#sorry I feel like I’m repeating myself / making little sense sometimes in here

[louisisalarrie]

Hello love. I like sending you asks because you’re always great at responding. This one is a bit sensitive. Don’t post if not appropriate.

Louis and alcohol. You’ve worked with him and seen him a little more closely than most. Is he a massive drinker (like, every day) or is his alcohol consumption a little exaggerated? I’ve seen other posts referring to him as having a problem, which seems a cruel assumption when people don’t know the guy.

It looks to me like there’s a ton of boozing on tour (lots of stories from other artists who’ve worked with him confirm they all drink a lot when they’re all together) but L never looks as though he goes on stage p*ssed. He tends to have beer on stage with him but never drinks the whole thing (I kind of feel like it’s a bit of a nervous habit, to have a drink there he can grab but not to be necessarily knocking it back show). I mean he definitely looks like he drinks a lot post show but we never hear of him turning up to meet fans drunk or smelling of booze (and there dont seem to be any major boozy stories about him doing something bad because he was drunk - oh apart from breaking his arm!) so I’m on the fence about whether or not he does have unhealthy drinking habits or not. He seems pretty controlled and put together with the occasional post show drunken/stoned selfie!

What are your thoughts?

I guess I just want a healthy Louis.

Hello anon! Apologies for the hold up on this, I wanted to do a good and thorough job at responding because it is a sensitive topic, for sure. I’m not sure how much you dabble in substances, your age, or your experiences with said substances, so what I say may feel like it’s still too much, but yeah, I hope I can provide you with some reassurance. So, lovely anon, welcome to the show!

TW for alcohol and drug use

Drinking and drug use is heavily glorified, over indulged in, and used as a crutch in the entertainment industry, but often times you only hear the worst of it. You’ve got the stories of overdoses, media analysing stars because they look drunk performing on stage, and artists having a bad/shocking image because they partake in alcohol/drugs depending on who their demographic is (zouis weed video, for example).

It’s often used as a coping mechanism, to just take a bit of the edge off. This doesn’t mean that all artists use it to an extreme extent to where they can’t perform/can’t live without it (like it’s portrayed in A Star is Born), and don’t get me wrong, some do, but from what I’ve seen and my pals and colleagues in the music industry have seen, Louis doesn’t overindulge.

I mean, they’d have a drink (or multiple) for the same reasons as we do, to just… chill out the nervous system, or carry on the energy. Dissipate some anxiety before going on stage and while on stage, calming down your body and mind from the adrenaline afterwards, partying and carrying on a bit more heavily if you’re celebrating. I’ve toured, not to the same extent as L or H, but it becomes quite normalised within people from the artist’s direct team, their direct touring crew, to the promoters, to the artist’s personal friends. It’s SO much work putting on these shows and travelling and when everything goes well, it’s a huge relief and time for a beverage or a joint. It’s just kinda… very normalised, which is also really bad, but Louis, from what I’ve seen and heard, is smart with it.

You’re correct in saying he isn’t drunk on stage, he doesn’t smell like substances (only cigarettes but that’s a whole other story), and only has 1 beer on stage.

His rider is pretty standard too. Artists over order so they don’t need runners to go get them stuff causing a delay. And then they take whatever they don’t finish to the hotel with them or whatever. If you were famous you’d wanna milk the free stuff 100%, so yeah, if that is a cause of concern for some fans seeing the leaked LATAM rider, I can assure you that it doesn’t go that far between the amount of people in his band and crew. It’s just… very normalised, but doesn’t happen every night.

Louis also just loves to dabble in the devils lettuce (im super annoyed that I have a story about this that I can’t share but he’s fucking hilarious) and loves a drink. Alcohol is also super normalised and encouraged in the UK, and here in Australia too. So I see a lot of it and it’s just kind of a thing you… do. It’s more so if you don’t drink, people are like ????? Hahaha.

So growing up in a country where it’s very normal to drink a beer or get pissed, it’s kind of engrained, and then being in an industry where it’s also normalised, it’s 100% natural to lean into it. When I drink on tour, it’s certainly less often than artists, but it’s just a social celebration thing and it’s kind of expected to a degree. In my opinion, and from what I’ve seen of him going on tour, he doesn’t have a problem nor loses any professionalism on or off the stage. He’s very serious about making these shows good and proving himself.

When I was backstage with him at one of these shows, he was in a green room that wasn’t too far from my office. He is so LOUD and hearing his giggle and talking shit was so wild hahaha. I could smell cigarettes, and heard him and his band/crew do a shot before the show, but apart from that I think maybe they had one or two beers in the late arvo together. I don’t clean/service green rooms so I can’t tell you 100% how much they drank, but it was pretty lowkey. I also don’t think he gets stoned before going on stage (I would’ve smelt it). I think it’s purely an after show fun time which also helps him sleep from jet lag/adrenaline etc. like I mentioned earlier.

He eats well, and while not as healthy as H, still filling food and has an appetite (im talking during the day, not the wild amount of munchies he orders post show), so he’s not letting alcohol/nicotine curb his appetite to that point. He did have bottle service at his hotel on a couple of those nights, too. But again, the bigger indulgence seems to be post show. He’s overall still healthy.

From what we’ve seen, it would be very easy to spot if he was going too far. He’s 100% in control and uses it as a small crutch like a lot of us do due to the intense stress of our jobs. Tbh he also just likes a drink and a joint or two and there’s no reason to worry. Hell, I like a drink or a joint or two and im good at my job, know when to stop, and uphold my professionalism to a high standard. There’s truly no reason to worry, he’s just louder about it than the other boys (I’ve heard that Niall gets on it just as much, but we don’t see it).

Now, it may seem like im making excuses for the industry or for Louis or whatever, but truly, it kinda is what it is. There has been a small but significant shift in the industry around drinking and drug use though, and how it affects mental health, which is great. In Australia, we have a resource called “Support Act” which is an organisation that now has a 24/7 wellbeing hotline for artists, industry folks, and crew, and while it has been around since 1997, it is obviously far bigger and more accessible now due to technology etc., and has great resources. The UK similarly has “Music Minds Matter”, and there are multiple around the US. So there is definitely a larger awareness on the toll touring and an industry career can take on you, and I have no doubt that Louis is aware of his limits and has supportive and wonderful people around him.

Wow okay this turned into a whole other thing. Sorry!!! Hahaha. Look, in short, he drinks nowhere near as much as other artists I’ve worked with (8 bottles of top shelf whiskey in one night thanks) and unless we see any cause for concern, im sure he’s okay, 100% in control, and just living his best life as a 32 yr old successful rockstar. Try not to worry!

[edensbuttercups]

Social Battery - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

A/N: This has been a wip for so long but it's finally here! I can only hope it's good, but yeah, I hope you enjoy 💕

Words: 4.4k

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Your steps echoed on the ground. 

The hangar was empty apart from the man you had been looking for everywhere, and even if you still felt tense, you felt a little bit victorious too. “Can I talk to you?” you spoke to his back, knowing that he had heard you walked in, because how could he not, but not in the mood to walk the extra steps to face him or wait for him to turn around for you. “With me?” he asked, finally turning. He didn’t have to look so cute when he was confused, which was often, for some reason, and yet he always did. Eyebrows scrunched and lips tight, but kind eyes and a hand pointing at his face, to add a visual aid to his extremely complicated question. “Oh, Rooster? Sorry, I was looking for Hangman, the similarity with your eye colour, facial hair and fashion sense is so fucking similar, I must’ve gotten confused.” You spun on your heel, the question you had wanted to ask him bubbling away and leaving its space to anger, or frustration, or whatever the hell you were feeling, but you didn’t get far before he caught up to you, stopping you when his hand gently tugged on your arm. “Hey, hey, hey, sorry. Talk to me, what is it?” He had been lost in thought, and didn’t want to scare you away with his silliness.

He knew you had been looking for him, clear by the urgency with which you’d walked in, but he didn’t think you’d react that way. You contemplated not telling him about how you felt exhausted from people, how you needed a break, how you had almost snapped at Maverick earlier today because he had asked you if you had slept well, but his worried expression was something you couldn’t bear. “I… it’s nothing too serious, actually.” You saw his shoulders relax at your words, but his hold on you didn’t falter, and his expression softened only a bit, still wanting to know what was on your mind. “Serious or not, you came all the way here to talk to me, so c’mon.” he urged gently, a smile tugging softly at his lips. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. So.” Words were sometimes incredibly annoying, and you started to wish that you had thought more about what to say. “I’ve been feeling stressed because I’m always around people and I need time for myself and I was wondering if maybe I could spend a day or two in your dorm room if that doesn’t bother you?” If words barely came before, now they wouldn’t stop, amusing Rooster to no end while you were talking, needing a moment however to understand the mixture of them once you were finished. “My dorm?” “Yep. I know technically it’s not allowed, but if it’s okay with you I’ll sneak in, and I’ll barely make a noise, I promise.” “Oh, that’s not what’s worrying me, don’t worry. I was just wondering… I might sometimes be there.”

The two of you had spent time in his room, it wasn’t uncommon, occasional movie nights or simple evenings spent with a beer and some music, simply talking about life. And you had crashed there before, although it had never really been planned, just an accidental sorry-I-fell-asleep-while-you-were-talking type of thing.  “I mean, yeah, it’s your room.”  “So, when I’m not training, I’ll be there. And it’s Friday tomorrow so I guess tomorrow night I’ll be in later, and you could join us if you’d like, clearly, but-“ You shook your head, both to decline his offer - tomorrow just wouldn’t be a Hard Deck type of night, you were afraid - and to stop his words. “It really doesn’t matter when you get back, Rooster. Again, it’s your room.” “But you said you don’t want to be with people for a bit.” “Yeah, but you don’t count.” He didn’t know how to take that. He didn’t count as people? That felt oddly insulting, but he also sensed that you didn’t say that with any sort of malice. So...? “I… don’t count.” He repeated slowly, trying to get something out of you. “No.” “As people.” “Well, you certainly are a people.” You joked, shoving him lightly with a smile, already feeling better after talking to him. “I don’t think I understand.” He confessed, finally letting go of your arm so that he could scratch behind his neck. “Well… I mean, I don’t feel the need to get away from you.” The simple revelation had your cheeks burning, the words feeling a little too real as you pronounced them, but it was the truth.

You and Rooster had been friends for a while now, and not once had you felt the need to go away, his personality always adapting perfectly to yours and vice versa, easily reading your mood and knowing just when to speak more or less, when to crack more jokes, or cook, or sing you a song and pull you up to dance. It was an effortless friendship, and even in your worst moods he always knew how to pick you up. His expression softened at your words, looking down before meeting your eyes again, happy that you felt comfortable with him just as much as he did with you. “You know me. You get me. And I just feel good when I’m around you.” You added when he didn’t speak, feeling slightly unsure now that all that he was doing was staring at you. 

He nodded, taking in your words and not allowing himself the time to dwell on them, the thoughts that would plague him acting as nothing but a distraction for the rest of the day if he did. He patted your back once before gently pushing you back out of the hangar, walking with you until you were both in the sun, one of your eyes closing as you turned to look at him, the sun shining down way too brightly to properly see him. “Go grab what you need. I’ll be waiting at my place, yeah?” There was a sort of intimacy in the way he asked, a simplicity and a promise to be there for you, any other things he had left to do for the day being swept away in favor of getting you settled in at his place and maybe spending time together, if so you desired. 

-- Your bag had been mostly packed the night before, having already settled on leaving for a little while either way. Plan B would’ve been that of staying at a motel for a few nights, one not too far from here, but staying with Rooster was far better, both because it meant saving on the motel’s fees, and because you’d get to spend time with him while also recharge. You added the last few items in, some skincare products, a notebook, a book, your chargers and devices you had planned on bringing along and zipped your bag up, leaving a note by the door to say goodbye, even if you had already mentioned you’d be away for a few days and closed the door behind you, slowly making your way to Rooster’s place. 

-- 

You were thankful when you got to his front door, the weight of your bag slowly starting to hurt your back.

He opened the door with a smile, welcoming you with a small hug.

“So, I’ve got snacks, there’s food in the fridge, so you can just help yourself to whatever. Now, I just was wondering, want me to leave, or…?” He asked, leaning against the couch as his eyes followed you. “No.” You replied with a chuckle, shaking your head as you walked to his bedroom, letting your bag fall to one side and picking out what you needed, leaving some of your products out so that you could place them in the bathroom later, as well as some comfy clothes you could wear around the house. “I might shower, if that’s okay, but then we could watch something together? Or play a board game, if you’d like.” You offered, knowing how much he enjoyed playing them, and even if they could take ages, you still enjoyed them with him, loving how his cheerful smile was contagious as he played and talked, his stories never getting old. “Of course. I left a t-shirt by the bed? Unless… you have your own.” He added with a chuckle, letting himself fall on the couch, not seeing how you put your own shirt to the side, picking his up instead, smiling at the gesture. “This will do! Thank you.” You hummed, grabbing all you needed and making your way to the bathroom, sending him a wink. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be with you!”  He hummed out a sure, one you didn’t hear as you close the door, slipping out of your clothes and into his shower, letting out a breath of relief when the warm water came in contact with your skin, the day’s, or week’s, tensions slipping away. 

And there truly wasn’t anything easier. You put his shirt on, smiling at the comfort it brought you, the softness of it, the smell that was distinctly him, even if it lacked his cologne.  When you stepped out of the bathroom, you found him sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when he heard you enter, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he gave you a small smile, looking away quickly before you could see the faint blush on his cheeks.  "Ready to watch something? Or…" he asked, setting his phone down on the coffee table and gesturing towards the small bookshelf he had by the tv, your favourite board games all stashed there.  You nodded, taking a seat beside him on the couch, “movie sounds good,” you hummed. He handed you the remote, letting you choose what to watch. You scrolled through Netflix for a few moments before settling on a comedy, wanting something light to watch, but also not wanting to concentrate on something, just wanting to relax. 

As the movie played, you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, taking in his features. It was easy to be with him, his soft laughter contagious, his eyes looking at you at a particularly funny joke making you smile. You wondered when you’d admit, to yourself and to him, that maybe you wanted more than friendship. 

But you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the movie and trying to enjoy the moment. You laughed at the jokes, and he laughed with you, his hand brushing against yours on the couch. It was a small gesture, but it sent shivers down your spine.

