#the only reason he got the seat in the first place was because of his popularity

[verstappenverse]

Just Another Valentine

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Every year you and Lando spend Valentine��s Day together as part of an unspoken tradition, but this year something feels different, something that is impossible for you to ignore.

1.8k words / Masterlist

Valentine’s Day always had a way of making you feel like a spectator in your own life.

The smell of chocolate and overpriced roses was thick in the air, reminding you of the one day of the year you could always count on to make you feel at least a little pathetic.

It wasn’t that you hated it. It was cute in theory, love, grand gestures, all of that. But when you were single, the whole thing felt a bit like a slap in the face. And unfortunately, this year was no different.

But at least you had one constant.

Lando had a habit of making sure neither of you ever spent this day alone. Every year, if you were both single (which, more often than not, you were), he’d take you out, making sure the day didn’t pass unnoticed. It started as a joke years ago and then, it happened again. And again. Until it was basically tradition.

So when your phone lit up that morning with a text from him saying, Pick you up at seven. Wear something nice 😉 you knew exactly what it meant.

And for some reason, you spent the whole day trying not to overthink it.

By the time 7:00 p.m. rolled around you had already changed twice, first into something dressy, then into something a little more casual, only to second-guess yourself and switch again. Which was ridiculous because it was just Lando.

The same Lando who raided your fridge without asking, who stole your blankets during movie nights without a hint of remorse, who had seen you half-asleep and drooling on the couch more times than you cared to admit. The Lando who teased you endlessly, who could read your mood with a single glance. Lando who had seen you at your absolute worst, stressed over exams, hungover from nights you barely remembered, even the times when you’d just been a mess of emotions, and he never once flinched.

So why were your hands shaking a little when you opened the door?

Lando leaned against the frame, dressed in something a little nicer than his usual hoodie and joggers, a fitted black sweater and dark tailored trousers, smelling like something expensive. His signature grin was in place, dimples and all, as his gaze ran over you slowly, eyes darkening slightly, though he covered it with a smirk.

“Damn,” he said, cocking his head. “You really listened to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You said ‘wear something nice.’ I figured you’d complain if I showed up in pyjamas.”

He put a hand over his heart in mock offense “I would never complain about anything you wore,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your coat. “Yeah, yeah. You want a gold star or something?”

“I’ll take a kiss on the cheek.”

You snorted. “In your dreams Norris.”

“You have no idea.”

You lightly smacked his arm as he led you out. The cool February air nipped at your skin as you got into his car, but it was warm inside, the radio playing quietly.

“So,” you said, glancing over. “What’s the plan?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, you were standing in front of a little restaurant you’d never been to before. Intimate, dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet part of town. Fairy lights lined the outdoor seating area, and through the windows, you could see tables set with candles, couples leaning in close over their meals.

The hostess led you to a table by the window, and Lando pulled out your chair, waiting until you sat before taking his own seat across from you. You raised an eyebrow at his oddly formal behavior, but he just smiled, picking up the menu like this was all completely normal.

“You really planned this?” you asked.

Lando leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

You eyed him, tapping the menu. “I don’t know. It’s suspicious.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Remind me how you’re single again?”

You exhaled a laugh, running a finger along the edge of your glass. “Probably the same reason you are.”

HIs expression flickered, something unreadable passing over his face before he leaned back, exhaling through his nose with a laugh.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you asked, “that we’ve spent more Valentine’s Days with each other than with people we’ve actually dated?”

Lando looked up. “Huh. Now that you mention it… yeah.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “Kinda sad, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Or maybe we just have shit taste in partners.”

You hummed, swirling the wine in your glass. “Speak for yourself.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it just means we have good taste.”

“In each other?”

“Obviously.” He grinned. “C’mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you.”

You paused for a second, something warm settling in your stomach.

The two of you had always been like this, flirting without thinking, teasing each other like it was second nature. But tonight, something felt different. The way his eyes lingered longer on you when you spoke. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you a drink. The way your knees touched under the table, neither of you moving away.

Then, as the waiter cleared the table, Lando reached under his seat and pulled out an elegantly wrapped box, sliding it across to you.

You blinked at it. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a Lego Bouquet set, a build-your-own floral arrangement, colorful and intricate.

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You got me Lego flowers?”

“They won’t die,” he said, “and we could you know…build them together, it could be fun.”

You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said, softer this time. “But I wanted to.”

You ran your fingers over the box, heart pounding a little harder than it should’ve been.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “Is it weird?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s… really sweet.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t know why your voice was so quiet.

You let yourself relax as the evening passed, enjoying the food, the conversation, the way Lando somehow always knew how to make you laugh, and by the time dinner was over, the restaurant was starting to empty.

Lando leaned back in his chair, watching you. “So, did I do a good job?”

You smirked. “It was okay.”

He gasped dramatically. “Just okay?”

“Always fishing,” you laughed, nudging his foot under the table. “Fine. It was great. Thanks for making today a little less depressing.”

He scoffed with a laugh. “Wow. That’s the gratitude I get?”

You rolled your eyes but softened. “Alright, alright. You really didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

Lando tilted his head. “Yeah, I did.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your breath catch for a second. But before you could process it, he was standing up and paying the bill.

“C’mon,” he said, holding out a hand. “One more stop.”

You recognised where you were the second he parked up.

“The beach?”

He shrugged, killing the engine. “Yeah.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “In February? You hate the cold.”

He shot you a sideways glance, “I also hate traffic, but that would never stop me from picking you up.”

It was quiet this time of night, the sound of the waves filling the space between you as you walked along the sand. The air was cool, but Lando had given you his jacket somewhere along the way, and you pulled it tighter around yourself.

After a while, he stopped, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked out at the water.

You stood next to him, stealing a glance at his profile. The soft glow of the city lights reflecting from the water caught the edges of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow.

After a moment, he sighed. “You okay?”

You blinked, glancing over. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

You shrugged, toeing at the sand. “Just thinking.”

Lando hummed. “About?”

And then, without thinking, you said it. “I can’t help but think that this is a little more effort than someone would normally put in for their friend.”

Lando turned to you, eyes searching yours.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then—

“Guess I’m not as subtle as as I thought.”

You swallowed. “Lando—”

“I know,” he cut in, running a hand through his hair. “Bad timing, right? But I just… I don’t know how to keep pretending that I only do things like this because we’re friends.”

Your heart was hammering. “So, all of this—”

“Was me trying to tell you without actually telling you.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost shy.

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling over you.

And then, suddenly, it all made sense.

The way he always put you first. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he showed up, year after year, on this day of all days. The way you never questioned it, because, well, deep down, you had always wanted it.

You took a step closer. “Lando.”

His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “You really didn’t need all this effort.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you—”

You kissed him before he could finish.

For a second, he froze. Then, his hands found your waist, pulling you in as he kissed you back.

You pulled back. “Say it.”

Lando swallowed, his jaw tightening. “What?”

“Say it,” you repeated, voice softer this time.

His fingers twitched around your waist.

Then, low and rough, “I want you.”

Your stomach flipped.

When you finally pulled back you were both breathing hard, the air between you charged. Lando's hands lingered on your waist, his thumb tracing absent circles against your hip, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

He let out a shaky laugh, exhaling slowly. “Fuck.”

You swallowed, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his sweater. “Yeah.”

His eyes flickered between yours, searching, like he was making sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Then, his lips curved into a smirk, soft, almost disbelieving.

“So… that wasn’t just a ‘thanks for dinner’ kind of kiss, was it?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “No, Lando. It wasn’t.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Cause I was really gonna struggle pretending otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He nudged your chin up with a knuckle. “You’re sure about this?”

You looked at him, really looked at him, the way his eyes held yours, the way his grip on you hadn’t loosened, the way this had always been inevitable.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m sure.”

Lando grinned, eyes bright with something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

“Finally,” he muttered, pulling you in again.

[mrspiastri]

for your valentines event, lando with prompt #17 please?

lando norris x reader

prompt 17. “I used to think Valentine’s Day was overrated. And then I met you.”

💌💌💌

Y/N never cared for Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t just that she found it overhyped or commercialized—it was that it had never meant anything good to her. While other kids in school had received love letters and flowers, she had sat through the day unnoticed.

When she was older, the holiday only seemed to remind her of how disposable she had always been to the people in her life. It was easier to dismiss it entirely than to admit that deep down, a small part of her wished she had ever been someone’s first choice.

And then there was Lando.

He was the human embodiment of warmth—laughing too loud, smiling too easily, making even the dullest moments feel golden. And for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he had made it his personal mission to get her to like Valentine’s Day.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered as they walked through the bustling streets, Lando’s arm draped over Y/N’s shoulder. The city was drowning in pink and red, couples strolling hand-in-hand, flower vendors pushing overpriced bouquets. It was suffocating. “I told you, I don’t do Valentine’s Day.”

“You say that every year,” Lando grinned, adjusting his beanie as he glanced at her. “And every year, I take it as a challenge.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. “And every year, you fail.”

“Not true,” he countered, nudging her playfully. “Last year, you actually let me buy you chocolate.”

She scoffed. “That was because I was hungry, not because I enjoy this ridiculous holiday.”

Lando only chuckled, undeterred, before leading her toward a small café tucked into the corner of the street. The warm glow from the windows was inviting against the cold February air. He held the door open for her, and the scent of coffee and cinnamon filled her senses as she begrudgingly stepped inside.

She settled into a seat by the window while he went to order. She watched as couples exchanged gifts, whispering soft words, fingers intertwined like they belonged together. She had never experienced that kind of love. She didn’t believe she ever would.

“Here,” Lando said, placing a mug in front of her. “Extra whipped cream, just how you like it.”

She frowned slightly. “I never said I liked whipped cream.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said with a smug smile. “I pay attention.”

She hesitated before taking a sip. Warmth spread through her, but it wasn’t just from the drink. It was from the way Lando was watching her, like he had just accomplished something important.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, but there was no sharpness in her tone.

“And yet, you keep me around.” He leaned back in his chair, his grin softening. “I must be doing something right.”

She hated that he wasn’t wrong.

As they left the café and walked toward her apartment, the streets were quieter, the world settling into the kind of hush that only came late at night. Lando was still talking, his voice animated as he recounted stories from his latest race. He was always so full of life, like he had never known loneliness, like he had never spent years wondering if he was enough.

She found herself smiling without meaning to.

Then, just as they reached her building, he stopped abruptly. “Wait, before you go inside—” Lando shifted on his feet, suddenly looking a little nervous.

She frowned. “What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. “I, uh, got you something.

Y/N blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He handed it to her, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you think Valentine’s Day is stupid, but I figured… you never really got to enjoy it properly. So, consider this a redo.”

Her fingers hovered over the ribbon before finally untying it. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple yet beautiful, with a small charm in the shape of a tiny race car. She swallowed hard, her throat tightening in a way she wasn’t used to.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered.

“I wanted to,” Lando said softly. “Because you deserve to know what it’s like to have someone care about you today.”

Her chest ached. No one had ever done something like this for her before—not because they had to, not because they wanted something in return. Just because they cared.

She let out a slow breath, her fingers tightening around the box. “I used to think Valentine’s Day was overrated,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “And then I met you.”

Lando’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. For once, he didn’t have a quick reply. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against hers before intertwining them fully. His touch was warm—steady, like he had been waiting for this moment all along.

“Guess that means I win this year’s challenge,” he murmured, giving her hand a small squeeze.

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smiled, tugging her a little closer. “Too late.”

And for the first time in her life, Y/N thought that maybe, just maybe, Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

[1296-very-good-year]

There are a lot of great posts about Viktor's abysmal s2 "arc" already, but here goes anyway: Viktor is entirely absent from s2.

Everyone loves and quotes Viktor's, "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good," BUT that declaration of failure isn't the end of their scene!

He continues with "We have to make it right" laid over Silco reviewing the letter requesting parley. Jayce AND VIKTOR worked on the peace deal between the cities together. To "make things right."

Jayce lets Viktor sit in his seat while they bring it to council:

I bring all this up because the last thing Viktor remembered before waking up in the goop cocoon would have been this vote passing.

He FINALLY managed to make a difference to help the Undercity! With Jayce, his partner! All he wanted in the end was to see this peace deal through. He was dying, and THIS would be his lasting legacy.

Then he wakes up in Season 2 with no idea what happened after the vote, and never even asks about it.

Then the break up. Jayce was going to push for peace, then resign from council to rejoin Viktor in the lab. All of the distance that grew between them in the second half of s1 was bridged in the finale. Jayce chose Viktor.

This is STILL Jayce's position after the attack. But Viktor walks away with:

Like their reconciliation at the end of S1 never happened.

What exactly do you mean, Viktor? Did your paths not converge again? Did you have a bad dream? Perhaps a dream of a longer season where Jayce's position DID change? Where he takes over the council and invades the Undercity with Hextech weapons while you were asleep? Perhaps?

Yes, Jayce broke his promise and revived Viktor with the Hexcore, and yes Viktor sees blueprints for Hextech weapons on the table, but there is never a moment we see Viktor feeling anything like betrayal. He's immediately over their partnership, and Jayce - who cares about nothing else - is blindsided. The last time Viktor was awake, he and Jayce were united in a common goal, and after a second of looking at a blueprint, Viktor's all ready for the divorce. "Diverged long ago" my entire ass.

Where were the arguments? The explanations? The hurt feelings? He reamed Jayce out harder for not announcing their new projects in a speech!

Viktor, are you not even going to ask Jayce WHY he designed more Hextech weapons? Or why he's covered in bloody bandages? What about asking how you got injured enough to need healing with the Hexcore in the first place? No? Maybe acknowledge that it was wrong for you to hide Sky's death (the reason why you wanted the Hexcore destroyed)? Where was the DRAMA?

We get only vague notions of Hexcore mind control for why Viktor's entire personality disappeared, which aren't even carried through to Act 2. The Viktor we knew and loved from S1 who got mad, who cared about Jayce and Zaun, never woke up (until the end. right before he kills himself).

[wintergreenoreo]

I love how people are going “i wish the sport loved him as much as he loved the sport” as if the main reason he got back an F1 seat wasn’t due to the fact that the sport benefited from his PR and popularity. Of course the sport loved him, he was a walking money machine in their eyes.

