it’s worse when it’s an aisle of the same shade of pink.  Like some kind of never-ending fuchsia tunnel to Asphodel.” She shuddered slightly.  “And I like pink.”

“I take it you have experience with this?”  He vaguely motioned around the aisle.

She bobbed her head to the side and hummed noncommittally.  “My friend’s twins will be six this year.  I get them things from time to time just because, so I end up here sometimes.  I’m looking for their birthday this time.  I was thinking of instruments they could play with their moms or their grandpa, but just realized they probably have so many instruments already, so now I’m looking for inspiration.  But the only inspiration I’m getting is pink. Annoying really.  Because apparently that’s the only color girls respond to.”

“I think it’s damaging my retinas,” he chuckled looking back at the shelves of pink.

She chuckled and nodded in agreement before returning her attention to the shelves around her. Jason looked back over at her as she searched the shelves.  He really should be focusing on Lian’s gift.  Her party started soon so he didn’t have time to waste flirting with random women in the toy aisle, but his eyes kept wandering back to her.  It could be because they wanted a break from the sea of pink attempting to sear his eyes, but more likely it was because she was stunning and looking at her made him feel lighter.  

After a few minutes she quirked her head to the side and grabbed a box.  She puckered her lips as she looked toward it, her eyes unfocused and her brow furrowed as though planning.  Jason watched her face run through a few expressions as she thought through whatever she was planning, each expression cuter than the last one. Finally she gave a quick nod and dropped the box into her shopping basket.

“Finally figured it out huh?” he smiled at her.

“Yeah.  They like playing with hair so I’m going to get this hair glitter and chalk set and some of the Hello Kitty brushes I saw by the entrance and make a bunch of barrettes and headbands.”  She grinned proudly at him.  “And not one of the damn things will be pink in retaliation against all of this.”  She motioned around them.

He barked out a laugh and nodded appreciatively.  “Damn. That’s a really good idea.  But Lian isn’t quite there yet.”

She smiled and moved so she was standing closer to him, close enough now that he could run his fingers along her jaw if he wanted.  Well, not if he wanted because he did want, rather if he thought it would be received well.  His fingers twitched to try until he finally had to clench them into fists to stop them.  “Okay, well… what does she like?  I mean, if you want some help.  I know you didn’t ask…”

“No!  No, please.  Please help me.”  He gave her a charming smile before reminding himself what her question was.  He sighed and pulled out his phone to check his texts. “I don’t know…  He said she likes ‘girl things’.”

“Girl things…” she repeated slowly with an unamused raised eyebrow.  “Like saws and computer programs and syringes?  Or things girls didn’t invent just enjoy?”

Jason stared at her for a few seconds before chuckling and looking back at the toys with a sheepish smile. “I don’t think that’s what the idiot meant.”

“So I take it this isn’t your daughter?”

“No.  My best friend’s daughter.”

“Okay, well, your best friend is no help at all.  No offense.” She gave him a smirk that suggested she didn’t really care if she did offend. He smiled back at her and nodded in agreement with her assessment.  “What do you know about her?” she continued.  “How old will she be?”

“She’s turning four,” he started slowly, trying to order all his memories into a useful resource.  “She’s smart.  She likes engines and coloring and painting.  She LOVES cats.  Her favorite color is red.”

Marinette nodded.  “She sounds very smart and artistic.”

“Yeah.  She is constantly painting pictures for me.  My first thought was a book, a children’s classic she could keep for a while, but she recognizes letters but can’t read yet. So that’s out,” he grumbled.

“I don’t know, it sounds like you have two perfect gifts there.” He looked at her questioningly.  “More paint so she can paint more pictures for you,” her voice became increasingly excited as she thought through the gift. “There are art kits a few aisles over or there’s an art store a few doors down.  Or a book, just because she can’t read it doesn’t mean you can’t read it to her, and I bet she’ll think that’s even better.  Or you could do both.  I’m sure there are tons of kids’ books about painting or colors that you could get along with some paint.”

He nodded as he thought about what book to get her and what art supplies.  “That’s…” his words trailed off as he looked back up at her. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement and the only thing he could think was “…perfect.”

She cocked her head to the side and watched him curiously.  “Hmm?”

He shook his head quickly. “Your idea, it’s perfect.  Thank you for helping me.  I’m Jason by the way.”  He held his hand out to shake hers.

She shook his hand with a brilliant smile.  “Hi Jason. It’s nice to meet you.  I’m Marinette.”

“Which would you recommend for the art supplies?” He asked, hoping to draw out the conversation.

She puckered her lips as she thought about it.  “Depends on what she has already and how seriously she takes her art.  There’s plenty here for a four year old.  But, if she knows the difference between shades and gets upset she can’t get the exact color she wants, like I did at that age, you might want a more complete set than is available here.  Or if the brushes aren’t doing what she wants, there will be more options at the art store.”