-- 

He opened his eyes, taking in his room as he sighed, picking his phone up to check the time and letting out a silent groan. He turned to look at you when he felt you shift, first to wake and then to stretch, keeping his lips tightly sealed as he took you in. You felt his eyes on you, ignoring them as you allowed your body to catch up with your brain, waking up as his alarm finally went off.  “What?” You finally mumbled when he didn’t say anything, his lips still shut but trying not to show his smile. “Was afraid you’d snap at me if I talked at this ungodly hour.” He whispered, this time not hiding his smile and grinning rather happily at you, a smile that you couldn’t help but mirror.

He looked a little too good for this early in the morning, his eyes looking at you so softly, hair ruffled and skin golden from all the time in the sun, and you couldn’t help but make a mental snapshot of this for future reference, whatever that would be. 

And yeah, Bradley was an attractive man, it was impossible to not notice, but that didn’t change that 7am hadn’t even rolled by yet, and this man already looked that good. “Shut up.” You said after a while, thanking the darkness of the room for covering the blush that had started colouring your cheeks when you noticed just how long you had been staring at him, his smirk just growing, even if he wouldn’t tease you about it. “Okay.” He mimicked a zip closing his mouth, standing from the bed with a little bow. “Okay, no, don’t take that literally. I like your voice.” You muttered, sitting up a little better and rubbing your eyes, letting the revelation fall from your lips with no thought, too busy trying to not crawl back under the covers again. 

You didn’t catch it, but he had given you a smile that held nothing but love at your comment, his cheeks now reddening too as he reached for his clothes, collecting all he needed for the day and placing it in one pile, then grabbing what he’d be wearing and holding on to it. “You know, you don’t have to stay up. Go back to sleep, okay?”  It was nice, not waking up alone, even if he wanted to keep his routine quicker than usual, wanting to leave you your space and not impose. Or get back in bed with you, sleep for a little longer, make that distance between you a little less and maybe even hold you, just for a bit.  It had happened only once or twice, that during movie night you’d end up falling asleep at one point, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping protectively around you, but it hadn’t happened many times, and he knew it couldn’t happen now.  “I’ll wait until you go.” You looked up at him and smiled, one eye closed as you leaned against the wall, eyes still on him.  Rooster nodded quickly, tightening the hold on his clothes. “I’ll go shower and then I’ll leave, yeah?” He said quickly, not even if you had said that he didn’t count with the whole getting exhausted of people, he still didn’t want to be overbearing. “Oh, sure, yeah.” You nodded, sending him a quick smile before he disappeared behind the bathroom door, leaving you to snuggle into his bed, careful not to fall asleep as you shifted lower, moving closer to the centre of the bed now that he had left it, settling your head between your pillow and his, the smell of his cologne clinging to the material and making you close your eyes as you breathed it in, letting your body relax in his bed. 

Out of the shower and already dressed for the day, Rooster couldn’t help but smile when he saw you cuddled up into his bed again, and he had to resist the urge to climb in with you. He knew you wanted space, knew this was about you getting some, but that sentence, I don’t feel the need to get away from you, it just made him want to hold you, even if that was a line he knew he shouldn’t cross, no matter how deeply he wanted to. But, compromising with himself, he walked over, smoothing your hair down and smiling at you once more when you opened your eyes, expression warm as you looked up at him. “I’ll probably come back later, yeah? Before heading out to the Hard Deck?” He hummed, voice low as he spoke. “I’d like that, yeah.” You already knew you wouldn’t be heading out with him, preferring the calmness of being here, maybe picking a good movie or relaxing with a face mask, but you still were happy about the idea of him coming back to hang out with you, even if only for a little while. Rooster had his ways of just fitting well with you, and most times you hated that about him, like  you were right now.  Fingers combing through your hair, voice low to not disturb you, face close as he considered placing a kiss on your forehead. He was careful, and attentive, and funny, and flirty, and teasing, and kind, and it made you wonder how much longer you could go before you’d have to tell him how you felt, your feelings from him having started to shift a while ago now. You could take it, you thought, a simple friendship, if that’s what he wanted, but not knowing what his feelings were while also fitting so comfortably in his arms was proving a harder task each day. “I’ll see you later.” He finally hummed, kissing your forehead gently and moving away before he could spot your reaction, sending you a wave as he picked his things and walked out the door, leaving you alone in his apartment, in his bedroom, in his t-shirt. 

-- 

You had ended up spending a few more hours in bed, basking in the sweet feeling of tranquility that washed over you every time you turned in bed, his smell, the softness of the sheets, the relief of not having to deal with other people for the day. By 10am you had gotten up and started making yourself breakfast.  The rest of the day went by easily, between watching series and movies, catching up on reading, resting, playing, and simply doing nothing. The afternoon was slowly winding to an end when you heard footsteps approaching from outside, turning towards the door to greet your new roommate.  “Good day?” You asked when he walked in, his frown softening when he saw you draped over his couch, facing him with a bright smile. It’s not that he had forgotten that you were there, quite the opposite actually, the thought never left his mind, but he hadn’t expected you to be so happy to see him, maybe. Or maybe it was just you. In his home, there for him, and it felt sweet, and domestic, almost. He could get used to this a little too easily, and it scared him. “Long day.” He finally answered, taking his boots off and stretching. “You?” “Oh, very good, yeah.” You replied, smiling at him. “Good. I'm glad to hear that.” He said, walking towards the kitchen to grab a drink. As he passed by you, you couldn't help but catch his scent, a mix of his cologne and the smell of the outdoors. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself wanting to get closer to him. As he rummaged through the fridge, you couldn't help but admire his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was a handsome man, and you had always found him attractive, but he was your best friend, and that was all. 

As he turned around, drink in hand, he caught you staring at him and raised an eyebrow. You quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Everything okay?” He asked, walking over to sit next to you on the couch. “Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a second.” You said, trying to play it cool. He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “You're cute when you're flustered.” “Oh, shut up.” You chuckled, walking over and playfully slapping his arm, reaching for a glass yourself. “I mean it.” He repeated, smirking. “Shush. So, Hard Deck tonight? Drinks with your sworn enemy Hangman?” you joked, knowing him and Hangman weren’t enemies in the slightest, had solved all their issues a few months ago. 

–--

You stood when you heard the steps approaching the door, a smile on your face, knowing Rooster was bound to come home soon, judging by the 12am rule he had, always wanting to be at home by that time, in bed just a little while later, not wanting to risk messing up his body clock.  “Roos?” You called, opening the door and standing by it, eyes widening when you spotted Hangman holding Rooster up, laughing as they walked, one of them clearly drunker than the other. “Sweetheart!” Hangman called happily when he noticed you, the beers consumed enveloping him in a comfortable buzz, his mind not even questioning why you were at Rooster’s place, or why you hadn’t been around all day, just accepting it with a smile, leading your new roommate back to you. “Good night?” You asked, arm sliding under Rooster’s, holding him up as you tried to support his weight, his arm protectively wrapping around you as his head rested on top of yours, dopey smile only visible by Hangman. “Very good! Rooster here drank a little more than planned, but good.” He said, reaching over to pat Rooster’s shoulder, laughing when he heard the man groan. “I’ll see you around? You’ll make sure he survives the night?” He asked with his signature smirk, hoping his job was done so he could crash on his own bed, having drank more than planned himself, too. “Yep, no worries. Go take care of yourself now, and yeah, see you soon!” You called as he walked down the path, walking slow and calculated steps to his own place, throwing you a thumbs up over his shoulder. You chuckled at the scene, closing the door behind you and Rooster and helping him towards the bed, doubting he’d stand back up if you walked him to the couch instead. He stood in his room, looking at you as you patted his shoulder, pointing to the bed. “Sit. I’ll get you some water.” You muttered, walking towards the kitchen and making quick work of pouring him some fresh water, trying to minimize the damage. “I’m so glad you asked to stay over.” He slurred slightly, letting his weight fall to the bed when you walked back, grabbing the glass of water from your hand and sipping on it, closing his eyes. “Because I take care of you when you’re drunk?” You asked playfully, grabbing the glass back, still half full, from the floor where he had placed it, knowing he’d knock it over if not. “No, ‘cause I love havin’ you around. And ‘cause you’re cute. And it’s nice to wake up next to you, better than I had imagined.” He said with a chuckle, looking up at you with big eyes before blushing, shaking his head at his own words. “Cute?” You asked, even if you were more curious about the waking up by your side part. “Yes. But no, I’ll shut up now.” He chuckled, grin dopey as he looked at you, laying down on the bed and pulling you down with him, his hand resting on your hip. You both were aware, even him, in his drunken state, that this was more than friendly touching, especially paired with his prior words, but neither of you minded it. You nodded, laughing softly and combing your fingers through his hair, pulling some stray strands back and watching amused as his eyes closed and he sighed contently. “I like that.” He whispered, opening his eyes again to look at you, too tired to properly keep them open. “I think it’s bedtime, big boy.” You whispered back, smiling as he closed his eyes, your touch not stopping, set on continuing until he was fast asleep, which didn’t seem would take long. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you again.” He hummed, eyes fluttering open for only one second, closing again when he saw you, as if he needed the certainty that you were still there, still real. “Goodnight.” You whispered, ignoring the blush on your cheeks and the quickening of your heart, fingers threading through his hair, his breathing soft and rhythmical, soon enough signalling his slumber. You peeled away from him, chuckling when he groaned at the loss, tiptoeing around his place until you found everything you could find against his hangover, sure that it would hit him in the morning. 

-- 

You opened your eyes when you felt him shift, his groan waking you up more as you turned to look at him, his hand meeting his head as he held it, another pained groan being huffed out. “There’s painkillers and water on the bedside cabinet.” You whispered, closing your eyes again and feeling him move away, finally realizing just how close you were,  just how he was holding you. Legs tangled, one of his hands still holding yours while the other slipped from your waist to stretch towards the side, finding the tablet and letting it fall into his mouth as he opened the bottle, the top of it already opened the night before, trying to make everything as smooth as possible. 

As he swallowed the pill with a gulp of water, he turned back to you, his eyes still bleary from sleep and the remnants of his hangover. But as he looked at you, his expression softened and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hey," he murmured, his voice raspy from disuse. "Good morning," you replied, returning his smile. You looked at him, the way the soft morning light colored his cheeks, almost unable to look away. He shifted closer to you, his hand still holding yours, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at the intimate contact.  The tension between you both was palpable, and you knew that something had shifted between you since last night. "I had a good dream," he whispered, his gaze never leaving yours. "Oh?" you asked, curiosity piqued. "Yeah," he said, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand. "We were sitting on a beach, watching the sunset. It was just us, and it felt...perfect." You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you couldn't help but think that maybe your feelings for him weren't one-sided after all. "I had a dream too," you said softly, biting your lip nervously. "We were dancing, and you were twirling me around. It felt like we were the only two people in the room." It wasn’t a lie, with the way he had been holding you throughout the night it was an easy thing to imagine, to dream. Rooster's smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Maybe it doesn’t have to be just a dream," he murmured, his hand moving from yours to cup your cheek. And then he kissed you, soft and sweet and tentative at first, but then growing more urgent as the heat between you intensified. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, knowing that all that fear you had held onto, ignoring your feelings for him for who knows what reason, was dissipating in that very moment, his hands holding onto you so carefully.  As you pulled away from the kiss, Rooster's eyes were filled with a newfound intensity, one you already couldn’t get enough of.  You smiled at him, feeling more alive than ever before, and whispered, "Good morning, indeed."

[yandere-romanticaa]

To the anon who was asking abt sex! Here’s my two cents based off of experience..

1. Cockwarming is not like,,, pleasurable. Like when I read fics abt it and the reader is all squirmy and whatever it really doesn’t make sense. If the guy isn’t moving then it doesn’t really feel like anything, and it gets a little uncomfortable after a few minutes of no movement. It’s kinda like using a tampon. I definitely think that the pleasure derived from this is more mental than physical. Only the guy really gets anything physical out of it.

This kind applies to vibrators too. Like internal vibrators are not crazy stimulating but it is enough to make you distracted. But to each their own I suppose.

2. Sex in general. Internal stimulation (P in V) is good, and if I had to describe it I would say it feels like a bruise repeatedly. It’s hard to describe. Like it hurts but not in an ���ow’ way, it feels good. Definitely a feeling that gets the legs shaking after repeated thrusting against that spot.

BUT, I cant finish without stimulation to my clit. It’s definitely different for everybody, but in my case I need clitorial stimulation or else it just feels like I’m on the edge the whole time (which, by the way, is a very unsatisfying feeling).

And thrusting it all in like in one go isn’t possible, remember that your vagina is one giant muscle, and when you stretch a muscle to hard and fast it strains and it doesn’t feel good. Foreplay is very helpful bc it loosens you up first, but even then you can’t force it in at one go. You kinda gotta start with the tip first and use short movements to slowly fit the whole thing in.

AND YES!!! THE STRETCH HURTS!!!! If you aren’t prepared properly or your partner just shoves it in it feels like your skin is being stretched (like a rubber band being stretched so much that it’s about to snap) and it’s a sharp pain and you could tear. SO FOREPLAY MATTERS!!!!

3. Cervix stuff… 😭😭😭 Guys. You can NOT thrust into the cervix. These fics are LYING TO YOU!!! It’s literally like trying to thrust through bone, the cervix is hard and even inserting thin items like a Q tip fucking HURTS. Unless it’s like monster fucking with ovipositors then it’s just straight unrealistic. A díck can NOT push through.

Some women find it painful even when their cervix is just thrusted against. (It doesn’t hurt for me so I don’t mind but majority of all the gals I’ve spoken to DONT like it. One of my friends even threw up during sex one time from the pain.)

4. Mind break. Not a real thing. Sorry. After so many rounds, no matter how high your drive is, the sex just starts to feel uncomfortable. Don’t push yourself past that point, listen to your body and know your limits. Because once it feels uncomfortable it kinda starts to hurt. This applies for the guys too. It just stops feeling good after a while and you leave that sort of lust-haze and become very lucid (post-nut clarity LMAOOO), which also makes you feel the discomfort even more.

So yeah, mind break via sex just isn’t a thing because your body literally has a limit. Overstimulation is real but your body has limits for that too. Like after so many orgasms I can’t touch my clit or it feels like a sharp pain. (Again, everyone is different but that’s just me)

And yeah. That’s all I can rlly think of.

This was an interesting read!!!!! I think that smut may or may not have poisoned my brain a little bit so this felt like a breath of fresh air. Of course, one should never take smut too seriously as it is primarily for entertainment, but it really does feel like things can mess you up if you're an inexperienced pookie such as myself!

Truth be told, sex scares me. Like, a lot.