[squiddy-god]

The Hydro Dragon? A closet freak!?

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I have no excuse for this other than I NEED this man so bad it makes me look stupid. He's just so…dreamy sigh anyway here are some hcs that i have for the Iudex of fontaine. This is really long. I think I blacked out writing this. This is 6 pages of google docs single spaced size 11 arial font. I think i need to be sedated

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN ♥︎

Cw : this is pure filthy smut, freak Neuvillette, dragon form, monster fucking, inhuman genitals, double dick, desperate kinda pussy drunk Neuvillette, soft dom and hard dom, no pronouns but afab anatomy, implied chubby reader, squirting, bath sex, rut, breeding kink, just pure horny, slight cumflation, oviposition,egg mention, a little bit of predator prey vibes, overstimulation, tail riding. Very slight watersports mentioned, Daycraphilia, Nasty dragon man, sweat and liquids. Spit swapping, spit swallowing, spit kink, marking, biting, possessiveness.PIV sex, possible anal, Title kink? Sir kink? Innocence and court kink?(trust me bro) Reader is matching this mans freak. Aftercare is given, safeword is in place even if not mentioned explicitly

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Neuvillette is not entirely oblivious, he knows that he has needs and instincts but what he is wholly unaware of is that many of these instincts and desires are quite… out of the ordinary

There's also the fact that he has like 0 experience, so all of these desires are rather new or have been festering in his dragon mind for centuries

What the Iudex of fontaine lacks in experience he makes up for in the fact that he is downright insatiable and animalistic at times

When you first got with him you quickly realized that this man was incredibly touch starved, even the most innocent and fleeting touch from his beloved sets his very being to a burning desire.

And he is embarrassed to say that he craves it Neuvillette craves your touch in both a innocent and intimate way to the point you are shocked to find just how clingy he is towards you

The only time when he's not touching you, holding you, trying to sait the burning you leave him with is when he has court, and once he is out of court his mind returns to you, making sure you have a permanent seat at the opera house right next to his usual reserved seating.

Once he's out of court he's by your side, placing a kiss to the back of your hand and guiding you with a hand to the small of your back

To the people of fontaine he is a doting and protective lover, which is true, but they don't know the sheer levels of clingy that he is

He tries at first to contain this, so he doesn't scare you off, but eventually he simply needs you to be close to him

The other thing that comes as a shock is that this man is a freak

Let's start with his more inhuman side

The reason he is so covered is because his skin is slightly scaly, beautiful scales of cyan and cerulean blues that layer his skin in large patches, the main areas are his sides and part of his back, his thighs and his arms where they seem to sit permanently much like his pointed ears and horns (the blue streaks in his hair are horns trust me on this) when he uses his hydro powers or lets loose they glow

When he really lets loose the scales creep up his neck to his jaw, his ears seem to grow longer and more pointed, his teeth get sharper, his nails seem to grow more into claws and his pupils draw into slits.

His eyes and the rest of him seems to give off a faint blue glow

His tongue is long- like really long- and forked- and when he lets loose its a deep shade of blue

His cocks- both of them are far from human, hidden behind a vent they are ribbed un the underside with the head coming to a slight point, the top side is lined with bumps that resemble small tendrils, they line the head of his cocks to.

His tips are flushed an angry dark blue

This man has nice veins, his cocks are quite veiny but the veins along his body are rather pronounced as well, a deep blue, good and hydrated

He also has a large tail, its long and a deep blue fully scaled, thick at the base and tapers till the tailfins witch are a almost iridescent cyan and resemble the ends of his coattails

Ok now into the real smutty stuff-

He needs it messy, as messy and wet as possible, the problem is the more wet and messy it gets the hornier he gets in return

If the bed sheets aren't soaked and dripping wet with just about every fluid possible then he isn't satisfied

And i mean the bed sheets look like they just came out of a river

He gets so pussy drunk- this man is insatiable and eats you out for his own pleasure, basically tongue fucking you to drink up all of your juices he possibly can

The taste of you is intoxicating and he cannot get enough

The first time he eats you out, his tongue fucking into your overstimulated hole before he finally pulls out and his long tongue wraps around your clit as he all but makes out with your lower half and you wine out that it feels weird like your goona pee-

And this freak without hesitation presses on your stomach as you cum from his unrelenting ministrations

Because he is a freak who doesn't understand that things like that are not in fact what most are into. (he is eternally shocked when you explain this to him, trying to tell him his taste in kinks and fetishes are abnormal. Cannot fathom how it isn't hot to others)

But when to his shock you squeal and squirt his mouth, chin, and chest soaked along with the sheets

You are mid apology for the mess when you look at his eyes, his pupils are blown wide as saucers as he stares down at you breath heavy- downright ragged and he groans so low it rumbles in his chest and almost sounds like a growl

“I hadn't known that this was something the human body could do” before his pupils contract into little slits and he is licking you clean before he goes right back into trying to make you squirt again-

He is obsessed with you squirting, the fact that you were so lost in (the sauce) pleasure that you produced a significant volume of liquid? This man lives off of moisture, his favorite drink is water and he needs everything to be moist and wet for him to be fully comfortable, such is the nature of the hydro dragon. So it shouldn't be a shock that he is obsessed with making you squirt

Usually this leaves you rather overstimulated, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and running down your cheeks

Oh and Neuvillette love it- tears of pleasure soon laped away by his tongue as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss

Asks you with utmost seriousness to spit in his mouth and is confused by how flustered that makes you

But once you do he is practically moaning at the taste, greedily drinking whatever you will give him

And if you match his freak? Ask him to spit in your mouth? He's gone lmao- truly you are a blessing hand picked from celestia just for him

The first time you gave him head and spit on his cocks so you could switch between sucking and stroking them, making sure they got equal attention, he came instantly. The sight was just too much for him to handle

Neuvillette cums an insane amount. Its slightly watery but the amount is ridiculous, his precum is enough to have you thinking he already busted, but when he actually cums its like a broken faucet taking several gulps to swallow down and it still manages to coat you

And he just stays hard as a rock, the dragon stamina is insane and is even worse when he's in a rut

He loves to see you absolutely plastered with his cum, dripping all over you and out of you

The way your poor tummy is bloated while his clawed fingers push the rapidly escaping liquid back into you

The breeding kink on this man is unmatched, and i mean the only other contender who even comes close is tartaglia “PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT” ajax,

Neuvillette doesn't care if you actually can get pregnant or not- he is breeding you and he will make it happen

More freaky shit the man is obsessed with your sweat

He always hates when it gets too hot out but he thinks he can stand it when he sees the beads of sweat rolling down your body as you guzzle down a bottle of water.

Has to restrain himself with a white knuckled grip on his cane to stop from licking the sweat off of you

Once you are alone tho? He is absolutely licking you, to the point you can't tell if it's the sweat or the saliva that's dripping off of you.

Another chance to match his freak. Once on a hot day in his office you gave him a chaste kiss to his jaw, witch already had him longing, but then you licked a strip up the chiseled line of his jaw and he came in his pants

Work was finished early that day

If there's one thing that gets him worked up its seeing you wet in any context, or seeing you return the desire he has for you. All in all he wants you to desire him, to long for him

I think he has a large bathtub, really its more like a pool that happens to be heated and deep, with benches along the edges for sitting. Again like a large heated swimming pool

His favorite place to fuck you is in his bath, despite the scene of soaked silk sheets being burned ito him mind, fucking you in his element is just something else honestly.

The water sloshing against you accompanied by the lewd sound of you getting absolutely rearranged? Music to his pointed ears.

Almost forgot to mention this but his cock glows and throbs, the veins pulsing with a slight glow- and if you get him horny and desperate enough (not hard this man is easy to get bricked up-) mostly after he's spent hours between your legs or making out with you, you can even see and feel how his cocks seem to writhe and they write inside you too, when their thickness is stuffed into your hole(s) and Neuvillette is about to cum again they writhe and squirm in your gummy walls sending you over the edge as they poke against that gummy spot inside of you

Neuvillette wants to have both his cocks in just your one hole but he knows the stretch of just one is intense so he won't indulge unless you beg him for it

Once when he was at work you decided to take a nice bath, to ease your sore muscles and the numerous marks littering your body, from bite marks to dark hickeys all over

The Iudex can be quite possessive at times, the dragon instincts letting that possessive streak coil in the pit of his stomach because you are his mate and when he says his, he means it.

When he gets possessive like this he gets meaner- no one in fontaine dares to flirt with his lover, out of both respect and slight fear of the consequences (harassment is taken very seriously)

But every so often someone wants to test his patience, or a foreigner who has no idea who you are oversteps. He is always calm, firm hand on your back as he states that it is rude and impolite to so vulgarly pursue his partner

But when the two of you are back at your shared home? He is a bit mean, rougher as he needs you to say that you're his over and over again.

This is where the title kink(?) and sir kink come in. call him “sir neuvillette” “sir Iudex” profess your innocence, plead your case to him, prove the other party guilty

And he will relent his marking and harsh grip infavore of soft open mouth kisses and the pleasure he bistoes on you

Afterall he is a benevolent and fair judge

Back to the bath-

You took a bath without him, witch is a rare occasion as he loves to bathe with you, even in a non sexual context. It is simply a comfortable intimacy for him

But this time is different

Seeing you surrounded by his element of hydro, the room moist with steam as your body glistens with moister, his eyes go to saucers again and he is quick to approach

Tugging off his gloves with his teeth and letting them cup your cheek and travel beneath the water while he leaves sweet kisses on your skin until he cant help himself and dips his head to the place where the water rest against your chest and he drinks

Like a man lost in the dessert, you can hear the obscene gulps this man lets out

The freak in him drinks your fucking bath water and has absolutly no shame about it

In Fact it has his cocks aching for you, while his expression can only be described as adoration

Because the Iudex of fontaine adores you in a way that is only brought on by centuries of longing for a person he has never met

He is much worse during his rut

It is a week solid of him just absolutely fucking you into whatever surface or body of water he can find

His throat is tight and dry, no amount of water seems to be able to quench this thirst and so he drink you

If you thought he was a munch before then the glint in his eyes at the scent of your arousal is downright predatory

He makes sure you drink about as much water as him, witch is a feat of its own, just so that you have more for him to drink from you

His taste for water is extraordinary on a good day but it even more apparent in his rut,

Because regardless of when it is he can taste you. The kind of water or liquids you drink seeps into everything, he can taste it in you sweat, in your slick, in your spit- the cool refreshing quality of mondstat, the mineraly flavor of inazuma, the sweet taste of sumeru, the tang and burn of inazuma, he can taste it normally but in rut he is downright shameful about describing how you taste on his tongue.

Has you drink different imported watters between rounds to get full flavor

Practically begs to breed you- hes already bad on a regular day, his paternal instincts too stong- but now its different, he wants his eggs inside you, wants you swollen and barefoot around his manor and he needs it- if you aren't ready he’ll just stuff you full like he normally does with cum he knows wont take, but he can hope

Remember how I said he doesn't care if you can get pregnant? Yeah that's because it doesn't matter- the part that matters is his eggs-

On the chance you do say yes to his eggs he is overjoyed, biting down on your shoulder with a bit of venom that numbs your mind- just enough so the stretch of his eggs and the way he has to deposit them doesn't hurt

Speaking of biting the first rut you spend with him is intense, its a week he takes off, (it is now regularly built into his schedule that he has a solid week blocked out for his rut) its his first rut he hasn't forcefully suppressed or simply worked through in solitude and now he has a mate to spend it with?

The first time he slides his length inside you he can resist the urge to sink his teeth into you, right where your shoulder meets your neck he bites down hard

A permanent bite mark with a small hydro mark in the center that glows faintly when he touches you, or when it rains, or you touch water. The glow sends a pleasant and refreshing feeling, like warmth without heat

Because he is so much more thirsty the dirty man fuck you in the bath a lot more and ends up drinking your bathwater more

Be a freak, do it back, drink this man up because he is a tall glass of water.

You do have needs, you can just be attached to the Iudex for a week straight, even tho he insists he could send someone to go grocery shopping, you so cruelly leave him to fist his cocks while you are out getting fresh air.

Personally I like the idea of neuvillettes home being underwater like those glass structures you can find in fontaine. Its huge in a lake, half of it is a beautiful mix of stained and clear glass, even some that seem iridescent, the other half is built in the same french rococo style as the mansions of fontaine, with the exception that it is built into the rocky wall of the deep lake. There is a tunnel that leads to the oceans of fontaine and its ideal for neuvillette. But you need fresh air

So you are gone for a few hours on the surface and he is suffering,

By the time you get back he the mansion is dark, none of the lights are on and it was raining outside (hence your hasty return)

The second you step in through the elevator down you can tell something- someone is watching you, the subtle growl and fleeting glimpse of glowing blue in the corner of your eye making the hair on the back of your neck stand up

Like a small lamb you wander through the large house knowing that hes right there, stalking in the shadows, hunting you

The only light is at the very ends of one of the halls, where you know the master bath is. With trepidation you walk towards the bathroom, knowing that's probably where he's going to absolutely jump your bones, you can't help the arousal that pools

Another thing that alerts you being the growl you hear behind you

When you finally get to the bathroom you decide to play his game- stripping off your clothes slowly- temptingly as his eyes burn across you before you sink into the water and swim to the center of his large bath (real basically a swimming pool)

You don't even hear him get in, but the second you turn back around expecting him to be at the water's edge- he's inches away from you, predatory eyes staring down at you as if to let you know he's won

The lights go off and all you can see is the glow of his eyes as you swim away slowly while he drops towards you until the cold hard tiles press into your back while you sit on the built in ledge, he rises cageing you between his arms as his long silvery hair falls disheveled down his back and cascades over his tense shoulders like a waterfall, he glows more and more and water drops hit your face, the blue streaks that cover the underside of his hair give off a faint glow, then the scales along his body, the long dark blue tail that you now see is also slightly alight. You dare to travel your eyes away from his, away from his hands- his claws that grip and cut into the tile slightly, down his chest and below his waist to the glow that sits just below the water

His tail wraps around your legs nudging them apart

“Look at me my beloved”

His tone is soft but there's a edge to it that has you snapping to attention, for once your eyes are blown wide as saucers and his are narrow slits like needles

Then you feel it, the rub of his thick tail that has your legs spreading to accommodate it while it grinds against you getting you worked up and just as desperate as he is

Ride this mans tail he will be put under a trance

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ♥︎ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[pprodsuga]

tides of regret | heeseung

summary: in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.

notes: aaand she's here! this is 24.4K words worth of my heart and soul. consider this a token of my appreciation for welcoming me on enhablr. i sincerely hope you enjoy it. <3

deep cuts: #1

warnings: angst/internal self doubt, playful banter, dirty talking, praise, slight degradation, oral (m and f receiving), dry humping, fingering, mentions of exhibitionism and face sitting, nipple sucking, spit, brief moment of anal (tongue only), condom removal, unprotected sex, creampie.