He grinned at the thought of a four year old version of Marinette stomping her feet in frustration because she couldn’t get the right shade of pink on her painting.  “Sounds like you were really into art.”

Marinette laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I was very… particular.” She shrugged and brushed her bangs behind her ear.  “Still am.”

“So you’re an artist,” he prompted her.

She gave him a relieved smile, grateful for a change in topic.  “A designer, yeah.  You?”

“A… uh… bodyguard.  So you know, if your body needs guarding, let me know.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Marinette laughed and shook her head as she looked down.  “I’ve got it covered but thanks for the offer.”

He pouted slightly. That was one of his better lines.  Clearly a different approach would be necessary, one less superficial and more honest, one more conducive to starting an actual relationship, which he didn’t mind in the least.  “What do you design?”

“Clothing.”  She smiled brightly up at him.

He shot her a crooked smile and leaned closer to her.  “Ah… so you’ve been silently judging my outfit for the last five minutes or so.”

“Longer than that,” she smirked at him.

He perked up and shot a smug smile at her.  “Sounds like you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she consoled him wryly.  “Your outfit isn’t that bad.”

He pursed his lips for a moment before bursting out into laughter.  “Can I talk you into helping me pick out some paint supplies and a book? Maybe I can repay you somehow?”

“Yeah, I can do that. No repayment necessary.  I want to make sure Lian, was it?” She looked to him uncertainly.  He nodded at her.  She nodded with a smile.  “I wouldn’t want Lian to end up with something in terrible taste.”

“Hey!  I have great taste.”  He objected with a mock offended scoff.

She looked him up and down playfully.  “Yeah, sure you do.”

He laughed again, his laughter echoing off the pink around them.  He took a step closer to her.  “Did you want to come with me to the party, too?  You’re helping pick out the gift after all.  It’s only fair you get to join in the spoils.”

She smiled shyly, but didn’t back away.  “No thank you.  It sounds like a really special event for your friend.  I don’t want to intrude on that.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m sure my friend would welcome another adult there to help corral the chaos, but I understand not wanting to go.”  He moved a step closer again, his eyes becoming softer.  “But, since you’re going to miss out on the cake and food, how about I take you out to dinner instead to thank you for your help?  I really would have been lost if you hadn’t helped.”

She smiled brilliantly up at him.  “I’d like that.”

[moonbaby26]

Title: Sleepover

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. After getting Peter back to his house in D.C., he asks you to spend the night. You want to, but you’re also worried about what his mother and his twin sister Wanda may really think of you. As you and Peter get a little more time alone, you also wonder how far you’re ready to go yourself.

Warnings: Nothing more than kissing really in this chapter. Bit of awkwardness from Reader though not knowing what they really want or how to go about it yet.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen , @ikkleroniekins , @cowboyenorgy , @the-chaotic-cow

My Masterlist

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“Anyway, can we argue inside at least? (Y/N) promised to call Xavier when we got here.” Peter piped up, trying to shuffle away from his mother at last.

At the sudden sound of your name though, you felt an added bit of nervousness. You also made eye contact with Peter’s mother for the very first time then, as if she’d only just realized you were there.

Peter’s sister Wanda was also looking back at you with question in her face as well at the reveal of your name. But you said nothing yet, just walking up to hand Peter his crutches.

You purposefully busied yourself turning right back around too, getting that jacket he’d stolen on the plane out from the back of the car as well for him. The sunglasses he already had still on top of his head.

So then, the only other things left in the car were the meager amount of clothes you’d bought for yourself. Which you didn’t need right now as you walked back to the others, carrying his jacket. But really pretty unsure yourself if you were even going to be invited inside for long at all.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the phone is,” Peter spoke again though, either oblivious to the increasing awkwardness for everyone else or just ignoring it entirely as he motioned for you to follow him back up the steps and through the still open front door.

—————————

As you were unfolding the little piece of paper with the motel address and phone number from out of your pocket, you tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The corded phone was propped against your shoulder to rest against your ear, you now standing there in the Maximoffs’ small kitchen. But even as you started to dial the numbers, half your attention was still on whatever Peter was now rapidly saying to his family.

“Yeah, (Y/N) goes to that school. You know I just went there to go ask about Dad since they know him. But then there’s this explosion, and I had to pull everybody out. And all the sudden this mutant god is apparently attacking the world and he took Xavier. But then the government shows up like dolts thinking Xavier’s doing it instead. And they take us to question us, but they’ve got some evil experiment shit going on in there too-”

He only took the smallest breath, continuing at that accelerated pace. “And they had that other guy, remember him, Mom? Logan? Anyway, so he breaks out and wrecks the place, so we get out and I get (Y/N), then we find out where Xavier is so we go to get him. We’re in Egypt and we all fight and that god dude breaks my leg. But he’s trying to make Dad help him, but Dad turns on him and-”

“Hello?” You heard someone on the other end of the line finally answer at the motel. You could still hear Peter rattling on excitedly behind you though, your name peppered into his story several more times as you just answered back on the phone.