I am in my early 20's and there is this societal expectation that I need a boyfriend. I also live in a fairly conservative country which honestly doesn't help me at all. And it's low key expected from couples to just go at a few months into the relationship, sometimes even after a few weeks depending on the person. That's how most of my friends/acquaintances did it anyway.

Just the thought of a man seeing me so naked and vulnerable like that, it brings tears to my eyes. It legit scares me so much. Buddy, if you see me in my birthday suit you are NOT going anywhere LMAO, you'll have to marry me, I'm sorry -

I've been called an uptight and boring prude for having this kind of mentality and I get it. But I can't help it, I just can't. I don't think I'll ever be able to have that kind of physical connection with anyone unless I know them inside and out 😓 I'm too scared and too insecure for my own good... I also have a few stretch marks on my stomach, which I really hate, I really do. I don't think I could handle the humiliation of another person ever seeing them.

[ananke-xiii]

Sailing from Byzantium or Parents shouldn’t outlive their Children.

    As you set out for Byzantium…

Okay so. I’ve been writing illegibly scribbling about resurrection in SPN for over a month now, so I think it’s finally time to talk about Jack’s (first) resurrection in “Byzantium”. Let’s goooo, I really hope it’ll make sense! As usual, it’s gonna be loooong, without images and with baaaaad paragraphing so just FYI. Here we gooooo.

I’ve described S13 Castiel’s forbidden resurrection (Chuck didn’t want him back, Billie couldn’t care less, no other entities were interested in him being back, like, at all) as a team effort: Dean, Jack, Cas and the Shadow all worked, consciously or not (but mostly not), to get Cas’ ass back on Earth. I’ve also compared it to the myth of Isis and Osiris because, to me, this specific resurrection has some very, veeeery strong romantic undertones to it. Of course, it bears repeating, it’s my interpretation that Cas got back because he was immensely loved and he loved hard in return. The show doesn’t outright say it, but it strongly implies it, and I’ve picked up on that vibe. However, his resurrection was possible in the first place because Jack willed it and he willed it because he missed his father. So another strong theme here is parental love and I loooooooove this stuff. Let me explain.

I’ve elsewhere said that Sam failed Jack the moment he didn’t tell him that he was missing Mary and he wanted her back. If he did, Jack would have latched onto that like I don’t know what, because he understands what it means to miss a mother. A similar thing applies to Dean, although he’s way more emotionally (and brutally) honest with Jack than Sam is. However, what Dean doesn’t outright say is that he blames Jack for Cas’ death (I’ve talked about I many times and I don’t want to repeat myself here, but basically I think that it’s not about Jack per se but about Cas’ choice to leave them and go away with Kelly. In other words, it’s complicated and I can’t always write the same things over and over again, lol, so sorry if I oversimplify sometimes). The moment he does, when he yells in Sam’s face while Jack is eavesdropping, an-already-attuned-to-his-moth-Dean Jack finally understands Dean because Dean’s pain, like Sam’s, is also his.

This is no moral judgement of the characters but an interpretation of the little tragedy that the first episodes of S13 are: three people, closed-off in themselves like monads, who are all grieving and don’t have the tools and/or the strength to really sort through their own emotions. A scene that stuck with me is when Jack is in front of his parents’ fucking pyre and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s a brief scene that tells a lot: Jack’s lost everything the moment he was born and, of course, he doesn’t know what to do with that. Because he’s just born. He’s left with…. The Big Empty. But this is also what Sam and Dean are feeling, in their own ways, so basically if they all knew how to communicate they would have found out that Jack was THE person who could have understood/helped them the most.

But, of course, if that happened, there wouldn’t be any tragedy in the first place so that was the whole point.

Back to Jack’s eavesdropping. I don’t think Jack picks up on the reason why Dean’s out of his mind over Cas’ death because he doesn’t have the same picture that we do. But what’s important is that he understands Dean’s pain because he also feels a similar pain but, of course, in his case he’s missing Castiel as his father. Just like the Quest for Mary isn’t solely due to Jack’s tendency to appease Sam and Dean, the Resurrection of Castiel happens because Jack is attuned to Dean, absolutely yes, but also because he wants it for himself. As in: Oh Dean’s not okay and one of the reasons why is Cas, but wait! I’m also not okay and one of the reasons why is Cas! Because I was supposed to have at least one parent looking out for me and he’s not here for me.

To sum it up: Cas’ resurrection is spurred by romantic love but it’s actualized because of filial love.

I’ve had to say all this because Jack’s resurrection in "Byzantium" follows the same path but in reverse: it’s about parental love but it’s actualized because of… (a-very-twisted-but-here-we-are, let’s-just-say-it-and-be-done-with-it) eroticism. Yes, ‘cause, sure, Chuck has his pervy thing for Dean but the Shadow surpasses even God when it comes to Castiel. Cas is “Of the Shadow”. Because it’s either that or I am the weirdo that instantly associates “I’ll come when you let the sun shine on your face” to la petite mort, the little death. Eros and Thanatos, the usual. I mean, it could be that I’m the weirdo. Let’s see!

If Dean, Jack, Cas and the Shadow were all needed to resurrect Cas, in Jack’s case…

Lily, Jack, Cas… and the Shadow again are needed.

(lol, when I write “and the Shadow” I have that song in my mind, the one that goes “and your friend Steve, tutututuruduuduuuu, Steeeveee, lol)

((also… Dean and Mother Figures… one day I’ll also have to expand on that))

(((also II… I’m super aware that Sam is a VITAL piece in both Cas’ and Jack’s stories and you can find a little bit about it here. I’m soooo sorry to do my little giant dude so dirty by erasing him, but if I add Sam to the picture as well this post becomes a behemoth or something and I can’t have it, I’ll make up to him I sweeeear)))

(((( I know it’s taking so long but we’re going to Byzantium which is pretty far away, be patient))))

All Aboard!

What is Byzantium exactly? Well, “Sailing to Byzantium” and its following “Byzantium” are two poems by W.B. Yeats which constitute the foundation of… “Byzantium” in S14. I’ll be focusing mainly on the first poem because I think it’ll be enough but the two are strongly connected and should be considered together rather than separate.

That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song,

As we can see, one of the main themes in “Sailing to Byzantium” is old age vs “the young” and mortality (of the body) vs immortality (of the soul). These are the same themes of this episode which are translated for the show’s sake into the old theme of the “it’s not natural for parents to bury their children”.

In the bunker, after Jack’s death, Sam, Dean and Cas are lost and don’t know what to do:

[Cas, Dean, and Sam linger in the hallway outside Jack’s room] CAS: Maybe we should… start thinking about next steps. DEAN: Wake and a bonfire, Hunter style. It's what Jack would've wanted. [Sam says nothing, but storms off. Cas tries to stop him, but Dean stops Cas with a hand on his arm] CAS: Sam. [to Dean] Your brother's in pain. DEAN: Just let him be. If he needs his space, we're gonna give it to him.

They need to “bury” Jack and this triggers Sam into running away. Dean and Cas find him defeated in a forest: Sam wanted to gather woods for the pyre and made a whole mess out of it because he’s not okay and he feels like he hasn’t done enough. Like he has failed Jack. To that this is what Cas has to say:

CAS: This doesn't feel right. It's just not how I thought Jack's story would end. SAM: Yeah. None of us did. CAS: The certainty… of death, even for angels, it's always felt natural, but this doesn't. Jack being taken before his time. I mean, taken before me.

This scene establishes that Cas, maybe for the first time, understands relativity… deeply, into his own heart. Death is certain, it’s natural so how come Jack’s death doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel… natural? Jack’s being taken before his (Jack’s) time is not unnatural by definition, it’s unnatural by Cas’ relative notion of Time: Jack’s time (before HIS time) is defined by Cas’ time (before ME) and Cas, like all parents, simply logically refuses the idea or even the possibility of seeing his child being taken away before him. It’s not a law of nature but it’s a law of humanity: no parents should ever see their children die. If that happens, it means that something went wrong, that it wasn’t right. That is no country for old men and no country for parents outliving their children.

In “Ouroboros” when Cas is confronted with the finality of death again, he’ll try his best to reassure Jack and make him understand how time works differently for “things like them” compared to humans. He’s trying to be brave in front of Jack but he’s not reaching him because he doesn’t believe in his own words. He betrays himself when he says that “when Dean wakes up -- and he will wake up -- we just have to remember to appreciate the time that we all have together now”. Even if he’s telling Jack that he must accept Death, he’s not accepting it himself. WHEN Dean wakes up AND HE WILL wake up. PERIOD. This is thinking coming from the heart rather than the mind. And it’s… truer? More vulnerable? Honest?...Human? Maybe the greatest tragedy of humanity is not that we don’t accept our death but that we can’t even conceive of the death of our loved ones. When Death arrives and takes everything from you but… you. And Cas cannot accept either Dean’s not Jack’s death. He simply can’t.

Together with Sam, Cas contacts Lily Sunders, the same woman that wants to kill him to avenge her daughter’s death. Lily, we’re tactlessly reminded by Dean in case we hadn’t noticed lol, is… old.

SAM: Dean, you remember Lily Sunder. DEAN: L-- You got old. LILY: Did I? An unfortunate side effect of giving up magic, I suppose.

She’s old and almost soulless but she can, perhaps, “pull off a miracle” or… a trade. “Resurrection and a cure” in exchange for getting into Heaven… to see her daughter, May.

Old age and the soul is another theme in “Sailing to Byzantium”:

An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence;

The body decays but the soul lives and claps its hands and sings! Despite the “mortal dress” the soul can still be magnificent. In the character of an old(er) Lily Sunders the episode conflates all of its themes: parents and children, soul and mortality.

Yep, because there’s a little caveat in this trade and that’s Jack’s soul. Jack’s first resurrection doesn’t come for free, it has a price that he himself has to pay.

Now this is the point where I have issues with the episode and the series as a whole because “Byzantium” poses an interesting moral dilemma: your life or your soul? Sam, Dean and Cas all have their own take on the matter and the episode explores them. But what about Jack? Since, you know, it's his life and his soul.

Well, unfortunately I don’t think he’s given much of a choice and I think it was unfair.

When in Byzantium…

Yeah, okay, but WHAT is Byzantium? Well, Byzantium is, of course, Heaven. Crumbling empire under siege. Christian stronghold, holy city. Yeah, that’s Heaven right now in s14. So this means that people/entities will have to sail to Byzantium, aka Heaven, in this episode. Conversely, since Heaven is a place for the dead and the Angels, some other people will sail from Byzantium and back to life.

Heaven-Byzantium, however, has a little bit of a problem in the form of the Shadow storming its gates to take Jack’s… soul? The ghost of his Grace? His essence as Nephilim? I mean, I don’t know exactly what the Shadow wants because Jack belongs to two realms at the same time so I guess it wants its half. What I know is that it wants him in some capacity. Although, to be fair, for a cosmic entity that wants to sleep forever, going to great lengths to take one “soul” or whatever seems… weird? I don’t know, what I’m trying to covertly say is that, I think, the show has never really explored the Shadow/Empty and I think it was a shame. It wants to sleep forever but it storms Heaven’s gates for Jack, it wants Cas to suffer BUT it wants him to be happy AND it also wants to stay awake to come to Cas when he’s happy… The Shadow is confused, lol. Or, maybe, in love?? (Okay, now I’m joking but you must admit that the Shadow wants a lot of things. *In Lucille Bluth’s voice*: Good for her!).

Jack’s in Kelly’s heaven but they don't share much screen-time together. As a matter of fact, Jack’s not given much choice to begin with. The “life or soul” dilemma is left unexplored because the plot takes precedence: it’s 46,750,000,000 human souls vs Jack’s soul now. I like that, at first, Cas downright says no to Naomi when she tells him that he must help her stop the Shadow by handig over Jack. But then, when he finds Jack, he seems to change his mind a little:

CAS: Sam and Dean and I-- we found a way to bring you home. JACK: So, I'll be alive again? CAS: Yeah. But to do so, we-- we need to use magic that will draw on your soul. JACK: W-What do you mean, my soul? CAS: It'll be just a small piece. And I know it's too much to ask, but it's the only way. KELLY: No. I-I don't know. CAS: It's not just Jack's life that's at stake. It-- The Empty has invaded Heaven because it wants you.

Kelly going "No" and then "I don't know"... I love her so much, Queen of Messes.

Although Cas told Dean that Jack should have a say in the matter, he eventually decides for Jack and asks “too much” of him. Again, I want to say that this is a judgement-free zone, if I had the possibility to resurrect my dead child I would burn cities and commit genocides, ngl. This kind of prevarication, a prevarication out of love, is something that I can see fit in this episode because it relates to its foundational themes. What I don’t like and think takes something away from Jack is the “It’s not just Jack’s life that’s at stake”. Mmmm it doesn’t sit well with me. Fuck Heaven, fuck cosmic balance and fuck the Empty: if the cosmos can't do its work properly it's not my problem. Overriding personal dilemmas with imminent apocalypse-level threat is something that cannot be overused every other episode or it'll get boring. The stakes cannot always be so high, I need to see characters make their own choices and Dabb era takes this away from me! *Clenched fist raised to the sky for emphasis*.

Since Anubis has been literally summoned in this episode (the Egyptian myths, man... I've been saying... I've been saying) I think I can safely say that on his scale Jack’s soul weighed less than all those billions of souls. In other words, the Greater Good prevails. But what about Jack? Leaving aside whether I like it or not, he still doesn’t get a vote because the whole point is that the Shadow wants what it wants and it wants Jack. So Cas has to interfere and cuts a deal with it. And then we totally forget about Jack’s choice. It’s a given now because it’s the billions of souls and, ON TOP OF THAT, his father’s sacrifice. Even before becoming God Jack was asked to take on his shoulders such impossible burdens and… I don’t know, I actually feel very sorry for him.

So “Byzantium Delivered” by our very Castiel and him and Jack are ready to sail away. For one people leaving, one must arrive. Cas wasn’t the only one who made the sacrifice: Lily pays with her life and we know that her sacrifice is selfless because she manages to enter Heaven’s Gate. As Dean puts it, she couldn’t let anyone go through what she did: outlive their children. There’s a part of me that’s sad that she paid the price and died but another one is happy because now I can speak about something that I adore: parents saving their children.

Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Here Yeats is saying that once he’ll be “out of nature”, aka dead, he’ll never take another bodily form but he’ll become a work of art made of “hammered gold and gold enameling” that will set upon a “golden bough” to sing the past, the present and the future.