For @enha-stars – may this story rip you apart and stitch you back together.

masterlist

Incheon feels lonely at three in the morning. 

The overhead lights being turned off because of the lack of travelers at this hour makes the airport feel bigger than it actually is. It’s too quiet without the familiar sounds of luggage wheels on the linoleum or overhead speakers announcing flight changes every ten minutes. You don’t think you’ve ever been to an airport so early in your life. 

It’s quiet enough to leave you alone with your bothersome thoughts. In the years you’ve been away from home as you studied abroad, you can’t help but feel a gravitational pull towards life in Seoul and the people in it. The familiarity of your home outweighs the adventure you once yearned for in your youth, and now you’re left with the exciting notion that, this time, you’ll know when you’ll be coming back.

The terminal has an abundance of seating. Your backpack rests on the seat beside you as Jay double checks the gate number while the rest of your friends find a spot on the seats next to you, attempting to find an ounce of comfort in the dimly lit area.

“I know leaving early saved us hundreds of dollars, but I need sleep,” Sunghoon says from beside you. His usually well kept hair falls in all sorts of places like he woke up without a second thought and hailed a taxi the minute he opened his eyes. 

“You’ll thank me later,” Jay says. “We can sleep on the plane.”

“Our flight doesn’t leave for another two hours,” Jake whines from beside him as he yawns. “How am I supposed to sleep on these god forsakes chairs?” 

“Quit whining and try,” Jay retorts. He looks behind him to see the rest of your friend group approach before glancing over to you. “Doing okay?” 

“How come Y/N gets preferential treatment?” Jake beckons. 

“Because she isn’t a nuisance like you,” Jay immediately fires back before diverting his attention towards you again. 

“I’m alright,” you say, stifling a yawn behind your hand. “Just cold and sleepy.” 

“Hopefully they turn off the damn AC,” Sunghoon says as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. “I feel like my veins are being injected with ice.”

“It’ll warm up when more people come,” Jay reasons. “I wish there was a coffee stand that was open. I need a cup.” 

“I could go for one,” you agree. “I’m trying to stay awake for the next couple of hours so I can sleep on the plane.” 

The rest of your friend group appear behind Jay and you look down to check your phone for any notifications when Heeseung catches your eye. It takes you by surprise and you abruptly look back at your screen and busy yourself by aimlessly scrolling through social media as he attempts to occupy the empty seat beside you, but Jake beats him to it.

“I’m gonna freeze to death and then all of you are gonna have to deal with my frozen body.” Jake dramatically slouches down onto the seat until his head finds your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek as if trying to find comfort in you. “Jesus, Y/N, you’re so warm.”

You laugh. “I wore layers.” 

“You’re gonna regret that when we get on the plane,” Jake mumbles. 

Heeseung, from the corner of your eyes, opts to move to the seats in front of you. You try not to pay him any mind.

You snort. “Yeah, well I can take these layers off while you freeze until you become an icicle.” Jake hums when you let your head fall onto his. 

“You know I’m not built for the cold. Australia’s my home.”

“And yet you moved to Korea,” Sunghoon provokes. 

Jungwon and Riki are rummaging through the bag of snacks you’d brought for an early breakfast until the restaurants and coffee stands around you open up. Jake’s right, it’s far too cold to stop shivering, but you suppose you’re grateful that the discomfort distracts you from sleeping too early. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally going on this trip,” Sunoo says from above you. With your head still on Jake’s, you turn to look at the boy speaking. “I’m really excited for you to show us where you’ve been for the past four years.”

A tiny smile graces your lips. “I’m excited to show you around London and Paris. The latter is a two hour train ride. My friends and I would go every few weekends or so to explore the city. Pictures and videos don’t do them justice.” You sigh as you reminisce. “I really did think that I’d end up living there when I graduated.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Missed home too much, I guess.” You shrug. “Though, I can’t believe Riki went through a growth spurt in the last two years that I was gone.”

“You went back to Okayama before Y/N came back for holiday break, right?” Jungwon asks, looking between the both of you.

“That’s right,” Riki says. “I was sad that I couldn’t see you before you went back to school.”

“Now he’s twice my height.” You gesture at the younger boy. He’s too shy with the sudden affection and chooses to bury his head in Jungwon’s shoulder. “You were so little.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles. 

“I can’t believe you’re fluent in English now.” Jungwon pushes Riki off of his arm. “You, Jake, and Jay are kind of scary when you speak English.”

“It was a little hard at first. I used to watch a lot of American cinema so I could understand it better than I could speak it. But I can’t lie, it’s fun being able to talk to them in English.”

“You were so cute trying to string phrases together during your first summer back,” Jay coos. “Texting her in English was funny because she couldn’t understand the difference between spelling.”

“Poor Jake.” You pull your head from his and look down at him. “You probably had aneurysms looking at my grammar.” 

You lift your head to see that the aforementioned has fallen asleep amongst the conversation with his mouth slightly ajar and soft snores echoing past your ear. You don’t move when Jay asks if you want Jake off of your shoulder, but you shake your head.

Conversation falls flat when the group unanimously decides that sleepiness is overtaking the need to socialize. Jay keeps checking his watch to look out for the time while your eyes try to look anywhere but at Heeseung. 

It’s odd, the way two people can lose a friendship overnight. The heartbreak that came with romantic rejection wasn’t nearly as bad as realizing texts and phone calls were far fewer in between the moment you had arrived back in Europe to finish your studies. It hurt to know that neither one of you felt comfortable enough to see each other when you were back in your hometown unless the two of you were invited to hang out with mutual friends. 

Still, seeing Heeseung after he had rejected your confession felt like a punch to the gut. 

Long gone were the days of being able to send him unimportant updates about your life abroad or what you were doing at any given summer day back home. You couldn’t ask him to go to the restaurants you used to frequent near his house or yours. You certainly couldn’t call him at random hours because you were bored and missed his voice. 

It wasn’t for the lack of trying. It felt like things might've gone back to normal after a short period of not talking, but your texts going unanswered and your calls going to voicemail was all you needed to know. 

Perhaps it’s why you’re comfortable spearheading this vacation with Jay, who had made it a point to visit you in London when you’d chosen to stay behind instead of going home for the holiday break. The two of you had never spent time alone prior to then, but it touched you that he’d go out of his way to dedicate an entire day to visit you when he was there for a family vacation. 

Coming back to Korea the summer after graduating felt like you were making the right choice, even if your head was telling you to find a home in Europe. Still fresh from your unresolved rejection, stepping off of the plane and knowing you wouldn’t be returning back to your university’s town made the uncomfortable reality of coming face-to-face with Heeseung sink in. You’d have to live with the consequences. 

But it’s been eight months since you returned, six months since Jay’s dad was gracious enough to offer you a position on his marketing team, and five months since he encouraged your entire friend group to take a trip to your old stomping grounds. 

The proposition felt too sudden, especially with how little experience you had working with his team, but you’d spend an evening with the Park family for him to consider you an honorary member. Though, you’re sure Jay might’ve told him something happened between you and Heeseung, especially after telling everyone you wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays. 

To this day, you haven’t uttered a single word to your friends about what happened the night Heeseung rejected your love confession. If you know him as well as you think you do, you don’t think he's told anyone either. 

“Cafes are opening up,” Jay notes. Sunghoon’s ears perk up. “Three of us should go get food and drinks while the rest save our seats.” 

The airport overhead lights must’ve turned on while you were deep in thought. Jay’s right, the coffee stands have opened and it’s likely due to the new influx of travelers who’ve arrived at the airport. Foot traffic is still light and you know Jay wants to get ahead of the crowd. 

Jake has woken up because of the growing murmur around him and lifts himself off of your head to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. He yawns once more but tries his best not to fall asleep again.

“How long was I out?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Sunghoon answers.

“Sorry for sleeping on you,” Jake apologizes. 

“It’s okay. You needed it.” He scrunches his face, not used to the new lighting. “Jay, I’ll come with you to get coffee. I need to stretch my legs.” 

“I’ll help as well.” Heeseung speaks for the first time in a while and his voice nearly catches you off guard. 

“Sure.” Jay gathers everybody’s orders before the two of you follow him around the terminal. 

The line isn’t unbearably long, but with Heeseung towering behind you, it feels like you’ve been standing for hours. You shift from one foot to the other in order to find a happy medium to no avail. Jay orders for the group and you pay attention to him more than you care to when you realize Heeseung is now standing beside you to make room for more people to wait in line. He’s considerate like that and you hate it. 

When the baristas are finished with your order, you reach for the bag of sandwiches in your haste to escape Heeseung. But your fingers touch the steam and you drop the bag into the counter with a hiss.

“Careful,” Heeseung says. “Don’t get hurt, please.” 

Your clumsy nature was always something he teased you for. Heeseung sounds so sincere about his worry that you think you’d rather him pour all of the hot coffee on you instead. 

“Thanks.” You grab the bag with so much as a single moment of eye contact before realizing Jay has started walking back. 

Breakfast is eaten in silence. Everyone is too tired to speak, save for Jake whose twenty minute nap has rendered him a little more awake than the rest of you. You and Sunghoon share your egg sandwich and chocolate croissant respectively without a word spoken between the two of you. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung is staring at the way your thighs are close to Sunghoon’s. He had shifted his body closer to yours in order to form a makeshift table so that sharing pastries wouldn’t result in crumbs on the floor. You can feel Heeseung's gaze on your kneecap and it makes your face flush. 

Sunoo and Jake offer to throw everybody’s trash away when you’re all done eating. The airport is in full swing by now and everyone has said their graces and apologized to Jay for giving him a hard time with how early they arrived. 

It seems that sleep has threatened to overtake you. You’re waiting in line to scan your plane ticket and board the aircraft, but the sudden warmth of the airport has caused you to yawn a few too many times. Riki’s standing in front of you and his height makes for a perfect makeshift wall to lean on. Or, that’s what your tired brain is telling you, because you slouch forward and let your cheek rest against his back as you close your eyes. 

“Sleepy girl,” you hear him chuckle. You merely nod in acknowledgement. 

Your comfort is short lived when he softly nudges you because the line has moved. Soon, you scan your ticket and give the airline agent a smile as thanks before waiting to set foot on the aircraft. 

Sunghoon notices your dropped shoulders and wordlessly takes your backpack off of you. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you say with a frown when you see Sunghoon carrying your belongings with him. 

“Let me hold it,” says Sunghoon. “You look like you’re about to fall over with the extra weight.” 

“If you insist.”

“Let us take care of you, yeah?” Jay interrupts, bumps his shoulder with yours. “You’ve been running all over Europe these past four years and we’ve only seen you a handful of times. You deserve to relax on this trip.” 

“I can’t believe you guys are being so sweet on me. I know that’s ending the second we get back to Korea.” 

The two boys laugh. “Well, it’s only fair, I guess. You’re like, the mom friend.”

“Jay is the mom friend.” The aforementioned doesn’t argue. 

The squeeze of the aircraft is tight and you’re desperately trying to look for your seat. It seems that Sunghoon is sitting in your row, which excites you, but you’ve come to realize that you’ve obtained the ungodly middle seat. You make peace with it for a brief moment before Heeseung clears his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s switch seats,” he says from behind you. His ticket shows the window seat right next to yours. “I know you hate middle seats.” 

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you.” 

“You’re not asking.” He says it with a smile and it makes you cower into yourself. “You should move to your new seat so we don’t hold up the line.” 

Heeseung suggests it in a way that is reminiscent of the days where he’d give up his sweet treats because you wanted a taste. It tugs at your heartstrings but you don’t have time to think about that when you notice how the plane is starting to fill up. 

Reluctantly, you slide into the window seat while Heeseung and Sunghoon follow suit. Your seat belts are buckled and in no time, the aircraft takes flight. 

For the next hour, Heeseung looks like he wants to say something to you. The headphones you've brought do well to cancel out the noise, for the most part. You can see from the corner of your eye that he glances at you from time to time, but you ignore it and choose to get comfortable for the long haul. 

When you notice the flight attendants come with the beverage cart, you take it as a cue to get comfortable and try to get some sleep for the next few hours. Likely due to the lack of sleep from the night prior, you fall asleep as soon as your head rests against the plane.

You don’t hear Heeseung requesting an extra bottle of water for you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you come to, you’re barely able to register that it’s time to eat the first meal on the flight. You take your headphones off and put it in your backpack as you blink the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Chicken or beef?” 

Heeseung looks at you, expecting an answer.

“Hm?”

He laughs softly. “Chicken or beef?” 

Your eyes dart between him and the flight attendants when you realize they’re about to approach.

“I heard them asking people which meal they want,” Heeseung explains. “So, chicken or beef?”

“Beef.” You clear your throat. 

“Beef it is.”

Sunghoon requests chicken when the flight attendant arrives. Heeseung orders beef for the both of you before you get the chance. If he notices you looking at him strangely, he doesn’t comment on it. 

The food comes quicker than expected and the meal tastes decent, though you’re trying your best not to elbow Heeseung as you cut away at your portion. He seems engrossed in the movie in front of him while you peek at what he’s watching—Iron Man, to no one’s shock. 

You soften a bit at the nostalgia that comes with Heeseung and Marvel, namely the rainy days in your youth spent marathoning the superhero movies. There had been one year in high school when he’d dressed up as Tony Stark and you as Pepper Potts despite a few girls your age whispering behind your back at the matching costumes out of jealousy. You don’t think you can think of the franchise without thinking of Heeseung. 

The memories almost bring a smile to your face. Heeseung seems to notice you glancing at his screen in between bites. You avoid eye contact when you realize he caught you staring and focus on cutting your meal, praying that Heeseung will stop looking at you and watch the movie instead. 