“Hi, is there a Charles Xavier checked in there? I need to ring his room please.”

There was a long pause where you could only keep standing there, just looking at the kitchen wall and the bit of older panelling that covered it before the phone finally started ringing again.

Peter was now already talking about the aircraft carrier and your stay there by the time you heard the receiver pick up again.

“This is Charles.”

“Hi…hey, it’s me.” You answered with some relief.

You could hear the quick recognition in the Professor’s own voice as you didn’t have to say your name before he gladly responded. “Ah, good. You made it with no trouble then? We checked in here a while ago. I’m in room 104 if you’d need to call back. Are you leaving now to drive back?”

You tried to commit the room number to memory even as you were already replying. “Yeah, it wasn’t a bad drive. We just got here a minute ago. I-”

“Yo, Prof.!” Peter interjected, surprisingly at your side abruptly, also speaking into the phone then. “We’re barely in the door. I was going to show (Y/N) around a bit. That cool? Pretty jet lagged anyway. Probably be safer to crash on the couch tonight and have (Y/N) head your way in the morning, right?”

You blinked, for one thing not even having heard Peter stop talking to his family. But two, he was really saying you should sleep here? Not just joking around anymore? Could he even decide that on his own?

You felt frozen in that moment, not wanting to look back towards the kitchen at all and whatever surprised expressions his mother and sister may now also have on their faces.

The pause on the other end of the line was very noticeable as well before Xavier eventually continued. Peter shimmied even closer to you so he could also put his ear almost against the phone as you turned it slightly for him.

“Peter, I appreciate you looking out for everyone’s best interests and safety,” The Professor answered then, but with that tone which said he clearly doubted that was the speedster’s true or only reasoning. “But I would think that’d be more for your mother to-”

“Mom!” Peter turned his head back, rather loud in your ear as you flinched a little. “Can (Y/N) sleep on the couch? I mean you hate it when Wanda drives late by herself. Same thing right? It’s a long drive back to New York. What self respecting mom is just going to throw anybody’s kid out into the night like that, huh?”

You were tired, yes. It’d already been a very long day of traveling. But you weren’t that helpless. You were pretty sure you’d be fine. This was so weird though. Standing here in silence while someone else bargained for you. Was he really just trying to extend your time together however he could?

“I don’t care, Peter.” You just heard a rather exasperated answer though from Magda after another moment. “You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Why even ask me anymore?”

The tension from their argument in the driveway clearly remained, or maybe this was how it always was between them? You couldn’t know yet, just caught in the middle it seemed as Peter only took that as good enough, talking back into the phone quickly, “Mom says it’s cool.”

You heard a sigh on the other end, and Xavier replied, “You’re old enough, I don’t have much say myself. But do call me again when you are leaving so we know when you’re back on the road, agreed?”

“Yes.” You said, pulling the phone more back to you then. “I’ll definitely let you know. Please tell the others I’m okay. I’ll see you all soon.”

After that, you and the Professor both told each other goodnight, and that was it. You hung the phone back up, but not yet sure what you’d really gotten yourself into as you glanced back at Peter. Peter who was now outright grinning from ear to ear.

“So…Chuck Norris or Bruce Lee? Movie night?” He asked you.

But what else could you do? You didn’t mind getting the chance at a little more time together of course. You just weren’t sure about how much anyone else actually wanted you here in this house tonight.

——————————

Not long after, whatever deeper discussions still loomed in the air about Peter’s choices of chasing his estranged father straight into a near death experience with a genocidal mutant god appeared shelved. At least for now anyway.

You’d seen Magda grab some sort of drink. Resigning herself to an armchair and the living room television as she seemed to ignore you all then, even as Peter remained almost bubbly while the two of you started down the basement stairs to his room.

You really hadn’t seen where Wanda had gone, but Peter just kept talking. So your focus only returned to him as you both cleared the last step at the bottom of the staircase. You behind him as you carried his crutches, then handing them back to him as you entered the room.

“And voila, man cave de Pietro!” He announced, waving an arm out towards the space.

You weren’t sure why you’d expected something smaller either. Of course most basements sprawled out to take up near the whole bottom footprint of a house. But this was still large to you, and clearly well used.

There were things everywhere. More than just a room obviously. No, this was his life, his hideaway. The more you looked, the more things you saw. Bicycles, guitars, comic books, band posters, all pieces of his hobbies and likes scattered about.

But there was furniture as well. A little table, some chairs, was this always where he ate too? There was a big sectional couch, the cushions indented a little like he may have a favorite spot there.