I have to tip my hat to Meredith Glynn here because this was awesome. As I’ve said she has used Yeats' poem to talk about parents going to other dimensions and making sacrifices for their children. This is the meaning of the “Golden Bough”.

The “golden bough” refers to an episode in the Aeneid where Aeneas goes into the underworld to meet the shade of his deceased father Anchises. In order to do so this, he must give a gift to Proserpina, the Queen of the Underworld and the gift is the golden bough itself.

I said this was awesome because Aeneas is the son that goes to another dimension to meet his father but in “Byzantium” it's a father and a mother who go to Heaven for their children!!! Which first of all, I think it’s BEAUTIFUL, second of all we have, AGAIN!, a reversal of myths at play here!!!

When I say that Castiel and Jack are exploding myths from the inside I’m not saying it because I’m crazy but that’s because this is what the show was telling me up until a certain point!

If you scratch and scratch and scratch, “Byzantium” is a retelling of the myth of Demeter and Proserpina, the mother going to the underworld to save her daughter (it's waaaay more than this but bear with me or this post'll never end). I mean, isn’t that awesome??? I fucking love it!

I swear I could go on and on (and I will!It's a threat!) but I think it’s high time we left Byzantium…

Goodbye stranger, it's been nice!

I hope I’ve made clear how Jack’s resurrection involved Lily, Cas and Jack himself (although he didn’t have much choice in the matter and that’s regrettable). I have to talk about the Shadow before I let you go of the insanity that is this post. So let’s end it with more insanity, shall we?

O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.

Now this is where my weirdness potentially shows: here Yeats is talking about his desire to meet the “sages standing in God’s holy fire… and be the singing-masters of [his]soul”. He wants his heart to be consumed and freed from the chains of the material body (“dying animal”) and be gathered “into the artifice of eternity”. Now Yeats, to me, is talking about a sort of transcendental and mystical experiences which, as we all know, have very clear sexual undertones. And, I don’t know, I guess I see these (much darker) undertones in this episodes too? The Shadown is the master of Cas’ “soul”, it owns him, to it “years and eons” (the time of the heart for Cas) are nothing. Now or a billion years from now means nothing to something like the Empty. It wants to take Cas when he’s outside of time, in the moment of “happiness” which is the moment when things “happen” (“the artifice of eternity”), which, in turn, is a moment outside of the deterministic world of SPN.

It’s just like when, in “The Big Empty”, the Shadow tries to seduce Cas and persuade him to go back to sleep because, out there, there's nobody who loves him but here with it? There’ll be peace. Only, this time, the Shadow is pretty pissed and it’s like: I don’t want you now because you don’t want me so I want you to suffer now. Go back, live your life, one year, one thousand, it means NOTHING to me. You’re already mine. No, I want to own you to the point that I’ll come to take you the moment you will be happy, when you’ll be outside of time, I’ll come then and take you away with me. Because you’re mine in time and outside of it. Beyond eternity.

I mean, this is perverse and insane but also very erotic :D And, to be honest, it kinda makes sense because the energy of the “Eros” (not sex, "eros" in the psychoanalytical sense) must be involved in a process so delicate as the resurrection. One needs to want life to go back and make people go back to life, you know? And since we’re talking about resurrecting souls, Psyche if you will, you sort of have to have Eros? The two go together.

So to really sum it up this time: Jack’s first resurrection was another team effort. It required a lot of love as usual and this time it was the parental love for their children that pierced the veil and saved the day. But it also needed a bit of erotic sparkle to ignite it, the final, unseen ingredient of the spell. The Shadow provides this sparkle in a capricious way just like only very ancient cosmic entities can do. However, the price that they’ve all paid is very, very high: Lily’s life, Cas’ happiness and Jack’s soul. It’s a bittersweet victory that announces catastrophe.

Okay, I can’t believe I’ve made it but I’ve made it. If you’ve been with me until the end,  I thank you and hug you <3. I hope you enjoyed it!

[darlingpoppet]

any updates on wtdf? i hope u have a wonderful day 💕

Hi anon! Thanks so much for checking in! And thanks for doing it on tumblr, this is a good opportunity to push me out of lurk mode and refill my queue while offering some much needed updates!

Anyways, the short answer is: WTDF chapter 8 is coming along, albeit more slowly than I intended, and it might still be another month or two before it’s finally done.

The longer explanation is this: Chapter 8 is another doozy like chapter 4 was… if you read the notes for chapter 4, or read my other WTDF-related posts here on tumblr, then perhaps you’re familiar with the fact that completing that chapter was also a protracted process that juggled a different fic project with a fixed deadline, a bout of writer’s block, and inspiration wandering to some different one-shots before ultimately getting me back on-track. I’m a bit sorry to say that I seem to be unintentionally experiencing an exact repeat of last year 🥲💦

In April, when I was still on-track to finish the chapter within my self-imposed deadline, a friend asked me to pinch-hit for their zine, and I was happy to put all my own projects on the back burner for a couple of weeks while I helped out a friend in-need. Once that project was finished at the end of April I immediately got back to work on WTDF, but less than two weeks in (right around the time Hades II Early Access dropped, so I was already a little bit distracted lol) I got saddled with a leadership position preparing for an event at my kid’s kindergarten, which took up 100% of my free time as well as the complete use of my hands (because A LOT of crafting was also involved lol.) So for the rest of May, zero writing got done (though I listened to a lot of podcasts and youtube video essays during that time, I’m thinking of making a rec list sometime of the stuff I enjoyed just for fun!)

And now here we are toward the end of June and the chapter still isn’t done. Even now I keep huffing the copium by telling myself I can finish it by the end of the month, but I’m gonna be honest: all of the interruptions & delays have left me struggling to get back in the right headspace for this story & at this point I admit that I seem to have fallen into another writer’s block 🥲 The last couple of weeks have been me making incremental progress while also trying to refill my cups.

I really hoped I could finish it this month because I’m already planning on doing camp nanowrimo in July to FINALLY finish the draft for the dreamers AU that has also been in the works for over a year now. And tbh that’s the story that I’m now daydreaming about as I start to get myself back into the writing zone. So I think I just gotta Trust The Process on this one and strike the iron where it’s hot for now, because at least I can point to my experience last year and give credit to my fics Closest & Flourishing for giving me the needed momentum to finally get WTDF Ch 4 over the finish line (followed by a streak of productivity that lasted me pretty much up until this point!)

So while I’m sorry that this means WTDF Ch 8 is gonna continue to be delayed a bit longer, I also think it’ll be worth it in the end when I have both these projects finished and I’m feeling good about the direction the inspiration is taking them. FWIW a lot of the ideas & themes I’m thinking about for the dreamers AU—such as prolonged periods of transition, coming of age, and the liminal qualities of queerness & gender identity—they are helping ideas coalesce in my approach to WTDF Ch 8, which, as I may have mentioned before, is a treatment of the Skyros arc. It’s actually fitting that I’m working on these projects both at the same time because I think they’re actively making one another better, which means I’m getting even more excited to complete & share them! The dreamers AU seems likely to be split into two parts at this point, so it makes sense to me to sandwich the WTDF update in between those. I can never really make concrete promises about my publishing schedule anymore, but for now at least, that’s the plan.

Anyways sorry for the longwinded & possibly boring explanation/list of excuses. But I appreciate your ask, it means a lot to know that people care 🥹🙏 Thank you everyone for their patience so far!!! I know I’m slow haha but everyone has been nothing but kind & understanding about it <3

You have a wonderful day as well ❤️

[transpoettryinghisbest]

Who wants some Desmitri? Just trying something new lol. This is early in their relationship. Also Aurora is alive because fuck you. Trigger warnings are in the tags.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. 

I curl up into a ball, trying to ground myself by feeling my weight against the mattress, the blankets around my shoulders and over my feet. I squeeze my bear plushie tighter against my chest. My breathing is the only sound I can make out, aside from some distant chatter.

BANG.

I feel myself flinch.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. 

Logically, I know they’re just fireworks. Completely harmless to me, as I’m tucked up warm inside. But they still have some kind of effect on me that I can’t quite place. I just know that I hate it. And I hate that I hate it. I wish I could just be normal and enjoy Bonfire Night like anyone else.

But it keeps bringing me back to that memory.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. 

“DiDi are you not coming downstairs?”

“Huh? Uh…no.”

Aurora’s at my door. I didn't hear her coming. She’s the adoptive daughter of my new partner. She’s a bit of an oddball, even coming from someone like me, but she’s sweet and she seems to accept me.

“But Grandpa Ray made soup! And this spiced cake thing, I forget what it’s called.”

“Parkin?”

“That’s it! He says it’s traditional to have it on Bonfire Night. Then we’re going to burn a doll of this evil man from history. But Dad says if you're coming outside you should wrap up warm.”

“Mm hm.”

I’m vaguely familiar with the history of Guy Fawkes and this holiday, having lived in England for most of my life, but Aurora’s fairly new to all of this. It’s sweet watching her learn and retain things, but I can’t really focus on what she’s saying, I’m so on edge anticipating the next bang.

“Are you okay?” she asks me.

I nod.

“You look frightened, DiDi.”

“I’m-”

BANG.

I flinch. Aurora seems unfazed.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. 

“Oh, are you scared of the fireworks?”

I want to deny it, but I don’t think I’ll be able to convincingly. I just nod, trying to slow my breathing back down to normal.

“Oh that’s why Dad didn't buy any. He bought sparklers. They don’t make any noise. But he said we can still watch the neighbours’ fireworks.”

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. 

“DiDi, the fireworks won’t hurt you. Dad says they’re pretty explosions in the sky hundreds of feet away. They’re meant to be fun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.”

BANG.

I flinch, letting out a little whimper.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. 

“Do you want me to get Dad?” Aurora asks.

I nod.

“Okay. Stay here. I won’t be long.”

She goes downstairs and I stay put, trying to regulate my breathing and ground myself.

I don’t know if what I’m having are flashbacks, it feels more like just constant repeated bad memories and a sense of unease. Every time I hear a bang, I get this impending feeling of doom, like someone I love is going to die again. That I’ll be helpless to stop it, and I’ll be left alone in the world, sobbing on the ground.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe.

“Love, are you alright?”

Desmond is here. His voice is very soft and calming. I smile, mostly out of relief.

“Aurora told me you were having a hard time.”

I nod.

“It’s alright, I’m here.”

He sits next to me on the bed and I instinctively nestle into him.

I’m glad he’s Desmond today. Descole is hot and funny and interesting and cool. But Desmond…he makes me feel safe.

My partner switches back and forth sometimes. Not in a dissociative identity disorder way, moreso…he’s playing roles. They help him express how he’s feeling and what kind of environment he’s in. He’s Desmond a lot of the time he’s around Aurora and in professional settings, but he’s Descole on dates or…when things get bad. Descole allows himself to feel things much deeper than Desmond does.

Both are better suited to different environments, but I love them both equally. They’re two halves of a whole man whom I fell in love with.

BANG.

I flinch against him. He gently strokes me, making a shushing sound.

“You’re safe, Dimitri.”

I’m safe. Everyone’s safe.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe.

“I didn't think it would be this bad,” Desmond says. “I’m sorry I wasn't more prepared.”

“It’s alright.”

“I wish there was something I could do. Perhaps some noise cancelling headphones would help.”

“I… No.”

Something about the idea of explosions going on around me and not being able to hear them scares me even more than this. The idea that someone could just disappear without me knowing.

“No, you're right. An avoidant strategy may not be ideal.”

If I thought running away would help, I’d have left the country for the weekend. I feel stuck in this place, unable to do anything until the night ends, so frightened of something that I’m not entirely sure what that something is anymore.

BANG.

I flinch. Desmond holds me tighter, telling me once again that I’m okay.

I’m okay. No one’s dying. Everyone’s safe. 

“Do you want to talk?” he asks me.

I shake my head.

“Alright. Well I’m here if you change your mind.”

“I love you.”

I said that instinctively, in case this is the last time I’ll ever see him. Even though I know it won’t be. I can’t help but be scared of losing someone else. And I know he feels the same.

“I love you too. I promise you will be alright.”

The one thing that Desmond and Descole have in common, is that they both have a deep sadness within them. Maybe that’s part of what attracted me to him in the first place, the idea that I don’t have to hide anything from him or pretend to be okay. We’re both broken souls. But we found each other. Somehow.

BANG.

I think I flinch less that time. My mantra isn’t really helping, but holding onto Desmond is. He feels so sturdy and real, which helps me from getting lost in my head. I put my plush bear down and wrap my arms around Desmond instead. He kisses my forehead.

“Perhaps looking at the fireworks would help? So that you can be more aware of what the noises are and that they’re not going to hurt anyone.”

That sounds logical, Desmond usually is, but something is stopping me from doing so. I keep my forehead resting against his chest, feeling his chest go up and down with his gentle breaths.

BANG.

I cling tighter.

“That one was blue,” Desmond says. “Quite pretty. I wonder which metal they added to the gunpowder to make that particular colour.”

I'm crying now. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I miss Claire. Maybe because I hate feeling like this. Or maybe because I finally feel safe enough to do so. Desmond's shirt becomes slightly damp from my tears, but he doesn't react in a huge way, just continues to stroke my back.

Maybe one day I'll tell him about Claire. Maybe.

There's a soft knock at the door.

“Grandpa Ray says he's left the soup on the stove if anyone wants some. But no pressure.” 

“Alright, thank you, Aurora.” 

“DiDi, I made you tea. Because you're upset. Was…that the right thing to do?” 

“It is customary to ask first,” Desmond says.

I take the tea. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Offering tea as a sign of compassion is a very British thing, and given that Desmond is very British, I'm not surprised Aurora picked that trait up from her father. I take a sip. The warmth is comforting.

“I think I'm gonna stay inside tonight,” Aurora says. “It's cold out. Can we have a movie night?” 

“What do you say, love?” Desmond asks me. 

“Uh…okay. Just nothing with…loud noises.”

“Okay! I’ll go get my collection and we can pick one. Dad, can we have popcorn?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

The fireworks continue well into the night, but snuggled up to Desmond and Aurora, watching a cringy but wholesome film about ponies, I feel safe. Halfway through the film, Aurora falls asleep leaning against me. I cautiously stroke her hair.

I may never get back what I felt for Claire. I still don’t even fully understand what that feeling was. But that’s okay. I know who I am now. And this strange little family loves me with no complications. And I love them back.

[lidiasloca]

a crush on azriel

azriel x reader

PART TWO

next part

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You find yourself in what could be a dream of yours – or a nightmare; seated next to Azriel on a couch. You try to excuse the silence with the knowledge that the male is not very fond of talking.  