But he takes one earbud out and holds it to you. 

“Do you want to watch it with me?” He’s halfway through. You tell him such but he doesn’t care. 

“I don’t want to jump in halfway through.” 

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t done that before.” 

Heeseung says it with such nonchalance that it makes your stomach drop. He sees the way your eyes falter for a moment and the way you glance between his hand and the screen. You try to come up with excuses to refuse his offer, but you’ve got eight more hours until you land.

“Sure,” you settle. Heeseung gives you one headphone and resumes watching.

Between the meals being picked up and tray tables being put away, you manage to fall asleep in your seat. Sunoo sits in front of you and upon coming back from a quick bathroom trip, sees your head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder with his cheek propped on your head. The two of you are fast asleep despite the credits rolling and he can’t help but snap a quick photo. 

You wake up some hours later when Sunghoon says your name. The cabin lights turning on temporarily blinds your vision as you wake up when you realize you’d managed to push yourself back enough to rest yourself against Heeseung’s arm. 

“Oh God,” you say in shock, pulling yourself and the seat upright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, like he means it. “Sleeping on planes is uncomfortable. But I know you know that.” 

You nod. “Yeah. It's too hard to get comfortable.”

“I can’t believe we’re spending two weeks in Europe. I’ve never been outside of Korea and Japan before. You’ll have to help me with my English.”

“Jay or Jake can also help with that.” You say it with a yawn and Heeseung’s eyes cast to the floor for a brief moment. You barely notice, gathering your own belongings as the flight descends. 

“Yeah, I guess they can.” 

When you land, the familiar disorientation of the time difference truly wakes you up. It’s eleven in the morning when the plane door finally opens and Jay’s moving a step ahead of you as he occupies space in the aisle way to grab his belongings. You follow suit and wait for your turn to exit amongst your friends and other travel goers.

Stepping out of the plane and into the familiar terrain of the Heathrow Airport reignites your attentiveness and you smile at the fond memories of being greeted by your university friends upon arriving. The familiar atmosphere of English travelers milling around the gate warms your chest with nostalgia. 

You wait for the boys to emerge before signaling Jay, who follows beside you as you walk towards the baggage claim area. You lead him with little trouble down the escalator as the rest of your friends follow suit, yawning in an attempt to wake themselves up. 

“It’s weird seeing you in your element,” Jay comments as he stands beside you, periodically checking the turnstile for his luggage. “A good kind of weird.” 

“This airport might as well be my second home,” you tell him. “It feels routine to wait for my luggage at this point.”

“I’m tempted to sleep when we get to the hotel but I don’t want to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is.” Jay pulls his luggage. 

“Yeah, that’s smart. I think we should take an hour to freshen up and find a place to eat before we go exploring.”

“I can already hear Jake whining about it.” 

The two of you share a laugh. “He���ll just have to get used to it. We can have an early night and rest up before we explore tomorrow.” 

“He slept on the plane, for the most part,” Jay informs. “Surprisingly, he didn’t snore as loudly as he usually does.” He spots your luggage and takes it off of the belt for you. 

On the other side of the carousel, Heeseung and Sunoo are standing together to find their own luggages. 

“You guys looked pretty cozy,” Sunoo comments. “It was nice seeing you two like that again.”

“It felt nice,” he mutters. “I really missed her.” 

Heeseung doesn’t have to tell Sunoo what happened between the two of you for him to know that you two aren’t as close as you used to be. The older boy feels nearly ashamed that his own friends have caught up on his awkward demeanor.

“Well, she’s back for good and we’re here on vacation. Try not to dwell on whatever it is that’s making you think too hard.”

Heeeung laughs. “I’ll try, Sunoo. It’s just hard when we’re not as close. How can I compete when we’re in her college town and how will I talk to her in Paris?”

“Well, you never know,” Sunoo says as he picks up his luggage. “Anything can happen in the City of Love.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The hotel itself is modest in size. Quaint, old cobblestone surrounding the entryway like you remember it. The people are busy walking in and out of the meeting rooms in the lobby as you walk to the concierge to sort out the rooming situation. Jay stands beside to help distribute the keys and the employee behind the desk bids you a good stay. 

The view from the fifth floor is spectacular already. You catch glimpses of the streets of London below you, street lights decorating the sidewalk and flowers surrounding the city. This feels like the London you remember and it adds a slight pep in your step. 

“Alright, it’s decided that three of you are gonna share,” you say as you reach the first room. “The other four will be split into two rooms and I’ll get a room for myself.”

“That’s not fair,” Jake huffs. 

“I refuse to share a room with any of you.” You pocket the key to the single bedroom. “Plus, Jay’s mom helped me make the arrangements when we planned the trip.”

“Favoritism,” Jake coughs. You nudge his side.

“To make it fair, everyone will pick up a key card without knowing the room number and flip it. That’ll determine who you room with.”

“Alright,” Jungwon says. “Fair enough.”

One by one, your friends pick their key cards and discover their roommates. Jake, Sunoo, and Riki are the unlucky three who will be rooming together for the duration of the week. Jay and Sunghoon are in the room directly across from theirs while Heeseung and Jungwon share a room. 

“Let’s meet at the lobby in an hour,” Jay suggests. “We can get some lunch and do some exploring before deciding on dinner.”

“We can take it easy and sleep early tonight,” you add in. “I know that flying internationally is always a bitch and I try to time my sleep when I need to.”

The eight of you part ways. Your suite has a beautiful view of the sky and the room itself makes you feel like the main character of a romance film. The bed is just to your liking with pillows stacked to the nines. It feels nice to have a moment to yourself. With your friend Yunjin backing out of the trip at the last minute due to family conflicts, you hadn’t had time to think about anything other than arriving at the hotel safely. 

You busy yourself with a shower and freshen up, pulling out options for you to wear for the rest of the night. You settle with something stylish yet comfortable and put enough makeup on your face until you’re satisfied with the person staring back at you in the bathroom mirror. 

True to your word, you enter the lobby when you said you would. Jay and Sunghoon are already downstairs by the seats. Sunghoon stands to offer you the loveseat but you decline politely and sift through your phone until the rest of the guys arrive. 

When they do, it’s like all eight of you collectively agree that hunger has overtaken you. You know of a nearby cafe that serves sandwiches from your days in university. You lead them to the quaint restaurant that has your friends staring at the art on the walls as you greet the cashier and order. 

It’s a slow moment for the eight of you as you all eat in relative silence, the sound of quiet slurping audible from the coffees everyone has chosen to drink. 

“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Jungwon asks. 

“Around the area, yeah,” you say, looking around. The outdoor seating area is just towards the edge of the street with the weather being a cool, cloudy day. “I loved coming to cafe’s like these with my friends after class. We’d study until they kicked us out and then go for a drink or two.” 

“We should go to a pub while we’re here,” Jake suggests. “I’ve always wanted to see an English pub. We have a few back in Australia.” 

“I know just the place! My friend’s brother owns it and they know I’ll be in town for the next week. It would be nice to catch up with them.” 

“Hopefully your friends here kept you out of trouble,” Sunghoon teases. You flick him with your fingers. 

“I’m the most responsible one out of you seven and don’t you forget that.” 

“Do you miss being here now that you’re back?” Riki asks in between sandwich bites. “God, I love London already.” 

“You’re going to choke if you don’t slow down.” He apologies and takes a single bite. “Well, I think I miss my friends a lot. I don’t necessarily miss being in university, but I miss the freedoms that come with it.”

“I still can’t believe you spent four years of your life here,” Sunghoon says. “That’s insane when you think about how you cried when your aunt took you to Tokyo for a week when you were in middle school.”

The boys laugh and you frown. “I was twelve, okay? You wound me. But yeah, I think I grew out of my shell in high school and had this urge to travel but didn’t know how to do it. I was surprised when my parents encouraged me to apply to King’s College, even more so when I got accepted.”

“You’ve always been too good to stay in one place for too long,” Jake says. “We got close until halfway through our first year of high school, I think. I always got the sense that you wanted more than what our hometown could offer.” 

“I always wanted to move to the heart of Seoul eventually. But I think I needed to come here in order to figure that out.”

“Would you really have stayed in London if you had the chance?” 

You avoid looking at Heeseung, whose attention averted from his phone to you. 

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “But what I do know is that I’m happy to be back in Korea and I’m happy to be traveling to Europe.” 

“You always did have that sense of adventure,” Heeseung says. “I remember you were the one who always got us in trouble when we explored a little too far.” 

“Your mom was pissed that time I walked a little too far down the shoreline when we went to Jeju.” The memory feels warm despite your discomfort at having Heeseung’s eyes on you. “I didn’t know who she wanted to kill more, me or you.”

“Definitely me. You could do no wrong in her eyes.”

“What happened?” Sunoo asks. 

“My family and Heeseung’s took a trip to Jeju Island when we were around seven, if I remember correctly. I’d taken swimming lessons and thought I could show off my new skills at the beach we were at, but there was a wave that was a bit too much for me to handle.”

“She was nearly swallowed by the ocean.” Heeseung hits his knee with his palm as he recalls the memory. “I mean, I was seven and it seemed like the wave was gigantic but to my mom, it must’ve been just tall enough that she could see over it.”

“She yelled at him for the rest of the night because she had to pull me out from under the water,” you add. “I was fine. My parents laughed it off but his mom was so pissed at him for not telling me to come back to the shore.”

Echoes of laughter fill the space. It feels nice to be able to laugh like this with Heeseung, temporarily forgetting why you were so awkward around him in the first place. 

When the check is paid, you lead the group around the area. Sunghoon takes out his camera and captures everything that inspires him while Sunoo and Riki are off to explore the shops around. It brings warmth to your chest to see your friends enthusiastically exploring the space you once called home. It had been a dream of yours since Jay came to visit and let you drag him around town for the day. Having them with you feels like you’re healing a part of yourself. 

You duck into the quiet bookstore you used to frequent while you were a student. Filled with novels and trinkets from floor to ceiling, it feels familiar to you. 

You get lost in thought when you glance at the books in front of you and you don’t notice Heeseung approaching. 

“Still love books?” 

“Jesus,” you gasp, clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Seems like you still scare easily.” You hate that he knows you so well. Clearing your throat, you put the book back. 

“Yes, to both. I used to come to this bookstore a lot when I had free time.” 

He looks around. “It looks like a nice place.”

“They have a reading nook in the back. The owner is this sweet older woman who was the first person to help me with my English when I first moved. I think she let me read books for free because I used to bring her sweets.”

“That sounds like something you’d do.” You cast your eyes to the floor. “It’s crazy that there’s parts of you that I don’t know.” 

“Yeah,” you mumble solemnly. Heeseung’s eyes bore into the side of your face as you pretend to look at the titles of the books. 

“Do you talk to your college friends often?” 

“All the time. My closest friends live all over the place. Two of them are from the area, one went to live in the States, and a few live in Busan.”

“I’ll bet it was nice to have some Korean friends when you moved. I remember you used call me to tell me about your first semester here.” 

You can’t help but think about the first few months after you moved when you would call Heeseung for a bit of comfort when things felt too overwhelming. With Korea being nine hours ahead, you always felt a little too bothersome phoning when it was the middle of the night for him, not used to the time difference. But he always answered you or called back when he had the chance. 

You’d spend hours on the phone, talking to him about how difficult it was to learn English and how making friends was not as easy as you thought it would be. Navigating the city felt lonely and isolating because you’d barely made friends in your classes in the first few weeks. Heeseung was there through all of it, reminding you that being eighteen years old in a new country made you brave despite feeling like you were a failure for not grasping a hold on life like you thought you would. 

Falling asleep on the phone with him became a routine, too. Whether it was you who fell asleep after a long day or Heeseung, who had stayed up listening to your worries, the sound of his breathing made it feel like you were back home in Korea instead of exploring a grand new world. 

Soon enough, you could talk your way around and piece together conversations with your classmates until you’d found friends who shared similar interests. Heeseung was the first person you told and the first person to tell you how proud he was that you extended your roots to learn about yourself away from home. You always thrived off of his praise as if making him proud was something you never sought out to do, but appreciated when it happened.

But that was four years ago. Whatever friendship you had with him then is not the one you have with him now. 

“It was nice,” you settle. “I miss my college friends. You might get to meet some later in the week.” 

“Nice,” he mutters to himself when you walk past him. “That’s really nice.” 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The rest of the week is spent in your old stomping grounds, from touring your campus, to shopping, to sightseeing. The eight of you split up more often than not to explore different areas based on mutual interest. You find that Heeseung tends to gravitate towards you and you aren’t sure if it’s because he feels guilty for rejecting you or because he genuinely wants to explore what you want to do. 

Still though, at least one other person joins you. It feels nice to have a buffer to avoid any awkward conversation or moments, especially when Heeseung trips over his words trying to talk to you. 

The week goes by too quickly for your liking. Spending time in London has felt like coming back home, in a way. You’ll always have your memories here and this city will remain the same when you return in the future. Now, it no longer feels like the place you escape too because things got too hard back home. 

Even with Heeseung next to you more often than not, you’ve found a happy medium The awkwardness dissipates when you set aside your indifference to show everybody your favorite places, watching them explore the city for themselves. 

As expected, Riki and Jake have spent a little too much on clothing with the hopes that they can fit it into their luggage on the way back. It fits miraculously. 

Your friend Leo, the one whose brother owns the pub you used to frequent, tells you he’s excited to see you after all these months. It’s a Friday night when you arrive, seeing it well populated. But it’s rather early in the evening before the rush hour, so you enjoy the relative quietness before people rush in. 

Heeseung, on the other hand, has been in a stupor for the latter half of the week. It began when he managed to talk to you in the bookstore, but blossomed when he watched you navigate your way around the city. You barely looked at your phone for directions and had no problem switching to English when you greeted shop owners. Hearing you speak fluently in a language you once struggled with in your childhood made him feel somewhat removed from your life. The two of you used to joke that he was always better with English. Now, the tables have turned. 

The fear that you’d told your school friends about what transpired between the two of you plants itself in the back of Heeseung’s mind. He worries that your friends won’t like him and that you’ve scorned his name, but he chides himself just as much as he worries because he knows you and how deeply you care about people. 