You didn’t miss the expensive looking television as well, and the VHS player. All the tapes, and the nintendo and the atari, the record player, a stereo, and boxes of games, cassettes, and music records.

And his bed was near in the center of it all, much wider than one person should need and almost right on the ground as he just fell back onto it sending a noticeable wave across the sheets. A waterbed clearly. But you just laughed a little, still a bit amazed. “You really do live here in the true sense of the word don’t you?”

“Hey, I make do. Home sweet home.” He smirked, but also raised an eyebrow at you not long after. “So you didn’t even notice the table back there did you?”

At his words you did look back over your shoulder with a little confusion. But you started to smile as soon as you realized what he was talking about. An air hockey table back around the corner. Some clutter on top of it like it hadn’t been used in a while, but it was clear he remembered your arcade favorites to point it out like he was.

“I figured I’d try to keep that a surprise until now…you know, since our arcade date might be a little postponed for the moment. So uh, surprise?” He said, laying back on his bed as he put his arms behind his head, still watching you.

“I did see the Ms. Pac-Man.” You replied, motioning to the more obvious machine right against the wall. No wonder he’d said he was pretty good at that one.

“Yeah, I used to have Pong too. Wore it out though. And got tired of trying to find parts to fix it.”

“Oh, I could see that happening.” Sure, he probably played everything with a little super speed. Though imagining him somehow ‘shoplifting’ a whole arcade machine whenever he needed another one was a bit interesting. How did that even work?

“So, uh…you want me to put a movie on for real? I was trying to get us out of that kitchen before Mom went off again. But we can do whatever. You know…whatever you want?” He spoke, albeit maybe a little oddly as you glanced to him again.

He almost sounded a touch nervous with those last words? The slight change in tone was enough for you to catch anyway as you did walk over to the bed regardless before sitting down on the edge of it beside him.

But it was strange here, the more you considered everything. It was hard to explain really. Because how many countless times had you sat in your friends’ rooms at the mansion? Guys or girls, just talking or playing games or whatever. Just hanging out as you supposed most all people your age did. But there was never anything weird, never anything uncomfortable.

It could even be late at night sometimes, some of you only half dressed in your sleep shirts or pajamas and no one thought anything about it. Because you just knew back then that no one thought of you as anything but a friend too.

But with Peter…being here now, you were suddenly acutely aware that you were sitting on his bed. In his room, as he seemed to be waiting for some sort of guidance from you as well. Was that why he sounded nervous?

Yet had Crystal ever been here too you wondered. Sitting just where you were sitting now? And why would you think of such a stupid thing in this very moment?

“Hey.” Peter said gently, causing you to look down as you felt his fingers graze your wrist after he moved his arm to reach out.

You smiled a little at the contact, but still felt kind of foolish. There was no point in trying to play it cool though as you confessed the current reason for your own awkwardness at least. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be in anybody’s room like this. It’s not bad, it’s just…”

“Different?” He asked, helping you out a little to your surprise.

“Yeah.” You answered simply. But you could see as another emotion seemed to pass briefly through his expression, furthering your bit of confusion.

Was that guilt on his face?

And he spoke a little abruptly, with that rarer more serious tone emerging even though the words came fairly quick. “You know I was still just giving you a hard time right? I’m cool going as slow as we need. Despite being the fastest dude alive and all, I don’t have to be the fastest guy in bed. That’d royally suck actually. For both of us. So don’t feel like there are some sort of rules here. Like, you do not have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You blinked, those words not what you were expecting. But it wasn’t bad at all the more you got to consider them. Was he really so worried that you may think he was trying to get something from you here that you weren’t yet ready to give?

Honestly, you didn’t even know yourself what you were ready for though. “Really, it’s okay.” You replied truthfully. “I’m not uncomfortable. I think I’m still in disbelief is all. I never would have thought this is how my summer would start this year. Never in a million years.”

He sat up, smiling again then with his normal tone bouncing back fairly easily. “And I am totally coming over for a pool party, as soon as this damned cast is off. I mean I’m white as shit so people may have to avert their eyes. But we would totally wreck the others in some volleyball or something. I know we would. As long as Jean doesn’t cheat with the telekinesis crap. I could do some whirlpools too you know, knock ‘em off their feet.”

“Sounds safe.” You said, laughing at the image. Maybe living in some random motel for the foreseeable future wouldn’t be so bad after all?

He chuckled in return, but was cut off by another voice just before he started to speak again.

“Knock knock.”

You both looked up toward the stairs as you first saw a pair of black boots coming down them. Black boots, old jeans, and a dark red t-shirt.

Peter called back, straightening up a little more at the sight. “Hey, sis. Fun run out upstairs with Mom and Dynasty on the tube or what?”