Still, you try to will your lips to move, no matter how much they tremble. “How are you?”  

He directs his eyes to you, and though you know it’s not his intention, the intensity in them pins you in place - leaves you breathless. How could someone have such control over you?  

When you come back to the present, you can find a glint of playfulness in his eyes. “How am I?” he asks.  

Was it the wrong question to ask? Gods - you should just keep quiet until the rest of the Inner Circle appears. You had given up on waiting for Nyx; you know he is delaying himself. Feyre and Rhys had already greeted you and were by the fireplace, and the rest were late.  

The thing is - when you are nervous, you can’t keep quiet for too long. Nyx for sure knew that when he sent you off with Azriel.  

“Yes?” you reply, unsure.  

To your surprise, it makes him chuckle - it is light and soft, but you cannot feel anything less than overjoyed at the sound of it. A sound you’ve caused.  

“Well, I am fine. How are you, Y/N?”  

Did he know the effect it had on you when he said your name so easily - like every vowel was meant to be spoken out of his mouth? If he knew, he was very good at playing with you.  

“I’m fine. Well - a bit nervous, but fine.”  

“Nervous?” he asks, surprised, grabbing your full attention. “What for?”  

You. No - think of something else, Y/N. “It’s my first time here. New people, new place… I get nervous easily.”  

“Mmmmm…” and then he’s silent.  

And you decide to roll with it. He’s not a talkative guy, so you aren’t either tonight. Yes, it’s decided.  

But then: “I also get nervous. Sometimes.”  

You force your jaw not to drop at his simple confession. Alright, you have to say something. Come on, say something!  

“I never would have guessed.”  

He smiles at you, analyzing your face and what probably is a blush on your cheeks. “Why’s that?”  

“I just... you don’t look… shy, I guess.”  

“Mmmmm. How do I look?”  

Had you sipped from your cup, you would have spat the wine onto him. “How do you look?” you repeat, surprised. Was it your delusional heart, or was he flirting? You truly need your friend Nyx to talk some sense into you.  

“Yes. I’m curious how you see me.”  

He is really honest about this, and you just have to laugh.  

“Don’t laugh,” he smiles. “I’m serious. Well, not anymore if you are going to take this as a joke.”  

“No, no,” you mumble in between laughs. “I’m taking this seriously. I am.”  

“No, you are not. And so I’m going to leave you to your fun as I serve myself another cup,” he says as he sits upright.  

“No,” you quickly say. “Don’t go.” Too desperate - you have to fix it. “I will tell you how I see you.”  

Now he’s interested. He sits back again, and it makes you think if he was just pretending to leave. It makes you wonder if he knows about the control he has over you.  

You suddenly have an idea. “Well, no - let me tell you later. I am going to find Nyx, alright? You go for that wine.”  

Checkmate.  

His eyes swim with mischief and curiosity. Since he seems to have nothing to say, you give him a tight nod goodbye as you get up and go search for your friend.  

“Nyx?” you ask tremulously once you reach the hallway. No matter how brave you had acted, you were a nervous little thing right now.  

“Here,” he calls from his room. You start walking to it when suddenly a warm hand takes you by the arm. You swallow a shout, only relaxing when you turn to Azriel.  

“Sorry. Didn’t want to frighten you.” You watch between his face and his hand, confusion clear on your face. He finally lets go.  

“What is it?” you ask, not sure of what else to say.  

“Nothing. Nothing.” He tries to walk away, but you stop him.  

“Azriel, what?”  

“I just had an idea.” Your brows furrow, waiting for him to continue. “It’s stupid.”  

“Tell me,” you whisper, as if it were a secret conversation - it felt like one.  

“Well - since you were nervous - and I am as well - maybe we could go somewhere else.”  

You have to be dreaming. You have to.  

“What - what are you nervous for?”  

He shakes his head with a shy smile on. “That - no. That’s not what matters.” You don’t argue with him, content with your own assumptions as to why he is nervous at a family dinner. “Well…” he starts timidly. “What do you think?”  

“I think yes,” you reply before you can think of a smart answer.  

His smile is nothing short of genuine joy. “Take my hand.”  

A dream. 

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

@username199945

@going-through-shit

[thelasttime]

hi Madie, Valentine Heart 💝 anon here!

my feelings about this whole situation(ship???) with him has been fluctuating, especially since TTPD came out (and it’s been helping me process by just having the songs on repeat literally all the time hahaha)

usually i’m on the sadness/depression stage, but i also just feel a lot of anger too, but then i start thinking too much and i start convincing myself that i’m the one in the wrong even though he did everything first and started backing off when i tried making a move first??? even though i’ve never refused him and reciprocated when he would do it?? idk.

feel free to shake some sense into me though and say i’m wrong because i’m willing to face that! but idk. it feels like i’ve been playing a game i didn’t fully comprehend i was in until it was too late and now that i’m aware the rules have suddenly changed?? or like the game never existed in the first place??? idk if that makes sense. but i just feel like i’ve been played, basically. and that really upsets me.

i wish he would’ve been clear and just spelled things out for me when he had the chance. but should i have done that too?

either way i am just trying to keep moving forward no matter how painful it gets, and it gets pretty painful sometimes in the most unexpected moments. but hopefully that will go away eventually and i get to start living life again like before all this happened

hi bestie you are very wrong and i am sorry to say that you are overthinking this one a little bit. very okay to ponder on what's happened but try to avoid changing the plot and changing the blame on yourself (which is, by the way, very relatable). you did your very best and it's ON HIM!!! for making all of these moves and not following up on them like a little rat!! a good person would've been clear with their motives and their actions, not playing this wishy-washy game that he's been playing. i fear it's very .. "cold as you"

be kind to yourself!!!!

[yoongis-black-grilfriend]

Oh em geeee if you do a drama part 3 can you respond to it here or tag me in it pleaseee. Also if you have a tag list can you add me? 💗

Drama 3

Here you go love <3

If you haven't done so yet, click here to read part 1 and part 2

Warnings: Cursing, Toxicity, & Angst

Summary: Part 3 of DRAMA, You and Jack are dating but your relationship isn't public and someone from his past starts drama between the two of you; Jack confronts about fighting Katie at the party...

Finally! 

You literally knew he was going to find out about this so why were you stuck in your tracks? Why couldn’t you find the words to say?

Jack stood up from his chair and walked toward you. 

“Huh you have nothing to say now but you had so much to say when you were feeding me that bullshit this morning. Don’t even worry about it, I'm not trippin” the tone he used was mocking your tone of voice.

Lowkey wanting to go off on him, he still continued on with his rant. 

“I know what she did was wrong fucked up even but do you even realize what you did? Everyone knows we're together now, they all know what you look like!” 

What he was saying was making sense but a part of you disagreed. He took his career very seriously (as he should) but you don't like how he tried to lock you away over a choice he made. Then again he made it very clear what could happen if you guys got together but this stuff with Katie was not something you were expecting at all and you have finally reached your breaking point. 

 “Oh so that’s what this is about?”, your just worried that I'm not your dirty little secret anymore? Are you sad that you don’t have to keep me locked in hotel rooms while you go out and have the time of your life waiting for you to get back just so the cycle can repeat the next day?”

He is now facing, your noses keep brushing against each other and you can feel his minty breath on your lips. His eyes soften slightly.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole at all but this industry is brutal I have gone through so much to get where I am right now and all I have is people watching my every move analyzing how I talk, what I talk about, who I talk about those things with and I'm going to be completely honest with you it is draining the hell out of me, having people assume what I’m really like when they haven’t even meet me and having my every move watched by someone waiting for me to fuck up is sucking the life out of me.” 

He took a deep breath and felt a couple of tears fall from his eyes. 

“I could never forgive myself if you had to go through what I had to go through because I know it would be because of me.” His hands cup your cheeks and he wipes away a few tears that fall from your face.

“I envy you, you are a regular person you have goals and dreams that have nothing to do with being famous or super rich you just want a regular life and I adore that about you, you make me feel normal I know it sounds like I’m hyping myself up when I say this but I am a celebrity some people hardly see me as a person but you make me feel regular person again and you give me a sense of peace in this hectic world I’m living in right now.” 

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and finishes saying “ No one knows you like I do and I don’t know what I would do if I saw thousands of people trying to tear down the love of my life. They have already tried to do it starting with recording you beating Katie's ass” he chuckled. 

Wow, he had really just revealed a lot to you. You can agree with the fact that his popularity could overwhelm you sometimes and that you love to be in your little shell with just him. So were you really ready to break this shell and showcase your relationship to the whole world? Hell no.

“I see what you're saying and I'm sorry for potentially embarrassing you” He shook his head disagreeing with you “You could never embarrass me, baby, I see where you coming from and I’m sorry for what I said earlier we just have to establish that there is a place and a time for things like this and my time is the legal way.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows you tilt your head in confusion “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He let out a smirk and dropped his hands from your face to go to your living room table. “Every girl I have slept with has signed an NDA which basically states what happened between us stays between us and Katie did not follow through with that agreement so I'm taking her to court.”

You wanted to feel bad but you didn't. She was doing way too much just for Jack to sue her trifling ass.  

“I also am getting that video off the face of this earth just so it doesn't get further out there the only people that have the video were the people at the party which is a good thing because my team is contacting everyone as we speak so this video doesn’t end up somewhere it shouldn't be.” 

Walking back over to you he grabs your hand and leads you to the couch and takes your shoes off laying your feet across his lap. Taking one of your white painted feet he starts to message them. 

“It’s up to you to decide whether or not you want the world to know about our relationship. I'm with whatever you're with, pretty girl.”

You thought about it long and hard and seeing things from Jack’s point of view you were not ready to step all the way into his world. But you're okay with being all the way into his heart for now <3. 

OMG this is the last part of this series please let me know any questions, comments and concerns. And you can also request :)

[primofate]

Breaking up Part 2 Albedo x gn!reader

Sorry it took so long! Haha. Yeah tumblr effed over for me. But here it is! :D

Scenario: Breaking up and getting back together again

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst? NOT PROOFREAD

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read:  (Part 1) (Part 3 - Final)

“Sucrose... Do you know where Y/N went?”

5 days 3 hours and 12 minutes. He’d been counting. He’d been counting since you left. It was only today that he had the courage to ask Sucrose about it. 

Sucrose jumps at the sudden call of her name. 

Albedo had not been the same. The frequent mistakes in the lab proved it. The constant slips of the hand and test tubes shattering on the floor told Sucrose that perhaps that was how his heart looked like too.

“...No, I don’t,” Sucrose simply says, then lets the silence of the lab fill the air. Only the bubbles from their experiments hanging. It was still for a moment, Sucrose going back to her calculations and research. Albedo sat in front of his alchemy set, blankly staring at it.

He doesn’t even understand what being “tired” feels like anymore. He hasn’t had a decent sleep. Every small movement in the house, every whisper of the wind he would bolt up in bed, thinking it was you coming in from the front door. Sometimes he would hear someone shuffling, he would stop and listen for you, but then realizes that the sound was the sound of his legs under the covers, trying to keep warm without you around. 

Sucrose glances up at her mentor. He’s buried his face in his hands, his hair in slight disarray. She knew what was going to happen next. He was going to stand up and just walk away from the lab, and Sucrose was not going to see him until tomorrow again. 

Tomorrow, the cycle would repeat. 

Albedo couldn’t function. It was pathetic. He really thought that he must be such a sight right now, eyes heavy with exhaustion, hair down and clothes a little unruly. He ran away from the lab again. He abandoned his “important” experiment and went back home, retreating in his room, falling on his knees and slumping on the bed in front of him.

He buried his face into his arms and tried to piece his heart back together.

“Albedo, will you ever get tired of me?”

There was a soft hint of a frown on your face. Silly you, Albedo thought. Always worried about being apart from him. He only smiles and cups your chin in his hand, leans in close to press his forehead against yours to whisper, “Never,” 

His fists clutch at the bedsheets, the fabric scrunching up under his hands. Every.damn.time. he tried to take a break, he would be reminded of you. Every thing reminded him of you. Breathing reminded him of you. It was as if you were right beside him and yet you weren’t. 

It was him. He was supposed to be the one asking “Y/N, will you ever get tired of me?” He was supposed to be the one worried. But he hadn’t been because he had taken you for granted. He thought that you’d always just be there, waiting for him patiently as you always had but now that he was alone, he realized just how lonely this silence could be.

“You must have been lonely...waiting here for me in this silence...”

His voice was muffled by the sheets, and he didn’t know who he was talking to. He did that a lot these days. Saying things that he wished you could still hear. 

The next day, just as Sucrose predicted. It was the same. Halfway through his experiment Albedo stopped, and stared at nothing in particular. She wondered if, whenever he did that, he remembered the things he said to you that day. 

But, just as Sucrose thinks today would end up the same...

it didn’t.

“Big brother Albedo!” Klee stormed into the lab, the door slamming open really loud. “Oh...I’m sorry, I didn’t check the sign... I...” Klee stepped out to look at the door sign and found ��KEEP OUT” still there. “Oh no...! I did a mistake! Sorry big brother,” the little girl fumbled with her fingers and swung from side to side to show her apology. 

A hint of a smile appears on Albedo’s face and Sucrose was thunderstruck. There had been no expression on the Kreideprinz’s face for the longest time that the smile had felt so foreign. “It’s alright, Klee. Do you need help with something?” and his voice wasn’t hoarse. If there was anything that could cheer him up, it would be Klee.

He was done prioritizing his research over the people that really mattered. 

“Look what I got! I’ve never seen such a pretty flower in Mondstadt before,” Klee showed off the blue flower to Albedo, eyes shining and wide. Albedo touched the petals as Klee held it up for him. “Ah, yes, Glaze Lilies. You can only find them in Liyue, Klee,” Albedo explains. Klee bounces excitedly.

“Ohhhh! That’s amazing! Y/N must have travelled there recently!” 

The silence in the lab was deafening. Albedo’s hand drops from the flower as he looks at Klee, confused. Sucrose had stopped what she was doing, wide-eyed, staring at the young bomber. “...What do you mean, Klee?” Albedo whispered out. 

Hearing your name said by someone else made it all the more real that you weren’t here with him anymore. 