Heeseung wishes he could go back in time to change what happened. He wishes that he’d admit his mistake and confess to you before you left. It had taken him a long time to confront his own feelings, but seeing you back in Korea made him realize he didn’t care if the relationship was long distance or not. He didn’t care as long as you were in his life. 

The months spent apart without phone calls or texts were agony. He loathed hearing what you were up to from your mutual friends or when he accidentally watched your Instagram stories. Seeing you happy without him made his heart lurch, not out of possessiveness, but because he wished you were comfortable enough to share those moments with him. 

To boil it down, Heeseung hopes this trip can undo a year’s worth of his ignorance. 

But before he can think about that, your exclamation pulls him towards a strange man before you. 

“Leo!” 

The sheer volume of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung, who eyes the bloke the second you make a dash for him. His heart winces when your arms wrap around the stranger’s neck and as he spins you around, squeezing you for good measure. He isn’t pleased when Leo settles to let his arm rest around your waist instead of letting you go. He’s even less so when you don’t attempt to separate yourself from him. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Leo says with a boyish grin, accent making Heeseung nearly roll his eyes. 

“This is Leo.” You let your head rest on his shoulder for a brief moment. “He’s one of my friends from university. I think we met in, what, second year?” 

“Second year, auditing class with Professor Donahue on Mondays and Wednesdays,” he says. “God, that class was so boring.” 

“He’s the friend whose brother owns the bar,” you explain to them. You introduce Leo to each friend respectively. “Jay and Jake are my friends who are fluent in English.” 

“You can speak it and understand it as well, right?” Leo asks as he shakes Heeseung’s hand.

He nods while giving him a tight smile. “Just a little. I’m practicing.” 

“Nah, you sound perfect already.”

Heeseung feels indifferent to see you in your element with people from your past. The bartender, who is Leo’s brother, tells you the first two rounds are on the house after he checks IDs. Riki and Jungwon are excited to have their first pub experience after you make them promise to take it slow and drink lots of water in between. 

“It’s a bit weird seeing her be like that,” Leo says to Jay with a laugh. “When we first got to know each other, it was me who had to tell her to watch how much she drank.”

“Y/N, drinking?” Jake asks. “No way. Back in Korea, she got drunk maybe twice a year.” 

“She and a mutual friend, Elizabeth, were as thick as thieves. They were like a package deal before we all graduated and until she moved to the States. They’d always go a little too hard after exam season was over or if people invited them out on a Saturday night.”

“Y/N’s always been the responsible one out of the bunch,” Jay adds. “In high school, there was one time she got so drunk that she nearly scaled the roof of my friend’s house. Heeseung nearly fell off trying to get her down. After that, she swore off alcohol.” 

Heeseung makes a few comments in the conversation as he watches you catch up with Leo’s brother and as you facilitate conversation between the rest of the guys. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you. 

The two of you talked less as you became more comfortable in your environment. At first, Heeseung took it to heart and made the assumption that you’d chosen your friends in England over him, but a stern conversation with his mother made him realize he was being juvenile. He could only comfort you so much when he was oceans away. It was probably a good thing that you were talking to him less because that must’ve meant you were as overwhelmed or scared like you were when you first moved to England. 

You’d still call him a few times a week before bed–when Heeseung was getting ready for the day–to update him on everything that happened in the past week. You two texted more frequently than you conversed, sending him pictures of new places you’d discovered or him sending photos of your mutual friends with sad faces at the notion of you not being able to be there with them. 

Heeseung had always felt a bit jealous of your time abroad. He loved Korea, but he yearned for the same sense of adventure you once had. Only, he hadn’t figured it out until halfway through university when it was too late to transfer or apply for a semester abroad. When Jay had proposed this trip and that his father would expense half of it, he jumped at the opportunity to go. 

Although, he didn’t know it would hurt him this much.

Hearing you talk about your life here made him feel like it was his fault that he barely knew your life in England. It was so easy when the two of you lived a few blocks from each other; he’d run into you with your other friends on the street or know exactly where you were likely to be at any given moment. He knew you felt the same way about him too, as you always knew where to find him if you really needed him. 

But it feels like this is the first time he’s seeing you for who you are as an adult, not the child that he grew up with. 

Surely, Heeseung always knew you had a good head on your shoulders. You were always the more outspoken one who stood up for what you believed in, no matter how big or small. You never backed down if someone was giving you a hard time and it was one of the reasons why Heeseung had struck up a conversation with you as you two played in the sandbox after a few kids had stolen the toys he was playing with. That sense of responsibility and gratuity followed you into your adolescent and teenage years, too. Not once had Heeseung heard anyone say a bad word about your character. He’d like to think he had something to do with it, but deep down, Heeseung knows it was all you. 

When you confessed nearly a year ago, Heeseung felt like his heart might’ve ceased to function properly. Truth be told, he’s never taken his daydreams about being your boyfriend too seriously. He always wondered if it was normal to develop small crushes on your girl-friends at a young age and wondered if those butterflies in his stomach was because of how often his other friends at school would playfully tease him until they stopped. Jake and Sunghoon had been people who teased him for having a girl as his best friend until they befriended you too, and Heeseung was satisfied when they stopped with their comments. They, too, could understand why Heeseung was so keen on keeping you around. 

But the butterflies never quite left him. Your smile was too bright. Your voice was too angelic. Everything about you and how you fit into his life felt a little too perfect; Heeseung hated cliches in his youth and this felt like one big cliche joke. He knew his mother didn’t approve of the girls she’d see him with, even in college when he got into his first serious relationship. She wasn’t as enthusiastic about her as she was with you. At the time, the frustration seemed too biased until it ended in a way that made Heeseung realize his mother truly knew what was best for him.

Heeseung never considered the possibility of dating you until you confessed your feelings for him. 

As much as he plays off being the spontaneous, go-with-the-flow type of person, Heeseung gets scared when things go unplanned. He backs away from courage and from moments that make or break his character. He likes to play it safe unless he can make a calculated risk in his favor, choosing to let others fall flat on their face and learn from their mistakes. Heeseung had never considered the possibility of you having feelings for him either. That fateful summer night is one he will always remember, especially in the way the light in your eyes dimmed when he told you he didn’t feel the same. 

He remembers your quick apologies and the way you backed away too quickly for his liking. He had tried to reach for your hand to tell you it was okay and that he didn’t feel awkward about it, but you’d shook your head and merely told him you’d see him later. Heeseung had never seen you leave so abruptly. But he figured you’d get over it, as you typically do when things don’t go your way. You’re resilient like that.

Heeseung assumed you needed time to heal from the awkward encounter and hadn’t reached out to you for a week. He didn’t think much of it at the time and hadn’t made plans with you until he realized you’d be leaving for Europe the week following. By then, it had been too late, because he stopped by your house the morning after you left. 

Getting together with Seulgi after you left felt too easy. He knew she’d always had a thing for him but brushed her off for reasons he couldn’t fathom until he bumped into her a few weeks after you’d left without so much as a text or a voicemail. Feeling a bit irritated at your wordless departure, Heeseung took Seulgi out on a few days to take his mind off of you.

Except, it didn’t work. Heeseung found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to go out to dinner with you when she was sitting in front of him. When she’d texted him to thank him for his time, Heeseung imagined the kind of things you would say after your first date. When he kissed her for the first time underneath the twinkling lights of a local fair, Heeseung pictured you as he closed his eyes. The fantasy was ruined when Seulgi’s perfume touched his olfactory senses, pulling him back into reality. The guilt of kissing somebody who wasn’t you ate at his chest the moment he saw Seulgi smile at him from where he stood. 

He tried his best with her but broke it off when the unrest overtook his mental wellbeing. It was amicable, for the most part. All Heeseung knows is that his parents (along with all of his friends) were happy that he hadn’t continued with that relationship.

“Y/N used to talk a lot about you, Heeseung,” Leo says, bringing the aforementioned out of his thoughts. “We’d be out at dinner or something and she’d always run outside to answer your calls.”

“Really?” Heeseung says out of surprise. He didn’t know you did that. 

“You bet,” Leo replies. “She talked a lot about Korea when we’d hang out with our friends but she seemed to talk about you the most.” 

Heeseung wonders if you told him about what happened between the two of you the summer before you left. 

“I’m flattered.” Heeseung honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He chooses to tell the truth. “I missed her a lot. I grew up with her living a few blocks away. It felt weird not to be with her when I went to college.” 

“Y/N said the same thing. Every time she’d be homesick, she’d tell us she needed to call you.” Leo’s words bring a warm flush to Heeseung’s face but he chooses to blame it on the alcohol. 

“I heard my name,” you say as you walk to where they’re sitting. “Not talking shit about me, my dear Leo?”

“Never,” he teases. “Although, I’m sure I still have some pretty photos of you and Elizabeth at this very pub.”

“Oh God, please don’t.” You push his shoulder when he moves to reach his phone. “Those do not need to see the light of day and you definitely need to delete them.”

“How else am I going to blackmail you?” 

“You’re the worst.” You look cute when your nose is a bit red from drinking. You always did suffer from redness to the face when you drank. “I can’t believe Elizabeth and I let you into our friend group.”

“Hey! I was the one who introduced you to her in the first place.”

“I’ll bet if I texted her right now, I’d have it in writing that she’d choose me over you.”

“Okay, you don’t need to do that because she definitely would.” 

The group laughs and conversations flow nicely as a few other friends from your university days join you later in the evening. It feels like a reunion, of sorts. It feels especially wonderful to have most of your favorite people under one roof despite the slight language barrier. But everyone seems to get along well enough, especially Riki, who has taken a liking to your Japanese friend you met on your first day of orientation. 

When the room gets too hot, you make your way outside where you’re fenced in by a metal barricade. It’s cold outside, but the alcohol running through your veins keeps you warm enough that you decide not to go back to ask for a jacket. Heeseung wants to follow you but stays still in his seat when he sees Sunghoon exit the door after you leave. 

The wine in your hands is still halfway full. You’ve decided that you’ve taken the lead far too many times this week and that Jay can handle getting everyone home. It’s your fourth drink of the night, just enough to keep you buzzed for the duration of your time at the pub. 

You register the door sliding open and make room for Sunghoon when you spot him over your shoulder. 

“Your friends are really nice,” he comments, leaning on the railing next to you. 

“They’re the best,” you say with a fond smile. “I owe them a lot. I only started enjoying my time here when we became friends.” 

“You know, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t be happy when you moved to London for the first time.”

“What makes you say that?” 

“I think a lot of people would describe you as brave and as someone who will dive in head first to things that scare you, which is true for the most part. But I think people rarely pay attention to the vulnerable side of people like you because it looks like you have it all together.”

“I was a total wreck when I first moved,” you said. “I don’t know if you remember the few times I called you when Heeseung wasn’t able to pick up.”

“Oh, I remember. That was the first time you cried to me and now you have no issue getting your snot on my sweaters.” You swat his arm at the joke but he dodges you just in time. “I remember Yeji getting worried about you too. She was so young and always said she wanted to be brave like you.”

“Sweet girl,” you say. 

“The two of you are similar. I watch out for her a lot, you know? Our relatives always think she puts on a brave face and don’t think twice when she talks about her fears. They always tell her she’ll be fine, but it’s hard to actualize that when you don’t believe it.”

“I thought about coming home a few times when things got really hard,” you confess. “I was out of my depth because I couldn’t speak English very well. I could only speak fragments and getting my way around campus was so hard.” 

“I don’t know how you did it, if I’m being honest. But I’m glad that you stuck around long enough to see what your life would be like.”

“Me too. I’d really love to think I’ve become a better person now that I’ve gotten the chance to know myself beyond the comfort of my home, you know? I love you guys and I love my family, but sometimes being back in Korea felt like I was listening to what was expected of me instead of what I wanted.”

Sunghoon laughs. “Yeji said the same thing a few weeks before we left for London. Part of me thinks she’s considering studying abroad. I found a few college brochures in her room.”

“Don’t you know better than to snoop inside your sister’s bedroom?”

“Yah,” he says. “Yeji steals too many of my sweaters and she said I could get them back.”

“You’re just too easy to make fun of, Hoonie.” 

A comfortable silence passes over the both of you. The audible sound of people talking amongst themselves and the beautiful lights of the city illuminate what makes London so beautiful. It isn’t until Sunghoon speaks that you pull yourself out of your daydreams.

“I heard you that night,” Sunghoon confesses. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The night of the bonfire.I know you told Heeseung you liked him.”

You turn your head to him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you’d tell me whenever you felt ready,” he says with a shrug. “You went back to London a couple of weeks later and I wanted to spend time with my friend. There never seemed to be a right time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and balances from one leg to another. “You looked really sad, Y/N. I’ve never seen you look that way before.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

Sunghoon listens as you sigh and you push yourself from the railing. Your back touches the cold metal as you look beside yourself to see him. 

“I deluded myself into thinking Heeseung might’ve felt something for me too,” you admit. “It’s not that girls and boys can’t be friends, but towards the end of our friendship, it was like something shifted.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d…touch me longer. Hugs, pulling me by my waist at parties, lingering near me at Riki’s bonfires, that kind of thing. He started playing with my fingers a lot more. Heeseung never used to touch me like that. He’d interrupt conversation with guys to pull me away. I always knew what he was doing but I liked him so much that I didn’t care if he interrupted a good thing between me and someone else.” 

Sunghoon purses his lips and watches as you look ahead at the glass doors to see your friends laughing. “I noticed that too.”

“When we were alone, it felt like he was one sentence away from telling me he loved me more than a friend. Not that platonic crap that the eight of us tell each other, but the deep shit where that kind of love comes from kindred souls.” 

“Heeseung’s too stupid to see what’s good for him anyway.” Sunghoon pulls a laugh out of you and he’s glad to hear it. 

“But then I confessed to him the night of that bonfire.” You bite your lip at the memory, willing yourself not to tear up. “I mean, you heard him. He told me he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to ruin our friendship because it was perfect as it was.”

“And then you heard he’d gotten together with Seulgi.”

“Yeah.” You nod once and look down at your drink. 

“They weren’t together long,” Sunghoon says. “She wanted more but he didn’t want to give that to her. The boys were confused because he seemed to be really happy with her until he broke it off so sudden. I always thought it was because he felt too guilty after rejecting you.”