“Well, it was an Alexis and Dominique Deveraux battle episode, actually.” Wanda answered a little regretfully.

“Aw, your favorite catfight duo! Why the exit then?” Peter questioned in return.

She gave Peter a slight accusatory look. “Well, you got Mom in a mood and she wanted to talk about my school next. She wanted to and I didn’t. Simple as that.”

“Well…actually I thought you’d still be at your dorm too really. Not that I’m complaining. Haven’t seen you in forever. Your classes get cancelled?” He asked.

“Well, when the metal roof got pulled off the main assembly hall, I think they decided to err on the side of caution.” She responded, rather deadpan.

“Understandable. You think you’ll still go back in the fall?” Peter questioned anyway.

“Don’t know. I haven’t really liked anything about that college yet. But I said I didn’t want to talk about it remember?” Her tone wasn’t cold to him, but still rather final.

He clearly wasn’t as intimidated by her as you were though as he didn’t miss a beat. “Well how about a movie with us? Me and (Y/N) were about to pick something.”

How true that statement was on Peter’s part, you weren’t really sure. But you still said nothing as Wanda just moved to sit on the other edge of the bed, almost as far from you as could be you noted. But Peter still between the both of you as she looked unimpressed. “Can it be something a little less bloody than your usual at least?”

He scoffed, teasing back. “Well I don’t keep your Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie box sets down here you know.”

“Oh shut up.” Wanda retorted, but it was the first time you’d seen her really smirk. Though the siblings were clearly very different, that expression was also a brief resemblance you couldn’t miss.

“Wanda’s a bit of a sitcom connoisseur.” Peter commented for your benefit.

You took the chance to make eye contact with her at that, thinking that might be your in to finally start a real conversation. But she only looked away. If Wanda was unfriendly with strangers period, or actually just disliked you specifically, it was hard to know yet.

“Just pick something.” She finally replied to Peter though. “If I go back through the living room to try to go to my room right now, Mom’s just going to try and start an interrogation again.”

—————————

Hours later

“Hey, you keep moving around. Do you want a pillow?” Peter’s voice drifted from above.

You were pretty disoriented, for one strange moment just staring up at him and clueless to where you even were before your senses returned a little.

The sunlight was gone then. The only real light flickering from the television nearby that was now on some movie you didn’t remember the name of as you sat back up a little on his bed. Was this the third movie he’d put in? You hadn’t lasted very long at all had you?

“I can get on the couch,” You offered, awake enough then to at least remember his mother and sister were still around here somewhere. Though, when had Wanda left? You didn’t see her anymore and you didn’t even know what time it was.

“Seems kind of unnecessary,” Peter replied, in a quieter tone that caught your attention as you paused.

Was he inferring that you should just get under the blankets right here? With him? But sharing the bunk on the aircraft carrier wasn’t the same as being in his literal bed. Here in his family’s home where they already seemed to be rather distant with you at best.

They didn’t know you here. You had to remind yourself of that. They couldn’t know you didn’t spend the night at boys’ houses as habit. You didn’t get in their beds with them upon just meeting. Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d slept somewhere besides the now destroyed mansion.

“Peter…” You didn’t know how to convey that concern really. You did want Magda and Wanda to like you eventually if you were being honest. You wanted them to understand. But you wanted Peter to understand too. Even though he’d said he was fine taking things as slow as you wanted, you felt it would still be all too easy to make him feel rejected without meaning to if you weren’t careful.

“I mean, we could both fit on my couch down here too,” He added, so close then that you were sure he was waiting for you to cross the rest of the small distance and kiss him.

And how could staring at each other in the dark, with the muffled sounds of some badly dubbed kung fu movie in the background now be bordering on romantic for you? Somewhere in the back of your mind you did think of all those stereotypical movie scenes all of the sudden. Two young people just in their own world, oblivious to all else.

“I don’t know if I’ve made the best impression on your family yet.” You tried to explain. “If I’m still in this bed with you the next time one of them comes down here…there is no way they’re going to believe we only watched movies and slept tonight.”

He tilted his head a little, yet already smiling. “And you assume they think someone like you would be that physically attracted to someone that looks and acts like me?”

“I do…and I am.” You answered though. Not trying to lead him on, but unable to help yourself either then as you did close that small distance to kiss him. You still disliked anytime he made those comments about somehow being underserving. He was far from it.

The little bit of tension you felt in return told you he was surprised too, but that quickly faded of course as he only pressed into it to kiss you back.

You had no intention of going too far or taking advantage of his family’s allowing you to stay here tonight however. It wouldn’t be right.

But you were still young as well, and it’d be a lie to say it didn’t feel good as he touched your face and your own hand moved onto his chest. It was something too how quickly the heat rose inside you. You could feel the outline of his body through his shirt as your hand trailed down.