“Oh! See, Klee was in Windrise and... I was looking at the fishes...” Klee gasped a little, “Please don’t tell Master Jean!” she whispered pointedly but continued. “I saw Y/N there, and Y/N gave me a really big hug and gave me this Guh lays Lily,” the young girl got the name wrong, but Albedo hadn’t been listening anymore. He stood up and crouched down to eye level with Klee, hands on her shoulders.  “W-When, Klee?” he clears his throat and tries again, “When did this happen?” Sucrose had also been listening and watching in bated breath.  Klee gave one of her biggest, most innocent smiles, not knowing how crucial this information had been to Albedo. “Just now! I just came back from Windrise!” 

Albedo didn’t feel the slightest sorry that he bolted out of the lab without explaining to Klee. She would understand and Surcrose was there. He sprinted towards the gates of Mondstadt like his life depended on it. In some senses, it really did.

I can make it.

He was panting hard. His footsteps thundering in his ears. His breath coming in quick ins and outs. His heart is about to fly off its cage.

I can make it. It’s just outside of Mondstadt. 

Wind rushes past him, the pigeons on the bridge outside of Mondstadt, disturbed, flying away in a frenzy. Timmie shouting after him. 

Please be there. Please.

It takes him longer than he wanted. He wanted to be faster, wanted to be there already but he was still running. Still chasing after that hope. The adrenaline he feels pumps in his veins and yet he is so out of breath that he needs to stop. His hands resting on his knees as he closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing even. 

I have to keep going.

His legs were killing him. They were strained by the sudden rush of exercise and yet he still drags both towards Windrise. He could see the large tree at the horizon, but he was too far away to see if you were there. He continues to pant, steadying his breath, preparing for another burst of energy to run towards where he so desperately hoped you were.  What if you weren’t there anymore?

What if he was too late?

What if he never saw you again?

“What if it doesn’t work...?” Albedo asks, pondering over the research and discussing it with you over dinner. He loved to talk about his experiments with you because you gave valuable insights on it, and really listened to him. You smile and give him the confidence that he needs, “Then you can try again, Bedo. You always find a way!”

He’s still panting by the time he reaches the steps leading up to the large tree. His eyes dart around. He circles around in place, wondering if you were around the area. He continues forward, stepping up to the big roots and yet again looked around, trying to spot your familiar tuft of hair/colour. 

At the corner of his eye he spots something, behind the big tree. A Crystalfly. It was flying away and his eyes automatically follow it. There was a hand trying to reach out for it, but it barely grazed the Crystalfly’s wings. You stepped out from behind the tree, a little annoyed that you couldn’t catch the Crystalfly. 

Albedo feels like he’s frozen in time. He stands there and watches the wind caress your hair. Watches as you tuck your hair back behind your ear. Watches as you turn around and start walking away. He snaps back to reality and moves forward, roots and sticks cracking under his feet as he struggles through the root laden path just to get near you. 

You, hearing the disturbance from behind, turn around and was met face to face with the lover you left a few days ago. Something shatters inside you. You weren’t ready for this. You were far from ready to see him again. Why was he out here in the middle of the day? You stood still just as he did in front of you. 

You notice how his hair is sticking to his face with sweat. The fast rise and fall of his chest. The pained look in his eyes. The closed up fists on his side. “Y/N--” his voice cracks and tears start to pool in your eyes. 

You aren’t strong enough for this and you start to turn away.

Albedo rushes forward to trap you in a hug. His arms so desperately wrapped around you as his head rests on your shoulder. “Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t go. Come back with me, please,” there’s a different type of hopelessness in his voice. A moment later tears are streaming down your face. 

“I-I can’t Albedo. I--” can’t put myself through that again. I can’t and don’t want to be alone at home all the time. 

His body shakes and you realize it’s a sob that wracks his body. Your shoulder is slightly wet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please.” You’ve never seen him cry. Not like this. Not as he clings to you and admits defeat. “I...I couldn’t take care of you--It’s my fault. I know, but--”

“I like Windrise. It’s very relaxing.” You say as the two of you walk around the tree, collecting materials. “Is it?” Albedo responds, stopping momentarily to look up at the tree. “You don’t think so?” you curiously ask your lover. He ponders for a moment before smiling, “I think coming home to you is a lot more relaxing,” at the early stages of your relationship hearing something like that from him would cause you to blush.

You pry his arms away and look up at him. His head is dipped low and you can’t see his face clearly, concealed by his hair. You brush his hair away and lift his head up, and you see how streaks of tears run down his cheeks. You see the sleepless nights in his eyes. The hurt that creases on his forehead. You see what your absence has done to him, and all in one moment, you think that perhaps you were too harsh on him. That you should’ve talked it out instead of leaving so abruptly but you-- “I was hurt...” your lips tremble as you try to explain. 

“I try, really hard, to make things easier for you. To care about you. I have never asked for anything grand.” You’re surprised at how level your voice is, despite feeling like you might break down just as he does. 

“I’m aware,” Albedo wipes at his face, frustrated at himself. His tears have stopped. You were talking. That must be a good sign. “I don’t--Don’t deserve you,” but he steels himself and places his hands on your cheeks. God how long had it been since he touched you like this? and wipes away the tears that were silently falling from your eyes. “But I’ll take care of you. I’ll prove your worth. I... won’t make the same mistake again,” 

And when Albedo said or promised something he was one of the few people that you believed in the most. He was trustworthy all the way, and was true to most of what he said. “You have my word... and if I do make the same error again then... Then you can leave. But right now I--” he moves to rest his forehead against yours, taking in the warmth and love that he had missed. “I’m asking for another chance,” he gulps. “Please,”

You stay quiet for a moment. Assessing the situation. But your eyes close at the closeness the two of you are in right now. There was no doubt that you still loved him. A few days would not change anything. A few days would not ruin the years that you spent together. But you were scared and guarded. You weren’t sure what would happen and if it was worth it. You were scared of being with him and being lonely. “...We... should talk and think a little bit more about this...” you conclude and give your answer, stepping away from him.

Albedo’s face grimaces in distraught, but turns into confusion when you take his hand and tugs on it slightly. “...At home, we can talk about this at home...Is that okay? Let’s go back first,” you would figure it out with him from there.

His head drops and he tries hard not to let tears escape again. He really didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve this kindness but he sure as hell would take it. He would take it and make it right again. He picks his head up and squeezes your hand, voice slightly soft and trembling, and smiles.

“Thank you. That’s perfect,” 

and with his hand tight on yours, because he wasn’t letting you go again, the two of you make your way back.

Should I make a part 3 with fluff and write about the aftermath and how Albedo made it up to you? Let me know :D Message me :D Love me <3

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[slytherweasley]

Smutober/Kinktober- sex dream (Ron Weasley x reader)

Warnings: oral, penetration

“Fuck Ron, i need you” you whisper in his ear “How do you want it?” “Take me right here, in the kitchen.” You start to discard your clothes until you’re in your underwear. He picks you up putting you on the counter and slides off your underwear.

Ron attacks your clit with his lips sucking desperately and licking up and down. His fingers move inside you pounding into you. “Shit, feels amazing” you praise him “Ron, I’ve wanted this for the longest time” “Me too.”

He adds another finger inside you, stretching you out in order to prepare you for his dick. “Fuck” you yell “I’m close” you moan and he feels you pulse around his fingers as you finish.

You help him out of his pants, his dick already hard, he feels the pleasure as he moves inside you, you’re tight around him. “Feels so good” he says “We should’ve done this years ago” you moan “We really should have.”

Ron pounds into you using every ounce of strength he has left. “Shit I’m close” you moan “Me too, so close.”

Ron mumbles and moans in his sleep, he woke you up after tossing and turning in his sleep. You thought it was a nightmare. “y/n” a moan escapes from his mouth.

You repeat his name shaking him. He opens his eyes feeling edged “Shit” he mumbles coming to the realisation that it was just a dream. “Are you okay?” “Yeah sorry I don’t know what you heard” “It’s okay, don’t apologise it happens to everyone, you shouldn’t be embarrassed” Ron felt a sense of relief. “Thanks, it’s a bit embarrassing though” “I have them almost every night, if it helps it’s sometimes about you too” Ron turns red.

“You have them about me?” “Yeah, you’re my best friend, of course I do” “Oh wow, I didn’t know that’s how you felt” “Yeah I care about you a lot.” “I’m glad you’re not mad” “You can tell me about it, I sometimes like to analyse them and find the deeper meaning behind it all” Ron was confused, was he in another dream? He can’t be, this feels real.

“I guess I can tell you, it might be awkward” “It’s okay, it won’t be.” “Uh well it started as normal, we were sitting down in the kitchen and you kind of came onto me” “How?” He turns bright red “Well you kind of pinned me against the counter and told me some stuff.” “Every detail counts, can you remember what i said to you?” “y/n this is so embarrassing” “No it’s not, keep going” he wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not but you looked genuinely interested.

“Well you asked if I wanted to fuck you, I said yes and you told me to take you there in the kitchen” you stop him “Hold up, what?” “Well it means you want me to fuck you in the kitchen” he explains “Oh no, what are you talking about?” “Nothing, what are you talking about?” “Well I thought we were talking about your nightmare, I think it’s the opposite of that.”

Ron hides his face with his hands “How the hell did you think I was moaning your name because it was a nightmare?” “I didn’t think you had those dreams about me.”

“This is so awkward” he refuses to look at you “Its okay” “No it’s not, it’s embarrassing” “A little but I’ve definitely dreamt about you like that before.” “Lying to me only makes things worse” “I’m not lying” “Yes you are, girls don’t dream of sex” I laugh “You are so wrong.”

“Never talk to me again” he says “It’s not that big of a deal” “Yes it is!” “I touch myself and I think about you” you admit, he looks at you for the first time. “There you go, we are even now” “No way” he says “I do, we have been friends for a long time but I’ve been doing it for a while.”

“Why?” I smile “Why do you think?” “I honestly don’t know” “I think you’re hot” Ron kisses you, you kiss him back.

“Do you actually want to fuck me? For real this time?” You ask “Yes, it’s an easy yes.” Ron undresses you, he unclips your bra massaging your breasts then takes off your underwear. “Fuck, is this actually real?” “Yes, it really is.”

You take off his shirt throwing it across the room while he takes off his pants. “I’m so ready for this” you admit “So am I.”

Ron takes off his underwear, his dick stands tall, he’s bigger than you’d expected. “Ready?” He asks “Yeah, do it.“

He pushes himself into you, he shifts his weight to his arms resting beside you. The two of you make out, moaning against each other’s lips as he pounds into you, it felt so much better than in the dream.

[blu-joons]

Your First Time Being Affectionate In Front Of Another Member ~ Stray Kids Reaction

Bang Chan:

He couldn’t hide his relief as he walked off the stage, noticing you stood in the wings waiting for him. “Hug me,” he smirked, throwing his arms tightly around you.

You did as Chan said, moving your arms tightly around his waist. “You did so well, I’m not surprised your absolutely exhausted now,” you complimented into his ear.

“Cute,” you suddenly heard a voice mumble from behind you.

Both of you looked back to see Hyunjin watching the two of you closely. “Something you want to say a little louder?” Chan grinned, noticing the blush on Hyunjin’s cheeks.

“I’ve just never seen the two of you actually hug before, it’s cute,” he repeated, offering you both a warm smile, “you look good together like this.”

Chan’s brows knitted in confusion, “what are you trying to say we look like when we’re not hugging each other?” He challenged, “what’s so different.”

“Nothing,” Hyunjin chuckled, quickly correcting his mistake. “It’s just nice to see that you’re in love now rather than just constantly hearing you just say it.”

“I don’t constantly say it, don’t lie in front of Y/N.”

Lee Know:

You knew as soon as Minho pulled you to one side what his intentions were, pinning you up against the wall. “Stop, before someone ends up spotting us both.”

Minho’s head shook, pressing one of his hands against your crimson cheeks, “we’re all alone, don’t worry about any of them, just put lipstick on my lips, please.”

“Excuse me,” a voice coughed as soon as you pressed a kiss to Minho.

In an instant, you pulled away as Felix tried to walk down the corridor. “There are other routes you could take to the kitchen,” Minho hissed, stepping aside for him.

“But this way is quicker,” Felix smirked, smiling forcefully as he passed you by, “and I’m too nosey to ignore the fact I saw you both sneak away too.”

Minho’s eyes rolled, sensing your frustration from beside him. “Can’t you just hurry up and go to the kitchen so we can get back to what we were doing, before being interrupted?”

“I could,” Felix whined, extending every word, “but I wouldn’t get anywhere near as much satisfaction from winding you up if I went now.”

“Your impossible, do you know that? And everyone says your harmless.”

Changbin:

His hands grabbed onto you as soon as the door opened, knowing how tempted you’d be to run away. “Oh, hello?” Jisung smiled as he walked into the room.

Your eyes sent Changbin a glare, far too strong for you to get away from. “Don’t mind us,” Changbin smiled, pulling you back tightly against your chest.

“Don’t worry, I’m not stopping,” Jisung informed you both.

You buried yourself into Changbin’s chest, feeling his head rest against yours. “Don’t feel like you have to leave for us, we don’t mind you sticking around.”

“No, you guys look cute, I don’t want to disturb any moments,” Jisung quickly assured you both, grabbing what he wanted from around the room.

Whilst you remained hidden, Changbin spoke up once again, “the other members aren’t hiding out are they, because we’re here instead?”

“No,” Jisung chuckled, “they’re doing…well, whatever they’re doing. So, Y/N, you don’t have to get so red next time too, we honestly don’t mind you both.”

“See, I told you there was no reason to get embarrassed.”

Hyunjin:

A hand grabbed onto you, pulling you into the corridor of the dorm where a bit of privacy could be had. “Why don’t you stay the night, we can be quiet, right?”

Just as Hyunjin finished speaking, a bright light caught your eye, causing you to flinch into Hyunjin’s chest. “What the hell was that?” You questioned, covering your face.

“Shoot,” you heard a voice mutter, looking to see where it came from.

As Hyunjin noticed Jeongin stood staring at you both, he knew exactly what had happened. “Were you sneaking up on the two of us and taking photos?”

“Maybe,” Jeongin smirked, placing his phone away. “I wanted to prove to the boys how cute you were, but then the flash went off and ruined it.”

You grabbed onto Hyunjin’s hand to stop him approaching Jeongin. “You know, you could just tell them we’re cute rather than having to take a photo.”

“It was too good of an opportunity,” Jeongin argued, “no one’s ever really seen the two of you together before, and I wanted to use it against the others too.”

“So, you’re using our relationship as a bribe. I see how it is.”

Han:

Your eyes widened at the sound of the main door to the dorm opening, noticing Seungmin walking in. “Sorry, I thought everyone was in their rooms.”