“What did the guys think?”

“Riki hated her. I have a feeling it was because she wasn’t you, though. I think Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jake were surprised when he’d gotten together with Seulgi after you left and were trying to be nice about it. Jay was indifferent, but then again, you two weren’t as close as you were with the rest of them until he visited you while you were away.”

“Did his opinion change?” 

“Definitely. Heeseung had a period of time in the new year where he went on a couple of dates with her, telling us he might’ve made a mistake by breaking things off too soon.” Sunghoon shakes his head as he tells the story. “Jay was unbelievably pissed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how he gets when he’s angry. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk until he’s calm. But it was like a volcano erupted, or something. Jay came back mid January to find out Heeseung had been seeing Seulgi for a couple of weeks and completely lost it on him. He said things about not knowing a good thing if it spat in his face and how he ruined every chance of happiness because of his own doing.” 

“Wow…I didn’t know Jay said that.”

“It was scary. Heeseung tried to fight back and say it was his life and that Jay didn’t have a right to say what he could and couldn’t do, but the poor guy never stood a chance. Jay asked him if he would be happy if you came back to see him dating Seulgi and that shut him up real quick.”

“What do I have to do with it?” you ask. “He rejected me before I left.” 

“I don’t know,” Sunghoon says truthfully. “I always thought that Heeseung was trying to redeem himself through Seulgi. But I guess we’ll never truly know.” 

“It’s been almost a year,” you reminisce. “You’d think I would’ve gotten over him by now after spending time in Europe with, well, other boys.”

“He’s not just any guy who rejected you,” Sunghoon says. He looks out at the street, finding the words to say. “You two had been best friends since before me or the guys got to know either of you. There’s a special kind of bond between people who grew up together, you know?

“I think a large part of you misses being friends with him. Sure, rejection always stings, but it’s knowing that you don’t have your best friend that hurts you more.”

“Jeez,” you chide. “You always know how I feel.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m just observant. I know that it’s hard to be on this trip because Heeseung’s trying to be that friend you once knew. He probably feels guilty for giving you the cold shoulder during your first few weeks back in Seoul.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well he’s not doing a great job showing it. Life would be easier if he left me alone.”

“But do you want that?” 

You cast your eyes to the floor. “No, I don’t.” 

Satisfied with your answer, Sunghoon nods. 

“You know, I knew Heeseung had feelings for you the night we played spin the bottle just before we graduated high school.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hoon. He never liked me.” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Do you remember what happened that night?” 

“Vaguely. I remember that being my first time trying alcohol and Jake having to cut me off when I couldn’t walk straight.”

He nods. “When you were sober enough to string a few sentences together, some girl suggested playing spin the bottle. When it was your turn to spin, it landed on me.” 

You make a face. “Ah. I do remember kissing you.” 

“Well you don’t have to look grossed out,” Sunghoon teases. “Everyone knew it was awkward because we’d been friends for like, five years at that point. We were both so flustered that the kiss lasted for maybe two seconds before everyone cheered.

“Heeseung was pissed. I saw him looking at me like I’d killed his family, or something. I swore I could see steam coming out of his ears. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week because I’d been your first kiss.”

“Seriously?” 

“Dead serious.” Sunghoon laughs at the memory. “He wouldn’t answer my texts. In the group chat we were in, he’d acknowledge everyone but me. It wasn’t until a week later when we were all hanging out that I told him there was nothing between us and it was awkward to kiss you in front of our friends.” 

You stand there, dumbfounded. “Huh.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” he confesses. “I doubt anyone remembers us kissing except for him. I assumed this would be a story I’d tell you and the guys when you both eventually got together.” 

He murmurs an apology. “It’s okay, Hoon. I’m glad you told me. I guess I’m just…confused. Why did he reject me if he allegedly liked me?” 

“I wish I knew. He was miserable when you left and refused to talk about you moving back to Europe for your final year abroad. Heeseung was really sad when he found out you weren’t coming home for Christmas break.” 

“I couldn’t bear to see him. I was so heartbroken and the friends here tonight were consoling me in the way they knew how. I knew I’d be a depressed wreck if I came back home.”

“That makes sense,” Sunghoon affirms for you. “I’m glad you met up with Jay while he was here, though. You got some kind of Christmas gift from home.” 

“Me too. I feel like Jay and I got closer because of it. I knew he could tell something was off but he didn’t say anything about it. Something tells me he knows more than he cares to say.” 

“You know Jay.” You both nod. “More observant and caring than the rest of us. Part of me thinks Heeseung’s jealous of your new friendship with him since the two of you basically planned this whole trip on your own.” 

“Well, Jay has more international travel experience and his dad knows the right people,” you say with a shrug. “I spent four years of my life here. It makes sense.”

“To us, yes. To Heeseung? I think his feelings cloud his judgment.” 

“He never used to confuse me,” you admit. “We used to talk about how much we hated when people made us guess how they felt or what they were thinking. We always said it was unfair if you make people you love, make you guess their intentions. But he’s doing that to me and it’s been driving me insane.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I watched him date girls in high school. I watched him with what I thought would be his first serious girlfriend during our first year of college before he went through that short hookup phase. God, that hurt me so bad and I couldn’t say anything because it wasn’t my life.” 

“For what it’s worth, I think it was brave of you to confess to him,” Sunghoon tells you. “I don’t say that as a cheap cop out to make you feel better either. You know me, I’m really sentimental about things even if I don’t come off that way. To confess your feelings to someone who you love…one can only hope to hear that someday.” 

You nudge your shoulder with his. “You say that like you didn’t have girls begging for a date.” 

Sunghoon laughs and you know what he means. 

“You’ve always been the bravest of all of us,” he continues. “I think the reason why I wanted to be friends with you when we were kids is because you didn’t take bullshit from people. I was too shy to stand up for myself between my career as a figure skater while trying to be a normal kid. You and Heeseung offered that kind of normalcy. I could see you two in the bleachers at my competitions and then we’d go out for ice cream like it was any other day.” 

“Well, now you’re going to make me cry.” 

“I mean it, Y/N. You’re a great friend and a great person. I hope Heeseung hasn’t fucked things up too bad that you leave his life for good.” 

You shiver. “Me too.” 

“Talk to him,” Sunghoon advises. “Do it before we leave. You’re removed from your life back home.” You open your mouth to refute but he beats you to the chase. “If it doesn’t work out, then you’ll know your answer when you go home and you can resume your life without Heeseung in it.” 

Sunghoon leaves you alone with your thoughts but makes you promise that you’ll join the group soon.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you walk back into the pub, Jake clouds your personal space before you can even think about ordering another drink.

“Jesus, Hoon. Couldn’t you have offered Y/N your jacket if you guys were gonna be out that long? Poor girl looks like she’s about to freeze to death.

Jake’s affinity for the dramatic never ceases. Your friends look at your goosebumps and the way you’re acclimating to the warmer temperature inside while Sunghoon merely rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you say. “We only came in because I started to get cold.”

“Let me get my jacket for you,” Heeseung says as he rises from his seat. 

“No.” You’re sure you say it too abruptly, but you can’t bear the thought of wearing his clothes after the conversation you just had. “I’m fine, honestly.” 

“Stop being stubborn and wear a damn jacket,” Leo chides, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. “You have this habit of never bringing one when you need it and it drives me crazy.” 

“But that’s what I have you for, don’t I?” 

As you tug the material closer to your body, Sunghoon watches as Heeseung stares at Leo with a hard expression. 

“Not when you’re back in Seoul, you goof.” Leo takes your empty glass. “I’m glad you have these guys back at home. They seem really good for you.” 

“I love them a lot.” You say it so tenderly with your head tilted as you look at the boys you’d call family, only for them to coo at your clearly vulnerable, inebriated state.

“My mother, my older sister, and best friend,” Riki says with a hiccup as he engulfs you in a hug. “Seriously, I would be dead in a ditch without you.” 

“I don’t know a better person,” Sunoo chimes in from where he’s seated. 

“There was one time where Y/N had this lemon phase where she couldn’t stop drinking lemonade or eating lemon candy,” Jake tells the group. “Now I think of her every time I see something yellow.” 

“That’s kind of fitting though, isn’t it?” Leo asks. “Yellow for sunshine.” 

Everybody agrees and it makes your cheeks and neck warm up. You hide yourself in Leo’s jacket, but God, Heeseung wishes he could hide you in his arms instead. 

Still, he can’t help but agree with Leo. If there’s any truth to his words, it’s that you are made of pure, unfiltered sunshine.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, all eight of you board the train for a two-hour ride to Paris. For the next five days, you’ll be acting as a tourist rather than tour guide, for the most part. Jay volunteers to take the lead since you did most of the heavy lifting in London. You do, however, chime in to give him a few recommendations from your prior visits to the city. 

Sunghoon’s advice plagues your thoughts, so much so that Jungwon has had to guide you out of the hotel and into the cab before arriving at the train station. Both he and Sunoo look a bit worried about you, but you wave them off and tell them you had one too many to drink. You know they don’t believe you but you’re grateful they don’t press on. 

Paris is much more beautiful than you remember it, and it’s likely due to the fact that you’re here on vacation, not because you wanted a weekend getaway to escape the stress of midterms and exams. The people are just as indifferent as ever. You’re able to practice some of your basic French to order coffee and pastries for everyone. It’s a feat that leaves Heeseung impressed and you try not to acknowledge him when you see his jaw drop. 

The hotel itself is more beautiful than the last. You have the room with the balcony and double doors leading to a breathtaking view of the buildings and streets below. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, even if the streets are littered with trash and the people are a bit too loud. It still feels charming. 

The rooming situation is the same as London, with you in the single room and the rest of the boys to fend for themselves. This time, Jungwon, Jay, and Sunghoon are sharing the three bedroom with Heeseung and Jake sharing another, and Sunoo and Riki in the other double. The hotel must’ve miscalculated the rooming situation and put your single room at the end of the hallway away from the others, but you aren’t complaining. 

The first few days are filled with happiness and dread, namely when you see Heeseung as you begin your day. He has a knack for making you laugh until you come to the notion that you really shouldn’t be finding his jokes very funny because he doesn’t deserve that kind of reaction from you. 

In fact, he doesn’t deserve your attention after ignoring you for as long as he has. Seeing Leo again brought up memories of crying in his flat with Elizabeth and drinking too much wine to forget the pain temporarily. Your friends invited you to a night spent in the pub after Leo begged his brother to close it for the night so that you could have a free space to drink and talk about Heeseung until your voice gave out. 

Your irritation carries over and Heeseung can tell when you move away from him when he tries to stand next to you. He’s hurt but he tries to understand that you have a right to be, even if he knows in his heart the reasons why he acted the way he did. He just needs to find time to talk to you, even if the conversation doesn’t end the way he hopes it will. 

With two days left on the trip, you’ve eaten your way through the streets of Paris and have done your fair share of shopping. Each of the boys had bought you a small token of their appreciation (Heeseung paid for your latte, Jay purchased a small wallet from Prada, Jake gifted you new sunglasses, Sunghoon a charm for your bracelet, Sunoo a bowl of pasta for lunch, Jungwon a pair of earrings, and Riki a new jacket that looks similar to his from back home). It warms your heart to know you have people who care about you enough to show and tell you. 

The Eiffel Tower calls your name one late afternoon and by the time you all manage to walk up, the sun is setting below the horizon. There are couples around Heeseung who are taking photos left and right, one of which asks him to take a few pictures for them. He can’t help but wish he was in their place, asking a stranger to take a photo of the two of you as he kisses the apple of your cheek. Heeseung snaps a few good ones before the couple thanks him. 

It doesn’t help that you look like a walking goddess. Truth be told, Heeseung wanted to buy you more than just coffee when the boys agreed to each give you something as a token of their gratitude. Heeseung had come up with a list of ideas he wanted advice for, but it was Sunghoon who’d told him to keep it simple for your sake. He was right, as always, because you thanked him with a pleasant smile instead of ignoring him like you had in the days prior. Heeseung gets the feeling that you wouldn’t appreciate a grand gesture from him right now.

He hates that he can’t read you like he used to. He hates that the other friends know you better than he does, and he hates that he’s in the City of Love and he can’t call you his girlfriend. 

Riki and Jungwon are more perceptive than they let on. Heeseung sees the way their eyes dart between the two of you and how they’ve been trying their best to navigate the new dynamic. Riki, especially, hadn’t been receptive of Seulgi the first time Heeseung invited her to a bonfire. Heeseung had overheard the younger boy telling Jungwon it wasn’t the same without you there and that he’d rather go home than spend another minute getting to know someone who wasn’t you. 

At the time, Heeseung was beyond irritated and refused to speak to Riki for the rest of the night. Now, however, he understands why Riki acted the way he did. 

You look so beautiful underneath a Parisian sunset. Heeseung knows he’s staring. He’s grateful that you’re too preoccupied with Sunghoon taking photos of you. But God, he wishes you’d laugh at him like that. 

“You should talk to her,” Jake says from beside him. Heeseung jumps at his sudden appearance. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I want to.” Heeseung says it out loud for the first time. He wants to work it out with you and get his best friend back in whatever way you’ll allow. “I miss her, Jake. I miss being her friend and I fucked up when I rejected her.” 

Heeseung doesn’t notice Jake’s eyes widen at the sudden admission. Jake had his fair share of theories and considered Heeseung to be his best friend, but even he knew there was a limit about what he was willing to share and what he kept to himself. Heeseung’s friendship with you was something he stopped trying to learn a few years after he got to know you; Heeseung had a soft spot for you and had no problem letting people know that. It wasn’t until you mentioned to Jake that you hadn’t spoken to Heeseung in months that he knew something was up. 

“She clearly cares about you,” Jake says. “She wouldn’t be on this trip if she didn’t.”

“But she’s been ignoring me the past three days. And before you say it, yes, I know that she has a valid reason to, but I’m hurt and I want to make things better.”

“You have to let her take the reins and let her talk to you when she wants to,” Jake advises. “You know how she is. Y/N’s headstrong and she might not know how she feels right now, but she always knows what’s best for her. You’re good for her, Heeseung. Let her come to that conclusion on her own.”