He was warm, his abdomen firm against your moving hand. You kissed him harder actually as his own hand moved back behind your neck. But you needed to stop soon, either that or he needed to wear thicker clothing as your hand wandered further.

It was him that surprised you to finally pull back first though. Yet smiling at you again as he kept his face close.

Your breathing had already changed a little as you looked back to him before he glanced down. He raised an eyebrow at your hand now resting on the waistband of his shorts.

Realizing what he was looking at, you pulled your hand away, apologizing reflexively. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to…” Your mind fumbled a little. Your hand had just been running down. There was no real intent behind it, despite how it looked.

“You’re so funny. Seriously.” He said in that slight tone of amusement though. “Jumping out a plane one day, ready to sacrifice yourself samurai warrior style for your buddies, brave as shit.” He tilted his head, before then enclosing his hand around yours that you’d just pulled back. “But here you get flustered? I’m just a guy, (Y/N). Total nobody. There’s nothing to apologize for. Though I still don’t get it at all. I mean, why you like me like you do.”

“But you admit it then at least?” You tried to counter back, instead of arguing against his very real point that a new relationship could be more intimidating to you than a battlefield. “You admit that I like you. Instead of just telling me I’m making a mistake?”

“Yeah, I mean I guess even I can’t really make up a story of why you’d choose to drive all the way back to New York by yourself instead of bringing one of your friends here with you…unless you really wanted to be one on one with me.” But he just smirked once more, leaning in again to steal a quick additional kiss before pulling back away. “Guess you’re just that nuts.”

“Thanks.” You joked back.

“Takes one to know one.” He answered tauntingly, then sliding off the bed a little awkwardly as he put his feet back on the floor, albeit trying to only put weight on his good leg.

He didn’t have to go far though to reach a nearby closet, pulling a large blanket from it. He wadded it up a little, then tossing it to you. “Since you’re being modest though, you can sleep with Optimus Prime and Megatron tonight. But here, take one of my pillows too.”

In the dark, you couldn’t really make out what was on the blanket. Some sort of characters. You’d just have to take his word on it being Transformers before you caught the pillow that he threw to you next.

“As far as which couch you sleep on, your call. But Wanda always gets up, classic insomniac. I don’t think you want to tempt her with the opportunity to peek into your head if you stay in the living room. She hasn’t met you for real yet and probably still wants the background deets on you.”

“She’s another psychic?” At first you couldn’t remember if he’d already told you that or not. But no, you definitely would have recalled that. Yet maybe this was better? You wouldn’t have to prove anything if she could just see the truth in your mind of how you felt for her brother.

But Peter waved his hand in a ‘so-so’ type gesture. “I don’t think labels really work well with my sister. Yeah, she can get in people’s heads. But she’s not like your friends. She’s her own deal. It’s different. There’s a lot more that she can do. I’m just saying I wouldn’t advise messing with her is all.”

Whatever concerned look you must have given then was enough for him to quickly continue though, “But I’ll work on her the whole time while you’re back in New York. She just doesn’t know you yet. It’ll be fine!”

“Uh huh.” You said, not so confidently. “Guess I’m sleeping on this couch then.”

“A wise choice I think.”

“Of course, you could just be saying all this to get me scared enough to stay down here.”

“Oh, it’s both of course.” He smiled, watching you lay down on the couch even as he got into his bed. “And if you get cold, babe. I’m just a few feet away you know.”

Even from here, you were pretty sure he winked at you as you wrapped yourself up in that blanket he’d given you and stretched out on his couch. “If I go over there, I’m not coming back over here and I know it.”

“Or I could come over there,” he offered, only half jokingly of course.

But you just laid your head on the pillow, knowing you were trying to do the right thing at least. “Not enough room for your leg. You’d be uncomfortable.”

“If you say so, killjoy.”

You only smiled. “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Night, Glo-Worm.” He responded happily.

“Ugh,” You’d hoped he’d forgotten that by now, but apparently not. “Really have to fix that. There’s got to be a better codename for me.”

“Well we can’t all be Quicksilver. Sorry, I called dibs.”

“And we can’t all choose our nicknames out of a department store display case either.” You retorted.

“Ouch. Touché.”

He didn’t tease you anymore after that, but you could still feel his gaze on you as you closed your eyes again not long after. He was close enough that you also felt safe, even here in this new environment.

It was going to be hard to leave tomorrow, that much was certain. But at least you’d also know what you’d have to look forward to as soon as his cast was off again.