You desperately tried to roll away from Jisung, but his arms stayed around your waist. “We just thought we’d make the most of the big sofa without anyone around.”

“I’ll leave you to two it in a minute then,” Seungmin smiled.

You finally relaxed as he walked into the kitchen to grab himself a drink. “Your members don’t want to see us being all cuddly, I thought we always agreed on that?”

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Seungmin called out from the kitchen, only leaving you more embarrassed. “We all adore how close the two of you are anyway.”

A groan escaped as Seungmin walked back into the room, “still, this is your home, I’ll make sure to be more respectful, even if Jisung decides otherwise.”

“He’s always rubbed your relationship in our faces, I don’t think you’ll be able to change that about him any time soon,” Seungmin teased.

“Give me time, I know his weaknesses remember.”

Felix:

As soon as the group were called, Felix pulled you up to your feet so that he could hug you tightly. “Congratulations,” you quickly whispered before having to let him go.

With the band already on their way to the stage, Chan hung back, throwing his arm around Felix. “Y/N’s a great girl, your really lucky to have her support.”

“Where’s this suddenly come from?” Felix quietly responded.

Chan’s eyes flickered back to you momentarily, noticing you sat back down. “I saw the way you hugged her in amongst all of the chaos, you’ve never been like that.”

“She’s great,” Felix agreed, turning back to look at you too. “I couldn’t help myself; it was just first instinct to grab onto her and celebrate too.”

Chan smiled across to his best friend, “I think that should tell you a lot about how you feel about her and how important she is to your life too.”

“I’m sure there were plenty of cameras around to catch the moment too,” Felix sighed, unable to completely let himself go with excitement.

“Don’t worry about it, sometimes life is too important to worry.”

Seungmin:

Your eyes rolled as Seungmin stepped towards you, glancing into the living room before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I saw that! A voice yelled, however.

Seungmin turned first, noticing Changbin’s face peering just around the wall at you both. “Can I not even get a moment to myself in this place without someone there?”

“I just knew you’d kiss her,” Changbin excitedly responded.

You hit gently against Seungmin’s chest, “I thought you assured me that no one would be around to see the two of us, let alone in a situation such as this.”

“No one was supposed to be around,” Seungmin argued, only for Changbin to poke his tongue out at him. “But some people just can’t help themselves.”

Changbin continued to stare back innocently, “I just wanted to be the first to see the two of you and tell you what a cute couple you make with one another.”

“Is this your way of an apology?” Seungmin questioned, “or are you going to let me get to say goodbye to Y/N properly before she heads home.”

“I’ll leave you alone, it’ll be like I was never here.”

I.N:

A shy smile appeared on Jeongin’s face as you walked into their dressing room, “I’m glad you could make it,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes instantly locked with Minho who was stood just to the side. “Why are you smiling so wide?” You asked him as Jeongin pulled away, looking for himself.

“You look creepy,” Jeongin teased when he saw his wide grin.

Minho’s eyes flickered between the two of you, “I just enjoy seeing how in love you both are, and how comfortable you are to finally be affectionate with one another.”

“That’s why your smiling,” Jeongin groaned, pushing his elder against the arm. “I thought something really good had happened or something.

Minho looked wide eyed back across at him, “something good has just happened, the two of you. I don’t think I’ve said it before, but I’m really happy for you both.”

“Something about this doesn’t feel right,” you chuckled, glancing suspiciously at Minho. “Your never normally this nice, especially to me.”

“People change Y/N, especially at the sight of love.”

---

Masterlist

[jungkxook]

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

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

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

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

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

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

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

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

This night isn’t any different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thanks.”

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

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

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

“She said she’s not interested.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

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

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

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

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

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

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

“You have? Who told you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N!”

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

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

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

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

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

That night you can hardly sleep.

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

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

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

“You again?” You ask humorously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The days pass in a very typical blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

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

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

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

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

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

“They would never be able to catch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How does that make you feel?”

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

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

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

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I show you something?”

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

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, if you insist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

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

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

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

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

“No.”

“What?”

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

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

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

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

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

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

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Red and blue.

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

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

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Spider-Man is cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

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

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

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

“I’m listening.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

“Like this?” You gasp.

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

“Tell me,” You breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that,” he chuckles.

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

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

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

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

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[whatissleepeven]

Okay so imagine the brothers are offered back their divinity if they kill the MC. How would they react? (Oh or for more angst- get back Lilith in exchange for MC’s life?)

Ohohoho, is this angst hour I sense? Thank you for this ask, and I’m...sorry in advance for the heavy feelings-

(Me: Okay angst time, time to play the appropriate song

*begins playing Spiderman Pizza Delivery Theme*

Me: let’s begin)

Trigger Warnings: Panic Attack (Beel’s Prompt), PTSD Symptoms (Also Beel’s Prompt), Talk of Loss

----------------------------

Obey Me! Brothers’ Reactions To An Ultimatum

Lucifer

Well, he certainly does think about it.

No, not about the divinity...but about Lilith.

They could have her back in their lives? All for the price of one human?

This human, who has caused him nothing but grief and throws themselves head-first into danger.

If this was towards the beginning of the program, he’d be more inclined to take it-

But he doesn’t.

He can’t do that to you. Not you. You, who had repaired their broken family. You, who had seen all of their flaws and strengths and passions and fears and embraced them.

You, who continues to smile so brightly and say his name with utmost faith in him.

He lowers his arm. You look fearful, but...resigned. Like it will be fine, like it was okay if he killed you.

He hates it.

“Does your life matter to you that little?”

You smile sadly, and a small portion of him wants to scream. No no no, it cries out, this isn’t how you’re supposed to be! Your smiles aren’t supposed to be full of sorrow!

“Your sister meant-...means a lot to you. To all of you. Who am I to take that away, huh?”

He walks over to you, his steps measured. You close your eyes, waiting for the killing blow-

A weight settles on your head, giving it a few rubs. “You are worth more than you could ever know. Remember that.”

He continues to walk, heading out the door. A few tears drip from your face onto the floor.

He could care less about his divinity. If he had to choose here or the Celestial Realm, he’d much rather stay here. He knows, deep in his heart, that Lilith lived a long and successful life.

You, however, are irreplaceable.

Mammon

“H-Hey...ya gotta be kidding me.”

“Well?” You grin, holding your arms out. Your stance is peaceful, like all you’re asking for is a hug. But he knows better.

Divinity and Lilith? All for killing-...

For killing you?

He hates this. He hates the look in your eyes, hates the trust you’re showing him, and hates your bleeding heart that’s just waiting to be taken for granted. Hell, it already has been taken for granted.

“What do you think you’re doin’, playin’ the hero? Wanting to sacrifice yourself? You think that’ll make us happy?!” Tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

You lower your arms, shocked. “Wha-”

You let out a small oomph as he tackles you into a hug, pulling you close.

“You’re trembling, ya idiot.” He mumbles, and you feel something wet drip onto your shirt. He’s crying, you realize. He’s crying because this hurts him.

“Mammon...I-”

He pulls back to clamp his hands down onto your shoulders. “Save it!” He barks forcefully, making you blink. “Ya really thought I’d give all this up? For something that’s already happened? I like what we got goin’ here. My brothers like this life way better than the ones we had in the Celestial Realm. Everyone’s happier lately, and it’s ‘cause of you.”

The minute trembling that ran through your body before returns in full force, tears pooling forth as you grip his shirt. He pulls you back into the hug, and you feel safe. That’s right; he’s your number one protector, the Avatar of Greed.

How could you forget that?

He grins, reaching a hand up to ruffle your hair in a playful manner. You laugh thickly, your tears still falling. “You’re stuck with the Great Mammon, and don’tcha forget it!”

Because you are his priceless treasure. Not Lilith, not some stupid divinity...

You.

Leviathan

Leviathan has always been the outcast.

His passions, his fears, his confidence...All of those are wildly different from his brothers’. He’s not as close as Beel and Belphie are, or as Lucifer and Mammon are, or as Asmo and Satan are.

He’s the black sheep of the family.

“Y-You’re leaving it up to me...?”

You nod. Oh, how he wishes this was just a run-through of an anime script. You two would spend long hours into the night reading the lines and acting them out, repeating each scene until it was done flawlessly.

But reality is far too cruel.

“It’s your family. Your story. I’m just a side character, if you will.”

Your smile is cynical. He wants nothing more than to throw his spare Ruri-chan blanket around your shoulders and force you to marathon the entire series of “I Love My Best Friend But I Get Everything Back If I Kill Them...I Have A Choice To Make!”.

He takes a step forward. Then another. “You...Why would you do that?”

You laugh, a warm sound that serves to make his stomach knot with dread.

“Because I love you guys, why else?”

Silence. He doesn’t know what to say. What’s the right thing to do? What can he do, with his small confidence?

He’s struck with a memory, of the two of you gaming in his room. He had felt terrible due to his brothers critiquing his love for anime to the point he started to berate himself for it, and you merely patted his shoulder while telling him words he’d never forget.

“There’s things only you can do, Levi. So when you start to overthink...just feel, and let your body handle the rest.”

It’s time to take you up on your advice.

“Ghk-!” You stumble as he lunges at you, the both of you toppling to the floor. He’s crying, clinging to you like a lifeline.

“I-I could never kill the Henry to my Lord of Shadows...Every Lord of Shadows only has one Henry...!!”

Leviathan has always been the outcast. He still is, but when he’s with you he feels like he belongs.

Satan

“No.”

“...Huh.” You blink at him. You’re not sure if you heard him right. Did he just-...say “no”?

“No.” He says again, his eyes narrowing. “Please tell me you’re joking about this.”

Why? Why would you throw away your life like that? For their “happiness”? Give him a break.

“What do you think you’re accomplishing by doing this?” His voice starts quiet, growing in volume as he steps towards you. You backpedal, not expecting the angered response, which only serves to fuel his fury.

“Do you think it’d make us happy? Do you think we’d jump at the chance to sacrifice you for something that’s better long forgotten? Do you really think so little of us? Well? ANSWER ME!!”

You flinch as he gets in your personal space, only to freeze when arms wrap around you and squeeze you tight.

“I was born from Lucifer’s wrath, the only bona-fide demon among my other brothers. For a long time, all I knew was anger and hate,” he whispers, stubbornly refusing to look at your shocked gaze. “I began to read to learn more, to be able to feel other emotions. But the anger and hate stayed, concealed by the thin veil I constructed to make myself more likeable. More polite. More charming.”

He wanted nothing to do with Lucifer. He wanted it so bad it hurt. So he built himself a brand-new personality, becoming someone others could rely on, all so he could spite him.

And then you came along.

Your eyes water as you realize that you feel him shaking. “I never met her, you know, but I’ve seen her through his eyes. I feel his lingering pain, and sometimes it makes me want to tear my own chest out,” he says, voice wobbling. “But to ask you to do that...to give you up for something I have no right to feel upset about...it’s something I won’t do. Ever. Not when you saved me.”

You rest your hand on his back as you return the hug, a choked sob escaping you. “Satan, I-”

“You saved me.” He whispers fervently. “Do you understand? That means everything.”

You claw the back of his shirt, your breath hitching as you succumb to your tears. You both end up falling to the floor, hugging each other like your lives depend on it.

He doesn’t need divinity he’s never had. No, not when he has you.

Asmodeus

“Oh, love...you...”

He could go back? He could go back and get his little sister back?

But if he did, then you’d-...you’d...

“I know how much you miss being the Jewel of the Heavens.” You say, sitting next to him. It’s supposed to be a quiet night, one where you both relax and take care of each other, but then this opportunity appeared and-

He...didn’t know what to do.

- No, that was a lie. He knew exactly what to do. There was only ever one option for him.

“I’m hurt.”

You look over at him, surprised. His voice is small and he’s pouting, but there’s a tremble in his bottom lip as his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I’m hurt, you know!” He repeats, and by now you’re pretty sure your mouth hangs open. “I’m hurt that you’d think so low of me!”

You scramble to explain. “Asmo, that’s not-”

“But it is!” He cries, interrupting you. “It’s exactly that! Did you think I would actually take that chance?!”

Your eyes soften. You go to place a hand on his shoulder, only to still when he slaps it away. “...Asmo.”

He throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck as he clings to you. You don’t have the heart to throw him off, wrapping your own arms around him.

“We’ve come all this way because of you.” He murmurs against you. “And you’re the only one who loves me for me. Although, my looks are definitely a strong point-”

You chuckle weakly, feeling your own tears start to fall. He smiles once he hears you, happy to know that he lifted your mood even if it was just by a little.

“-if I gave you up, these past years would have been for nothing. So, no; I won’t do it. Besides, have you seen the following I have down here? I’m on my way to becoming the Jewel of Devildom!”

You move one hand to rest on his head, a warm smile spreading across your face. You don’t notice how he looks at your expression with awe and adoration, giving his head a few pats.

“I know you can do it.”

Well. With you by his side, he can do anything.

Beelzebub

This isn’t happening. This- This can’t be happening.

Not again...not again...!

He grasps his chest and stumbles back from you, and he hears the way you call his name with worry in your voice. You sound far away, he thinks to himself. Are you already dead? Where is he? Did he fail again? Is this the Celestial War? Maybe that’s why he smells iron, hears screaming, hears himself screaming. It’ll explain the pain at least, and he would chuckle if he wasn’t too busy gasping for air.

Ah, his heart feels like it’s on fire it hurts so bad. Is it tearing itself in two? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do...he doesn’t know who to choose-

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It hurts...!

“Beel, can you hear me? Take deep breaths. Okay? Please, breathe!”

- Huh?

He feels something on his face. What is that?

Oh, this warmth...It’s almost like-

Your name falls from his lips. You sigh in relief, sitting back.

“I’m glad you’re okay. How do you feel?”

How do you feel? You just said it was okay if he chose his angel status and Lilith over you, and you’re asking him how do you feel?

He lowers his hands, frowning at you. “...Why did you ask me?”

His voice is small. Fragile. Your heart breaks at the sound of it, tears building as you see his form shake.

“Why did you ask me, when the last time I did something I murdered my sister?”

You pat his arm, reaching a hand over to give him a side hug. “Remember what Lucifer said. She wasn’t murdered; she lived happily as a human, right up until she died of old age.”

All the more reason not to do it.

He sinks into your hold. You shoulder his weight with no complaints. “I can’t do it. You’re family; I-” he swallows past the lump in his throat, tears streaming down his face. “...I love you too much.”

Because he could care less about his angel status. Because Lilith already lived her life of peace. It still hurts, but you were the one to hold his hand when he had nightmares. You were the one who saw past his intimidating form and hung out with him.