Heeseung relinquishes his breath. “You’re right. I just…miss her. A lot. Things will never go back to the way they used to but I don’t think I want them to. I used to pray every night that I could somehow make everything like it was before that night but now I want more than that. She deserves better and I want to be better for her, not that coward who was too scared to try something new with the person he loves.” 

His friend’s words bring a smile to Jake’s lips. “Well I, for one, believe in you. I think the rest of the guys do too.” 

“I know,” Heeseung says softly with his eyes on you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

You can’t believe you leave Europe in two days as you sip your wine. Jay’s father was gracious enough to reach out to his friend at the hotel’s restaurant to negotiate having this meal compensated. It’s a gesture you hold onto and make a mental note to write a thoughtful note when you settle back in Korea. Jay sits next to you and partakes in the wine activities with you, namely picking out two different bottles to share with the table. Talking to Jay like this makes you feel otherworldly, like you’ve gotten more experience out of life since you chose to study abroad. You feel lucky, in a sense, that your life has given you more than you expected it too. 

The younger boys head upstairs after dessert and bid you all a goodnight in case they don’t see you before falling asleep. For the next thirty minutes or so, it’s the five of you laughing away at the hotel bar like old times, reminiscing about embarrassing moments from high school or how difficult it was to hear Jake’s Korean when he first moved. 

The Australian leaves as soon as he yawns. Sunghoon, a little too tipsy upon standing from the bar table, presses a gentle kiss to your head when he says goodnight to the rest of you. Jay gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and you understand for the first time that he always knew you better than he let on. He says goodnight and tells the bartender to charge his room whenever you two close the tab. 

Now, you and Heeseung are sitting together, mere inches apart as the Parisian sky twinkles with stars above the two of you. 

Neither of you know what to say. You fidget with the glass and contemplate on whether you should head up as well. Heeseung can sense your awkwardness and wish he hadn’t messed things up so badly that you can’t stand to be alone with him without thinking of an escape plan. He misses when the two of you could sit in complete silence and still feel comfortable around one another. 

“Thank you for showing us around,” he speaks up before you can make the decision to leave. “I remember you talking about all of the places you showed us when you first moved here. I’ve always wanted to visit.” 

“Really?” 

Heeseung nods. “I used to be so jealous that you got the opportunity to travel abroad every time you talked about it. But I think I like it better this way, with you as the tour guide.” 

That brings a laugh out of you and Heeseung can’t help but smile. He doesn’t care if it’s the alcohol allowing your walls to come down. He’s grateful for the chance. 

“I used to write down places I wanted to show you,” you confess. “There were so many places that reminded me of where we’d used to hang out as kids. It always felt like there was a part of you with me.” 

His heart melts. “I wish I could’ve visited you while you were here. Your friends seem pretty cool.” 

“They are.” Heeseung watches you smile. “They’ve been with me through a lot and helped me get over this fear of failing in a different country. My friend Suki, who now lives in Tokyo, was the first person to really get me out of my shell and convinced me to go out. Awkward Y/N? Going to clubs?” 

“You know how to dance, though. I bet you killed it.” 

“A little too much, perhaps. I didn’t date or hook up much, but there were a few times that I did.” Heeseung’s heart begins to sink as does his hope. This is not where he wanted to lead the conversation but his ears perk up at your next point. “But I wasn’t happy doing that so I stopped making out with random guys on the dance floor.”

“If only thirteen-year-old you could see you then,” he teases. You bump his shoulders with yours and he feels electricity running down his arm. 

“I think I did a good job adjusting and learning. There were times where I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing with my life because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay in London or go back to Seoul. That burden felt too much.” 

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back home.” 

Your head whips to look at Heeseung, who can only sit and watch as your eyes begin to water. 

“Why didn’t you say anything when I texted and called you?” you ask meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you see me when I came back?” 

“I know.” He gulps. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry.” 

You sniffle and Heeseung wants to cry too. “Everyone came to pick me up at the airport. I kept looking for you but you weren’t there. Jake had to pull me away from baggage claim because he said you weren’t coming but I didn’t listen. I told him he was wrong. You always come.” 

Heeseung’s soul breaks with every crack in your voice and with the way your lips quiver. He sees your mascara beginning to smudge and resists the urge to wipe it away so that your eyes may look fresh and dry. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I have no excuse.” 

“I wanted my best friend but you never showed up for me. You didn’t call or text me when you knew I was home and I had to wait until Riki’s bonfire to see you.”

“I was an idiot and stupid,” is the only answer Heeseung can come up with. “I used to be so scared of change. You left the country and I had to start thinking about what I wanted to do with my life but it was so hard without you in it.”

“Then why did you leave me?” 

His heart shatters. 

You’ve turned away from him in an attempt to walk back to your hotel room. However, Heeseung has learned his lesson. He doesn’t let you stray too far and gently tugs your wrist to pull you into his chest and is surprised when you don’t fight him off of you.

He doesn't care that your tears have stained his shirt or that you’re hiccupping into his clothes. All Heeseung wants to do is let you know he’s here for you now, despite his past mistakes and clouded judgment. Heeseung loves you for your bravery and vulnerability. He can only hope you understand that. 

“Let’s go to your room, yeah? I can help you take your makeup off.”

Whether from the alcohol or your need to be near Heeseung, you let him guide you to the elevator. He digs in your purse for your room key and coaxes you to sit in the bathroom while he locks the door. This routine feels a bit familiar; in his youth, he learned how you like to take your makeup off and get ready for bed after a particularly rough night drinking. He could never understand why he hadn’t minded taking the extra step and to keep himself sober when you were in the vicinity, but he understands it now. 

Heeseung meets you in the bathroom and washes his hands before putting your hair in a ponytail. He bites his lips when he sees your fresh tears and mutters another apology, forcing himself not to wipe away the tears with his fingers. Instead, he lets you blot them with a tissue before gathering makeup remover in his hands and gently smears it all over your skin. 

“I didn’t like change,” he says after a quiet beat. “I was too cowardly to take what I wanted, even if the person I wanted said they wanted me too. I don’t know why I didn’t chase after you that night or why I thought you needed space before you left. I don’t have an explanation for any of it except to say that I was a coward who never wanted anything to change between us.” 

Heeseung warms a wet cloth and wipes the balm away until he’s satisfied and moves on with your favorite cleanser, rubbing it between his hands until it foams. 

“I think, deep down, I’ve always loved you more than I led on. I can’t think of any moment in my life where you weren’t there or times that I didn’t want you around. Even when we were in elementary school and everyone kept saying we would get cooties from each other, I wanted you with me.” 

He lets you wash your face and applies the rest of your products on as you once taught him. 

“I’ve always had this sense of pride when it came to being your friend. Everyone always talked about how cool you were because you always knew what to say and when to say it. I love that about you, you know. You have a way of making people feel like they’re really special. I don’t know why I was so afraid of that.

“I love who you are and what you believe in. You make the world a better place for everyone around you. How you treated me was a small fraction of why I love you. I love your passions and that you aren’t afraid to chase after them. I love that you stick with the same boba order even though you tell yourself you’ll try something new. I love that you hate the beach but go with us every time we ask. I love when you get a little drunk because you don’t fight me when I want to take care of you.”

Heeseung swallows. “But mostly, I just really love you.”

You open your eyes for the first time. Heeseung can only stare. 

“You really hurt me.” 

He glances down. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“What hurt the most was knowing you weren’t going to be there as my best friend, Heeseung. I could handle your rejection. I could find a way to get over you. But I could never get over losing our friendship. I never wanted you out of my life because it’s better with you in it.” 

“Please don’t get over me,” Heeseung croaks. His own eyes begin to swell and he forces a choked sob down his throat, aggressively wiping his eyes to rid himself of tears. He presses his forehead against yours. “I don’t want you to get over me.” 

You don’t say anything for a few moments. Heeseung swears he feels the blood rushing to his ears as he anticipates your response and he’s sure that even if what you say isn’t what he wants to hear, he’s happy to wear his feelings on his sleeve for once in his life.

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.” 

Heeseung’s heart stops beating. He doesn’t kiss you even though he wants to. He doesn’t take your hand and pull you into him like his heart tells him to. Instead, he whispers a quiet thanks and is surprised when he hears you laugh. 

“I can’t apologize enough. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do or say anything.” 

“I know,” you whisper. Heeseung's hands are dangling awkwardly by his side. He feels like pushing his forehead against yours was too much. But your hands reach for him and you give him a squeeze.  

Heeseung throws caution out of the window and envelopes you in a hug. He feels your body melt against his and can’t help but look at the way you’ve folded into his chest in the bathroom mirror, with your head in his neck and his cheek on the crown of your head. Heeseung missed holding you like this–with your bodies intertwined as if you were two soulmates who were forced apart upon creation. 

He stroked your back with his hand and kept the other secured around your waist. Your soft breaths touch his skin and it feels like he’s got electricity running through his veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers again. “I will keep apologizing until you know the depth of my regret.” 

The boy feels like he’s floating when you press a soft kiss to his exposed chest, mentally thanking Jake for forcing him to let loose and unbutton a few. 

“You could start by staying with me until I fall asleep,” you say. “Like old times.” 

He tries not to punch the air. “I can do that.” 

Heeseung waits in the bathroom until you’ve changed into comfortable clothing. He isn’t surprised when he sees you in shorts and an oversized shirt. It’s reminiscent of what you used to wear when you’d sleep in the guest bedroom in his house or vice versa, but now that he’s acknowledged his feelings for you, he can’t help but coo at how cute and sleepy you look. 

You tuck yourself in bed with the blankets to your chin and he completely melts to the floor. You pat the spot next to him and he sits on top of the blankets. 

“Under the covers, silly.” 

“I don’t want to rush it,” Heeseung says in a panic. 

“We aren’t rushing. We’re two best friends who got each other back.” 

Heeseung has never been more relieved. Though, he knows you’re a stickler for outside clothes in bed, so he makes the decision to take your key card and change.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says when he notices you rise from your spot on the bed. He holds two key cards to prove it and leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to change and then I’ll be right back. I promise.” 

He comes back ten minutes later. It warms your heart at the sight of him and you feel the comfort in your body when he slides underneath the covers. 

You surprise yourself when you move to lay your head on his chest with your arm around his body. Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind, though, and he pulls you closer to him like you’ve done it a million times before. The two of you have wanted this for too long to make it feel awkward. 

“What did Jake say when you came into the room?” you ask.

“He was half asleep until I turned the light on but he asked me if we resolved things. I told him yes and then he asked if I was staying the night with you when he saw me leaving.”

“Am I right to assume he was more excited about having the room to himself?”

Heeseung laughs. “That you are.”

“Deep down, I think Jake knew we’d find our way. I think they all did.” 

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers once more. You quiet him with a kiss to his cheek. 

“I know, Hee. We can talk more tomorrow. For now, let’s sleep.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, Heeseung wakes up before you do and frowns when your body’s all the way on the other side of the bed. He leans over your sleeping frame and brushes strands of hair from your face, admiring how serene you look in your sleep. For a moment, Heeseung ponders if it’s too soon to wake you up the way he’d like to, but if last night was any indication about how you felt, he’d be willing to take the chance. 

He leans down to kiss your forehead and both of your cheeks repeatedly until your eyes flutter open. Heeseung thinks he could listen to your laugh every morning with the way you wince at the sunlight and how his lips touch your skin. Still, your gaze finds its way to Heeseung’s and you can’t help but smile. 

There was a brief moment before you fell asleep that you’d wondered if you’d been too quick to forgive him. But for as hurtful as the past year was, you can’t help but acknowledge the steps he took during the trip in an attempt to undo all of the contempt you had built for him. You owe it to yourself to be happy with Heeseung. 

“Good morning, pretty girl,” Heeseung says with his morning voice that sounds a little too good for seven in the A.M. “Did you sleep well?”

“Slept like a baby. I feel like one too.”

“That’s because you are a baby,” Heeseung teases, kissing your cheeks and then the tip of your nose. “My baby.” 

“I really want breakfast but I’m too lazy to get up from the bed.”

“We could always order in. I’ll pay.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be too tempted to stay in bed and it’s our last full day in Paris. Let’s just get ready and have breakfast at the hotel restaurant?” 

The both of you are halfway done eating breakfast when the rest of your friends trickle in, joining your table and the ones next to you. It takes them a while to wake up, but it’s Sunghoon who speaks up first. 

“I’m assuming you two talked?” 

“And made up,” you say with a tilt of your head. 

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says proudly, sipping on his coffee. 

“I’ll let that slide since we’re all friends,” Heeseung jokes. You laugh and, for the first time in a while, you don’t feel guilty about it. 

“I had the whole room to myself, too. I woke up and didn’t have to fight anyone for the bathroom,” says Jake. 

Riki nearly spits his juice out. “You guys slept together?” 

“Not like that!” you’re quick to exclaim. “He just slept over. Slept. As in, we closed our eyes and actually slept.” 

“Both of us knew we needed our beauty sleep before dealing with the six of you asking us questions,” Heeseung adds. “But for your information, we made up. We still have things to figure out, but we’re back to being friends.” 

“Hopefully more than that,” Jungwon coughs behind his coffee. He merely smiles when Heeseung looks in his direction.

“I think you two should spend the rest of the day by yourselves,” Jay suggests. “We can either meet up for dinner or whenever we have to check out.” 

“I second that,” Sunoo agrees. “You two clearly need to talk.” 

“I wanted to go shopping with Y/N again,” Riki says with a frown. Jake presumably knocks his shin with Riki’s, who clears his throat. “But you two should totally hang out without us.” 

“I think we might,” Heeseung says, holding his hand out for you to take. He stands from his seat and encourages you to stand as well, leading you away from the table. “Thanks for the breakfast, Jay!” 

“I’m choosing to be the bigger person because Y/N’s been through enough,” Jay mutters when Heeseung is out of hearshot, making the table laugh.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

“You know, I think the reason why I had such a hard time reaching out was because we’d never gotten into something that serious before,” Heeseung admits. The gelato in your hand isn’t as good as you remember it, but it does the job to cool you down on a particularly warm afternoon. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you remember when we were kids and how hard it was for me to talk to you about anything that was action movies or superheroes?” 

“God, you and your Superman cape from fourth grade,” you snort. “You wore that thing to school everyday. Your dad had to wash it every night otherwise you’d refuse to go to sleep.” Heeseung shuts his eyes at the memory. 