Maybe the next time you two fell asleep under the same roof, it’d be in a more neutral territory where you wouldn’t have to worry about his mother or sister’s judgement. Then you could hold him just like you wanted to. And it would be well worth the wait.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[fallingforyou123]

Cupcakes and Therapy-Meeting

A/N: I'm so sorry this is late, I had it queued up for the wrong day, but it's finally here. This is just the first part, I plan on continuing this with little blurbs after. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.15k

Warnings: Some language, a panic attack and talks of panic attacks, falcon and the winter soldier spoilers

He woke up in a cold sweat, the last of his nightmare still fresh on his mind. For the third time that night he’d been jolted awake, the idea of sleep slowly slipping away. The sun was just starting to rise, a few rays slipping through the cracks in the blinds. He hadn’t slept through the night since his time in Wakanda. After Steve left him and the fighting stopped, there was nothing keeping his mind occupied anymore.

Slowly, he rose from his makeshift bed on the floor, every inch of his body aching from lack of sleep. He made his way over to the window, looking out at the street below. A new hobby he’d found was people watching, as creepy as it is for an ex-assassin to do, but it calmed him. It brought him back to reality when he felt like he was slipping into a dark place.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s stood there until Alpine starts rubbing up against his leg, meowing loudly. Alpine never fails to remind him just how utterly starving he is after sleeping for 22 hours a day. Bucky makes his way to the kitchen to fill his bowl, making note of all the things he’s running out of, a trip to the market after therapy becoming his plans for the day.

He throws a jacket on over his t-shirt and slips on a pair of gloves before leaving the apartment and making his way to the small coffee shop just around the corner. His routine had started consisting of coming here at ungodly hours of the morning for breakfast before making his way to his weekly therapy sessions.

He walked in and sat at his usual table, the barista on shift coming over with his usual coffee and muffin. Bucky hands her a crumpled 5 with a small smile, before grabbing a newspaper. He doesn’t really read it, he’s not one for politics before noon, but he does it to keep him occupied. It also helps to make it not look like he’s scoping the place out when he sits there for hours a day.

He sits there sipping his coffee and nibbling on his muffin, still too shaken from his nightmare to stomach much. He looks up from the newspaper every now and then to watch the people around him. Sunday mornings make the cafe crowded, couples and groups of friends line the one wall, families taking up space at the tables, and a few solos floating through.

There’s a feeling in his chest that hits him hard as he watches a mom trying to wrangle her daughter as the dad laughs. It hits again as he sees a woman curled into the side of the man beside her, giggling at something he’s whispering in her ear. His eyes shift from person to person, the ache growing strong as his breathing becomes difficult. He stands up abruptly, his knee hitting the table causing his coffee to spill, the few people around him shooting him strange looks. He rushes for the door, barely having time to apologize for bumping into someone.

The heat hits him hard when he steps outside, the feeling of being suffocated only worsening. He can’t think straight, the lack of air in his lungs making him dizzy. He turns into an alleyway, leans against the wall and tries to ground himself. A woman spots him as she walks by, coming over to check on him. She rests her hands on his arms, shaking him gently to get him to focus on her.

“Sir, sir you’ve got to breathe. In, out. Easy, easy. There you go.”

Her voice is smooth, almost melodic, and it does the trick to help calm him. Bucky attempts to follow her breathing, gasps of air slowly turning into steady breaths.

He manages to say a small “Thanks,” between breaths. The girl smiles and lingers a little longer to make sure he’s okay before heading on her way. Bucky’s stuck momentarily, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Suddenly much more tired and willing to go back to bed, he wishes he could head back home and hide for the rest of the day, but he doesn’t want to deal with what’ll happen if he doesn’t show up to therapy.

***

He keeps zoning out as his therapist talks, his mind wandering to what had happened that morning. He was no stranger to panic attacks, but they usually came after a nightmare, not sitting in a coffee shop. And the woman, no ones ever been that quick to help him, not when he looks the way he does. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, her face stuck in his mind.

“James, at least pretend to pay attention.” His therapist's voice knocked him out of his thoughts.

“I’m listening.”

“No you’re not, you’ve got that look on your face that means you’re thinking about your nightmare while telling me you’re not having any.” Her voice is calm, but he knows she’s getting annoyed with him.

“I can assure you, I’m not thinking about a nightmare. I, uh, had a panic attack this morning.” He looks away from her, the confession more than he’s ever shared.

“James, that’s normal. PTSD has a lot of symptoms.”

“No, no this was different. This wasn’t because of a memory or a nightmare. I was sitting drinking coffee, just looking around, and it hit me. I had to leave, spent a while trying to calm myself in an alley. And this woman, she came over and tried to help me. I mean, it worked, but I just, I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, you’ve got to stop downplaying these things.” She’s really starting to get annoyed now, her voice now having a slight edge to it.

Bucky can’t quite figure out what pisses him off more, knowing she’s right, or how she doesn’t sugar coat things.

“Tell me exactly how it started, what were you doing?”

He groans, not feeling up for a heart to heart at the moment.

“Listen, I told you. I was drinking coffee and looking around. People watching, I guess. Keeps me occupied.”