You are important, and Beelzebub will take on the Celestial Realm himself if anything happened to you.

Belphegor

...He’s quiet.

Well, it’s to be expected. He hates humanity, and it’s his younger sister we’re talking about here, not to mention how close they were.

“So?” You ask as you lean back, the wall of the planetarium supporting your weight. “I don’t mind if you choose her and your status. It’s-”

“I could give a rat’s ass about my status as an angel.” He snaps. “Just shut up for a second and listen.”

You shut your mouth. What were you gonna say to that? An angry Belphie is not a Belphie to speak lightly with.

You jolt a bit as you feel hands lightly smack against your cheeks, smooshing your face. He tugs your head so that you’re staring at him, and it’s then that you notice how his eyes waver.

“I killed you,” he says, his brows furrowing, “I killed you. And yet you’d let me choose?”

You snort, raising a hand to cover his own. “Yep. Your move, Sleeping Beauty.”

He doesn’t understand. Why would you give him that power? He had robbed you from your family when he took your life. He temporarily washed out your future.

Did you really trust him that much...?

“It tore Beel and I apart when we learned she was dead. I-...I blamed myself.” He starts, and you don’t have the heart to stop him. Not when you already made peace with your end. “I started eating less, sleeping more. I despised Lucifer, and I despised all of humanity for taking my little sister away from me.”

You remained quiet. He lets out a frustrated huff, shaking you a bit.

“And then you came. You freed me from that place, you mended what was broken, and you-...you forgave me. And I will never betray that trust; not now, and not in the future.”

He bumps his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You close yours as well, feeling the tears drip from your face and onto the floor. He’s...choosing you? Over everything he’s ever wanted?

What did you do to deserve someone like him in your life?

“So don’t you forget it, you idiot.”

[deeg9]

I'm not sure if you take Chenford request for stories..but I have always wanted something about Lucy upsetting Tim and she feels bad and apologizes by saying I didn't mean to upset you Tim

Tim stepped out of his father’s hospice room and closed the door firmly behind him. The movement was controlled. Barely. From the tension in his shoulders, Lucy was sure he would have preferred to slam it. 

He exhaled unevenly as he took two steps toward her. 

She could feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, but she was proud of him. He’d faced his abuser, twice now in one day. The person who should have shown him what unconditional love was but hadn’t. Tim wouldn’t regret it. At some point, he might look back and feel a sense of closure, but right now he was trying to shove his pain, fear and anger back behind a wall. 

“You okay?” Lucy asked. She started to reach out to touch his arm but pulled back, unsure of what he needed.

“No,” Tim looked down the hall and then back at Lucy to meet her gaze. “He was protecting her. He never did anything to protect us, but his mistress -- broke half a dozen laws for her.”

He shook his head and looked vacantly at the wall. Lucy knew old memories (very painful ones) were replaying within the confines of Tim’s mind. She wanted to comfort him but wasn’t sure how. Would he push her away if she held him?

“They picked her up. She's being processed right now.” She said and Tim’s jaw flexed. “I don't think the DA is going to prosecute your dad on his deathbed.”

“Doesn't matter,” Tim responded calmly. “He'll get judged soon enough.”

He was sad, she realized, and that must kill him. She swallowed the lump developing in her throat. For a man who prided himself on staying in control, the grief and anger must be overwhelming. 

“The Tim Tests.” Tim inhaled sharply. “Those don't make me like him.”

His voice grew raspy and the air felt thick around her. The pain in his voice ... she'd put that there. Her heart squeezed in her chest.

“I know.” Lucy searched his face and took a step forward. “You're nothing like him. I…”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment without saying anything. When Tim’s eyes grew wet, he leaned back on his heel to step away. He’d throw up another wall and she knew if he did, she’d never break through it. 

“Come here,” she reached around his neck and pulled him down to her, surprised by how willing he was to step into her embrace. He smelled like oak and musk, a scent she found familiar and comforting after riding together for the past two and a half years. She squeezed his shoulder and they rocked softly to the side. He tightened his arms around her back and it made her heart break just a little to know how much he needed this. 

 “You're nothing like him.” She repeated, unable to hide the emotion in her voice. She felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about what I said on the ride along. The Tim Tests – I didn’t mean to upset you. I would never intentionally hurt you, Tim.” 

He nodded against her shoulder. 

“I don’t think I could handle it if the Tim Tests ever made you feel the way he made me feel.” He pulled back just far enough to be able to read her expression, his hands dropping to her waist.

“Your Tim Tests made me realize that I am strong and capable,” Lucy cradled the sides of his neck, brushing her thumbs up and down. “They taught me to trust my instincts and to think outside of the box. Sure, sometimes the tests pissed me off and made me work harder to prove myself, but I’m a better cop because of you. Not in spite of you.” 

She felt some of his tension melt away under her fingertips. 

He nodded and took a step back.

“Thank you,” he motioned his hand toward the door, “for coming with me and being here. It meant a lot.” 

“Anytime,” Lucy hooked her arm through his, not quite ready to let him put physical distance between them. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a sad laugh. 

“Good, because I am starving.” She proclaimed dramatically, earning a classic Tim eye roll.

“You’re always starving,” he said. “I keep telling you to up your protein.” 

“I eat plenty of protein,” she argued.

“No, you don’t,” he sighed and proceeded to go into the same macronutrient math she tuned out the last time they’d bickered about this. 

It felt right. It felt like them.

She smiled, feeling the anxiety of the day melt away as she led him through the double doors and back into the sunshine. 

[PS. Thanks for the request, Anon! Also posted this to AO3 here]

[GIF Source: THE ADAMANT OPTIMIST'S FAVORITES]

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 1837

Part 1

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp

When Natasha sees your eyes close, she finally comes back to her senses. She squirms away from Steve, crawling under an ambulance and making her way towards you. She ignores Steve telling her to stay put and doesn’t hear Clint telling police officers the direction the bullets came from. All she can think about is bringing you to safety.

The ambulance engine is still running, causing its underside to reach temperatures that make Natasha feel like she is hiding in a furnace. She holds her breath from the fumes as she crawls to the front of the vehicle, throwing her arm out and reaching for your hand.

“Y/N!” she screams. “I’m right here! Hold on!” Her fingertips brush yours and she grabs onto your wrist tightly. You’re bigger and heavier than her, but the adrenaline gives her strength. With a massive heave, she drags you under the ambulance. You smear through the puddle of your own blood and it soaks through the back of your shirt. 

There isn’t even enough room for her to lift her head, but she grabs onto both your arms, digging her elbows into the ground and crawling backwards. “I got you, Y/N. I got you,” she pants. But the lack of space and your deadweight make it impossible for her to pull you all the way through, so she backs out from under the ambulance. “Steve, help me!” she shouts.

“Move!” Steve says to her, although his shoulders are too broad to fit in the narrow gap. However, his arms are long enough to reach both of your hands, and all it takes is one big tug for you to come sliding out from the ambulance. 

Your eyes fly open suddenly, awakened by the agonizing pain coursing through your shoulder like a lightning bolt. You scream, and as much as it makes Natasha’s heart hurt, she’s glad to see that you’re still alive. 

“You guys need to get out of here right now!” Clint yells. “Take the ambulance!”

Steve pulls you into a standing position and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you onto his shoulders effortlessly. You flop over him like a ragdoll, pain pulsing in your stomach when you bump against his chest.

BOOM.

A bullet shatters the sideview mirror of the ambulance.

“Go, go!” Natasha urges, putting herself between the danger and you and Steve. Steve runs with you to the back of the ambulance and flings the door open. There is no gurney, so Natasha helps him lay you on the floor and climbs in after you.

“Stay with Y/N. I’ll drive,” Steve offers, going around to the front. “Clint, we’re taking Y/N to the Quinjet! Hold the scene down!”

“Copy that!” Clint is just as concerned for your safety, but he knows you’re in good hands. Steve jumps into the driver’s seat and throws the ambulance in reverse.

BOOM.

The windshield explodes.

“Let’s go!” Natasha screams, ducking her head.

“Hold on!” Steve backs into a sharp U-turn. The tires screech as they find traction on the road to accelerate forward.

Natasha practically lays on top of you to prevent you from rolling around. From a shelf, she grabs a handful of gauze packets, tearing them open with her teeth. She rips your shirt open and presses the gauze first to your shoulder, then another to the side of your stomach. You’re completely soaked in blood and it continues to pump out of you with each heartbeat. Your face has faded to a sickly pale. 

“N-Nat,” you whisper, trying to move but pinned down by the pain. “N-Nat—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she comforts. “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

You see the blood smeared on her face, her neck, and her hands, too delirious to remember that it’s yours. “A-Are you h-hurt?” you stammer.

Natasha wants to laugh and cry at the same time. You’re so in love with her that even in the face of death you don’t even think about yourself. “No, I’m fine,” she says, grabbing onto your hand and interlocking your fingers. She looks over at Steve, veering through parked cars and roadblocks. “Can we hurry it up a little?” she asks in panic, even though she knows he’s driving as fast as he can.

“I’m trying!” Steve swerves around a fire hydrant and the sudden movement jolts everyone in the ambulance. Natasha presses down on you too hard and you grunt in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “We’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

Your vision fades into fuzzy shapes and blurred colors. Even breathing seems to be too much of a task for you. Steve parks behind the Quinjet and comes around to help carry you in.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Steve asks as he lays you across the back seats of the Quinjet.

“No.” Natasha shakes her head. “Stay and help Barton.”

Steve doesn’t even try to argue. “We’ll find who did this, Nat. I promise.” He goes to the controls at the front and presses a few buttons. “The coordinates for the Tower are set. You’ll autopilot all the way there. Just make sure to update the medical team on Y/N’s condition.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Everything will be okay.” He places his hand on Natasha’s shoulder for a moment before jogging back to the ambulance. As soon as he’s off the Quinjet, the door raises shut and the engines blast on. You’re several states away from New York, but at the speeds the plane can travel, you should be there in minutes. You just have to hang on until then.

Natasha leaves your side only to grab more gauze, pressing it against your bullet wounds to slow the bleeding. She rolls you to your side so there’s no pressure on your front or back, but grimaces when she sees that your back looks as bad as your front.

“N-Nat,” you try whispering again, but she is quick to shush you.

“Not now, okay? Just stay awake for me, Y/N.”

You’ve never felt so weak before. It feels like you were hit by a bus and ground up by its tires. Your mind processes in slow-motion—probably a side effect of the blood loss—and you already forgot how you got into the Quinjet. But the physical pain isn’t your greatest concern anymore. You just don’t want to lose your fight and leave her.

Natasha fits an oxygen mask around your face and the cool air is comforting, but you know your time is ticking away. You don’t notice the Quinjet hiss to a landing or acknowledge the team of doctors suddenly hovering over you.

“We’ll do the surgery in room six!”

“Prep a blood transfusion!”

“Two gunshot wounds from a large-caliber gun!”

The doctors move you to a gurney and wheel you off the Quinjet. Natasha holds onto your hand as they take you to the surgery room, but a doctor stops her from entering with you.

“No, Romanoff. You gotta stay out here. We’ll take it from here.”

Natasha doesn’t fight back, letting your fingers slip through hers as you disappear behind the doors.

***********************************************************************

“Any updates?” Clint and Steve finally arrive a few hours later, but you’re still in surgery.

“Not yet.” Natasha paces the kitchen anxiously. Although she found the time to wash your blood off her hands and face, she hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet.

“Nat, you should get cleaned up. Y/N isn’t going anywhere,” Clint says.

“I know, I just…I want to be there when—” She can’t finish her sentence, falling into Clint’s arms and crying into his shoulder.

“Y/N is a fighter, remember?” Clint says, rubbing her back.

“But the amount of blood—”

“Super soldiers don’t go down easy,” Steve reminds her. “Y/N will pull through. And besides, you’ll be there to help with the recovery.”

Natasha nods, pulling away from Clint and wiping her face. “I’m sorry I froze when I saw Y/N get shot—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Clint asks.

“I don’t know—I put you all in danger because I couldn’t get myself out of the way—” she hiccups. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assures. “In fact, you were the one who dragged Y/N to safety, remember? I couldn’t fit under the ambulance and Clint was just sitting around like a duck—”

“Excuse you,” Clint interrupts, and Natasha smiles thinly.  

“So, did you find who did this?” she asks.

“Uh—” Clint and Steve look at each other awkwardly. “Natasha, we—”

“Did you find them?” Natasha repeats with more force. Clint motions for Steve to explain.

“That’s the thing,” Steve says. “We don’t know who did this. We scoped out the whole area with the police. We went out more than a mile, but we couldn’t find anything. No shell casings, nothing.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me a ghost shot and tried to kill Y/N?” Natasha scoffs.

“No, we…” Steve tries to find the right words. “We think it was a setup, maybe like a hired assassin or something.”

“Who would want to kill Y/N?” Natasha asks.

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Natasha knows you have a lot of baggage from your past, particularly when you were forced into illegal covert operations by the government. But it’s been a long time since then. You became your own person and changed your life for the better. Unfortunately, not everyone sees the side of you that Natasha and the Avengers do.

When Clint and Steve leave to shower and change, Natasha finally does the same. She dresses in clean clothes and curls up on your shared bed, inhaling your scent through the pillow and blankets.

Sometime later, Clint visits and knocks on the door. “Hey, Nat? Y/N just got out of surgery—” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence and is almost run over by Natasha as she hurries over to the medical bay. She doesn’t know which specific room they’re keeping you in, but it’s like she’s drawn to your very presence and finds the correct one instantly.

You lie upright in the bed, propped forward with pillows so there’s less pressure on your back. Your right arm is in a sling and your entire torso is wrapped in bandages. An IV drip leads into the veins on your hand, while a blood pouch sends blood into the vein inside of your elbow. You have an oxygen tube up your nose and looped around your ears.

“I heard the doctor went a little overboard on the anesthesia,” Clint says from behind Natasha, startling her. “You know, with the super soldier serum and everything. Y/N will probably be out of it for a while.” Natasha walks to your side and kneels, gently taking your hand. Your skin is clammy and colder than normal, but your pulse beats strongly.

“I’ll be here as long as it takes.” Natasha raises your hand, mindful of the wires around your wrist, and kisses your fingers.

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Click here for Part 3!

AN: Thanks for the amazing support from everyone! Definitely didn’t think I’d get that kind of response, but I’m extremely grateful for you all. The next part will reveal the identity of the shooter, so I hope you’ll stick around for that. :) Peace out!