“Ah,” she sighs. “I think what’s happening is your minds telling you that you’re lonely. Seeing all those people being happy together, it’s something you haven’t had in a while. You need people, James.”

He doesn’t want to hear it and she knows it. It’s all he’s been told for months now. But he’s fine, really. He has weekly lunches with Yori, and Alpine is plenty of company when he’s at home.

“Listen doc, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. After everything that’s happened to you, being alone is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape it.”

***

The market was crowded today. The mid-summer heat enticing people to spend their days in the sun. Bucky made his way through the rows of stands, stopping to grab various items he thought his fridge was lacking. This had become a weekend routine for him, spending Sunday afternoons trying to create some sort of normality in his life.

He gets distracted momentarily by the sound of a high pitched laugh, forgetting about the bag of fruit being handed to him. It’s then that he spots you, the same girl who helped him in the alley. You’ve traded your hoodie for a tank top and you’ve got a little yellow apron covering you now. There’s a basket of pastries in your hand and you’re laughing with a group of people.

That small ache in his chest makes an appearance again, thoughts racing through his mind. Bucky doesn’t believe in fate, he’s far too old and seen too many things to think it’s real. But in this moment as he watches you, the girl who took time to care for him in a dark alleyway, looking like the world belonged to her, he can’t help thinking that maybe it does exist.

He doesn't know what comes over him, but before he knows it, he’s shoving everything into his bags and heading towards the shop. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, blinded by the need to just be near her. Before he can reach you, you’ve already headed back into the building and stationed yourself behind the counter.

He walks in and is hit with the smell of fresh pastries and he’s brought back to spending weekend mornings baking with his mom and sister. You’re just finishing up with the group, turning your attention to Bucky, “Hi! Welcome to Honey, what can I get for ya?”

Bucky blinks a few times, suddenly losing every ounce of confidence he’d had. “Do you need a few more minutes? Or would you like a suggestion?”

He takes a second to compose himself before replying, “Yeah, um. A suggestion, please?”

He doesn’t understand where his shyness has come from, but you seem to find it endearing. You motion to the display case and start rambling on about each treat, “The orange zest cookies seem to be a fan favourite, personally I like the neapolitan ones the best. We’ve also got every flavour of scone you could imagine if you’re feeling more classy. And oh, this one's new, bourbon pecan nut bars, a little midday pick me up. We’ve also got some fresh sandwiches if you’re looking for lunch. Or if you’re still not sure I can do a sampler box?”

“Yea, I’ll just get one of those, and maybe a sandwich too?”

“Sure thing!”

Bucky watches you fill up a little basket for him, noticing how you add multiples of your favourites. When you head into the back for a moment, he starts figuring out how to bring up this morning without being creepy. He doesn’t want to sound like he stalked you, that would really mess up his shot with you. You finish it up with a fresh sandwich from the back and hand him a neatly wrapped basket. “Alright, is that everything?”

Bucky realizes that this is his last moment to say anything, “Yes, and no. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m the guy who you stopped to help in the alley this morning. I didn’t stalk you or anything, I swear, I was just shopping in the market when I saw you and I thought I’d come over and say thank you.” By this point he’s wishing the ground would open up and swallow him, his face turning extremely red.

“I thought it was you. Don’t worry, I’m not freaked out. It’s no big deal, I’m glad you’re okay. I know how scary panic attacks can be when you’re alone, I’ve had far too many.” You offer him some sympathy, knowing how awful these things can be.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Thank you again for the help. I’m Bucky by the way.” He reaches his hand out towards you, and when you take you swear you feel something, “Y/N, nice to meet you.” You reply with a smile.

The both of you stand there for a moment, lost in each other, only shaken out of it by the ringing of the door as someone enters. “I should go, I’m still on the clock.” You reluctantly let go of his hand.

“Can I get your number before I leave?” The question takes you by surprise, but you’re quick to put your number in his phone, and he makes a promise to call you later that night.

***

When you arrive home that evening you’ve completely forgotten about the promised phone call, too eager to make dinner and then climb into bed. You’re in the middle of cooking when your phone goes off with an unknown number on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Bucky.”

That voice fills your ears and your heart stops for a moment. He sounds tired, the raspiness sending a warm shiver throughout your body.

“Hey, yea, how are you?”

The both of you fall into comfortable small talk. He asks you about work and you tell him about all of your favourite moments from the day. You ask him about the pastries you sent him home with and he confesses that his favorite were the oatmeal lemon cookies, they remind him of the ones his mom used to make.

You end up still on the phone with him by the time you’re curled up in bed, barely able to keep your eyes open. “You should go to bed doll, I can hear how tired you are.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Bucky laughs, a small little chuckle, and all you want is to be able to hear that sound forever. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow after I’ve closed up the bakery and I’ll teach you to make something?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you tomorrow doll.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.”