“You were the only person I felt comfortable pouring my heart out to, you know. You were always the first person I called when I needed someone to talk to, but then I was the reason why you got hurt…I think part of me didn’t know if I was allowed to reach out to you.

“It’s a stupid excuse, I know. But when I heard you were coming back to Seoul a few weeks before you did, I couldn’t help but think about how many times I could’ve texted you.”

“Yeah, you could’ve.” Heeseung merely nods at your agreement. “We’ve been through a lot over the years, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

“I just wish I had come to this conclusion when it happened. I was so caught up in graduating and focusing on how I felt that I didn’t consider how you must’ve been dealing with all of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so selfish in my life.” 

“I think the time you refused to let me be friends with Jake because you said you needed friends aside from me was your second most selfish moment.” 

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Quit it. I was thirteen, okay?” 

Neither of you particularly care to do any sightseeing today. It feels nice to walk side-by-side without the company of your other friends. The juxtaposition of how you felt towards the beginning of this trip compared to how relaxed you feel surprises you a tenfold, but you suppose that comes with genuine apologies and forgiveness. 

You’re willing to admit Heeseung looks criminally good in black jeans and a striped button down. He wears his clothes so effortlessly yet still looks like he could’ve taken his wardrobe from a magazine. You’ve always found it a bit unfair that Heeseung always manages to look so cool without trying too hard. 

“You’re staring,” he mutters, looking at you from the corner of his eye as the two of you walk down a cobblestone street. 

“I’m not,” you lie. You turn your head to avoid his gaze, but Heeseung thinks he likes seeing you this shy. It’s new territory for him, one that he wants to explore. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Why did you forgive me so quickly?” Heeseung asks. “I appreciate it, I really do, but a big part of me feels like I don’t deserve that just yet.” 

It takes you a while to answer. Why did you forgive him as fast as you did? For a week and a half, being in close quarters with Heeseung made you feel nothing but anxious and on edge, so why were you able to allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him?

“I’ve always held onto the idea that you’re a good person,” you begin. “I’ve always admired that you intend to care for the people you love and make them feel like they have a place in your life. You’ve always made me feel safe, like I could run to you when things got too hard. 

“What you did was in poor taste, sure, but making bad decisions doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I know you, Hee. I know how you get when you’re faced with a difficult choice and how long it takes for you to come around. I was justifiably hurt but I think a part of me always knew you’d fix it somehow.” 

“I wish I could feel deserving of that kind of forgiveness.” 

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t feel like what I’m saying is true. I’ll admit that I shocked myself with how quickly I let my guard down with you…but you’re Heeseung. You've been my best friend since the first grade and you’re the boy I happen to have a really big crush on.” 

Heeseung bites his lips at your confession, willing himself not to be too forward as to kiss you in the middle of the street. He sees your bravery and the way you’ve put your heart directly in the palm of his hand, acting out of vulnerability even though the both of you knew he hurt you once before. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, Heeseung grabs your hands and locks his fingers with yours, squeezing three times to tell you he loves you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon comes and goes with little to no plan. Heeseung’s a bit worried that he hasn’t heard anything from the boys and he’s rendered shocked that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let the day take you where it may instead of finding the next spot to visit. 

As if on cue, Jay texts him with plans for the evening. 

jjongcaprio: 20:00, Pétrelle. It’s a five minute walk from the hotel

jjongcaprio: I made reservations for you and Y/N tonight. Don’t worry about me and the boys, just take her out on a romantic date 

jjongcaprio: The bill’s covered. The reservation’s under your name btw

heeseung: bro i cannot ask you to do this 

jjongcaprio: You don’t have to. You and I both know Y/N deserves to be wined and dined 

jjongcaprio: Plus I saw you looking at a few restaurants when we were on the train. I managed to pull some strings for you and got a last minute reservation for tonight

heeseung: thank you jay…i really don’t know what i’d do without you

jjongcaprio: It’s really not a problem, bro. Promise me that you’ll try to be happy with her. The guys and I are rooting for you two

“So,” Heeseung clears his throat as he looks up from his phone, “I think you and I should go out for dinner.” 

“Where are you thinking of going? I can text the others and see if they’re done sightseeing, or whatever it is they’re doing.”

“I mean just us two.” He stands awkwardly when you’ve turned your attention to him, his feet planted on the sidewalk beneath him as if that’ll help steady his beating heart. 

“Like a date?” 

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Like a date. I, Heeseung, am asking you out on a date. Tonight. At eight.” 

“I, Y/N, would love to go on a date with you. At eight.” 

The twinkle in your eye and your coy nature makes him feel like a teenager again. He leads you into the hotel and walks you to your door before stepping back as you step inside. 

“We’ve got an hour and a half before we need to leave. I’ll come by and then we can walk together. The restaurant is only a five minute walk, so you can wear those new heels I know you feel guilty buying.” 

“They’re really pretty though,” you rationalize. 

Heeseung nods. “Gorgeous, actually. Maybe you’ll be as tall as me if you wear them.” 

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” 

Heeseung bites his bottom lip as you disappear behind the door, locking eyes with you until you’re completely out of sight. Flirting with you like this is a completely new phenomenon for him. He’s only daydreamed about what you might say if he said something a little too suggestive or how you might act if he dedicated a wink in your direction. Heeseung had never considered that he’d be the one flustered, cheeks reddening to the point where he starts to feel shy. 

His nerves are endless as he picks out an outfit for tonight. Heeseung sends a quick text to his parents, who had pressured him into bringing nice clothes for a fancy dinner, and spends a few minutes updating them on the events of the past few days. His mother is pleased, to put it lightly, and sends a handful of emoticons to display her happiness. His father tells him words of encouragement before making Heeseung promise to bring you for dinner as his girlfriend, not just his best friend. 

With the last touch of his cologne, Heeseung looks at himself in the mirror and tries not to think too hard about how he looks. You’re Y/N, his best friend since he can remember, and you’ve seen him with snot dripping from his nose. 

“I look fine,” he says to himself in the mirror. “Y/N will like the look because your mom picked it out and we know those two agree on everything. Absolutely nothing to worry about.” 

Heeseung’s only regret is he doesn’t have a bouquet of flowers to present you with as he makes his way to your hotel room. He wipes his palms on his trousers and takes a deep breath before knocking on your door. 

When it opens, he’s met with the sight of you in a short black dress that hugs your hips to accentuate your body. The dress itself is an elegant, spaghetti strap number with a flattering neckline paired with jewelry that makes your skin appear to be glowing. Your heels match well with the dress you’ve chosen, so much so that Heeseung’s jaw drops when his eyes rake over your body. 

“Wow,” he mutters. “Just…wow.” 

“I’m not used to you being speechless,” you say mildly, closing the door behind you. 

“You look gorgeous,” he sputters. “I shouldn’t be seen with you tonight.” 

“You’re dramatic, Hee.” You give him a once over and Heeseung thinks he wouldn’t mind you checking him out as you please. “You look handsome as ever.”

He beams at the compliment and holds his arm out for you. 

“Shall we?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows the type of person you are and what you value, yet he still renders himself shocked when you allow him to take control of the evening. He knows you don’t need to have the expensive consequences that come with a first date or to be sipping the most luxurious wine to be happy, but Heeseung can’t help but feel like you deserve to feel as elegant as you look every once in a while. 

The host leads the two of you to a table with the most gorgeous view of the Parisian scenery. The twinkling stars paired with the dimly lit restaurant adds a romantic touch to the evening. Heeseung mentally thanks Jay for preparing wine recommendations so neither of you have to think too much about it. 

For a moment, he’s worried that he’s reached too far out of his depth. The fanciest thing Heeseung has ever done with you is eat ramen after prom in your best outfits because you both came to the conclusion that prom should be spent with someone you actually like. It’s funny in hindsight when he thinks about it now. 

You look so beautiful like this, allowing yourself to be taken care of by him. Talking to you over the table feels like you’re back in Korea before all that transpired. The food is impeccable and Heeseung thanks his lucky stars that he and Jay got it right. You sing praises left and right. 

Dinner ends much quicker than he’d like as the two of you finish dessert. The waiter tells him the bill has been taken care of and Heeseung sits in his seat awkwardly as you look out the window to see the view from outside. But he hears the live band in the background and sees a few older couples slow dancing from where he sits and makes up his mind. 

“Do you want to dance?” 

You pull your attention to him. For a moment, he thinks he’s asked the most absurd question known to man when he recalls all the times you refused to make a home on the dance floor until you’ve gotten at least four drinks in your system. 

You surprise him. 

“I’d love to, Hee.” 

The room disappears when he leads you to the dance floor. He mimics the other dancers and takes the lead, swaying your bodies back and forth to the melody of the music. You smell of vanilla and cinnamon, a scent so distinctly you that it makes him grin like a man in love. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you say against his neck. “I won’t lie when I say I feel like a princess.”

“That’s because you are a princess,” Heeseung says, kissing the top of your head. “You deserve to be treated like one.”

“I can’t believe you pulled this off so quickly. Don’t restaurants like these require reservations?”

He chuckles nervously. “About that…Jay helped me with the details. I was looking up restaurants to take you to if I got the chance before our trip ended. I guess he saw the list and chose the most romantic one out of the bunch.”

“I owe Jay a thank you.”

“We both do.” 

“I feel lucky to have people in my life who care about me this much,” you say. “I’m so happy you’re back in my life.” 

“I’m happy to be in it.” Heeseung squeezes your waist. “Deep down, it’s always been you that I’ve loved. There’s not a single person who makes me feel the way you do.”

“Yeah?” 

You feel him nod. “I’ll say it until you believe me. I’ll even yell it in this restaurant right now.” 

“Please don’t,” you laugh. “I believe you.” 

The sound of the melody overtakes the conversation. You feel Heeseung’s steady heartbeat as he expertly moves your bodies together on the dance floor. When you close your eyes, you think of this moment and how badly you want to commit it to memory, no longer in anguish over the tribulations of the past year. It feels nice to let go of your worries, even better that you have Heeseung back. 

“I really want to kiss you,” he murmurs under his breath. You pull your head back.

“Then you should kiss me.” 

Heeseung wastes no time and pulls you into him, one arm around your waist and the other behind your neck. His mouth finds yours when he decides he loves the taste of red wine on your lips. It feels poetic to be kissing you for the first time as you’re both dressed to the nines in the middle of Paris. To him, kissing you feels like a breath of fresh air and the start of something new. For you, kissing him feels like coming home. 

When he pulls back, you search for his eyes. 

“Take me back to the hotel,” you whisper. 

Heeseung feels his heart drop. 

“I’m sorry. We can go back now.”

You grip the collar of his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt when he moves. It’s only then that Heeseung sees the want in your eyes and the pure lust that clouds your pupils. 

“Take me back to the hotel.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

By the time your elevator reaches your floor, Heeseung’s dress shirt is completely unbuttoned with his toned chest exposed. You’re barely able to detach yourself from his mouth when he pushes you out of the contraption. Your hand reaches for his as you pull him towards your room, digging through your purse when you feel Heeseung’s lips on the back of your neck. 

“You look sexy in my jacket,” he mumbles, pressing wet kisses to your skin. 

“L-Let me find the key.” 

“So sexy.” His hands slide up the side of your body until he grips your waist. 

When the door opens, you pull Heeseung inside with you and lock it shut before pushing his dress shirt off of his body, exposing his muscular build and broad shoulders. You aren’t shy about hiding your lust, gazing all over his chest and abdomen as you feel your core drip with arousal. 

“I like it when you look at me like that,” Heeseung says. He reaches for your hand and places it on his chest. You take the liberty to glide your nails down his abdomen, feeling the way he tenses underneath your touch. 

“I’m really wet,” you say as you eye the tent that has grown in Heeseung’s pants. 

“Are you?” he asks. “You won’t mind if I check?” 

You shake your head and Heeseung takes that as a green light, his hands finding the soft fabric of your dress before pushing his hand underneath it. He whimpers when his fingers come in contact with your wet lips. It’s adorable, the way you push yourself against him to chase his lips while he fingers smear your wetness across the fabric of your panties. 

“Bed,” you mumble against his lips. 

He follows where you pull him, loving the way you take control when you push him onto the mattress. Heeseung distracts himself to catch his breath from the overwhelming sense of pleasure to realize that you’ve started to undo his belt buckle and take his hard cock out of his pants. 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want your cock in my mouth,” you plead, looking him in the eye. “Please let me.” 

You sit politely on your knees as you unbuckle Heeseung’s pants. His chest rises and falls in anticipation and he looks down at you to see that your mouth is watering at the sight of him. 

He’s already fully hard; he has been since you started unbuttoning his shirt in the elevator. You spit directly onto the tip of his cock and he bites his lip at the sudden contact before watching as you swipe your hand up and down himself. 

Heeseung doesn’t want to think about how you learned to do what you’re doing to him. He doesn’t want to think about the boys you’ve kissed or the people who got to see you like this before. What he does know, however, is he’s the only person from here on out who will see you on your knees if he can help it. 

Your mouth envelopes the head and Heeseung emits a short grunt. The tension between you two begins to slowly dissipate as you fit more of his cock inside of your mouth. Your tongue expertly traces every ridge and vein as you push your throat down onto him, causing Heeseung to put his palms on the mattress and throw his head back. 

You hum around him when he moans. He’s itching to put his hand behind your head but refuses the idea, letting you set your own pace. Heeseung watches as you switch your angle, sitting up to rest on your knees to push your head further down on him. He witnessed as you spread your legs, a choked moan coming from his throat in conjunction with a particular gag from your mouth. 

There’s spit everywhere. It’s trailing down your lips and connecting to his cock when you pull yourself from his body. It’s seeping to his pants and he’s about to speak up when your motion attaches itself to his sensitive balls, licking at its warmth while your hand strokes him from atop. 

“That’s it. Fuuuuck.”

He bucks his hips once and curses. Heeseung feels your mouth envelop one of his balls, the pressure of your mouth around it making him feel a kind of euphoria he didn’t know was possible. Your mouth moves to the other to give it the same treatment before retreating back to his cock. This time, your hand massages him from below as you suck on him. 

When you look up at him and wink, he decides enough is enough. 

“Baby,” Heeseung pants, attempting to push your head off of him. He thinks it’s so sexy that you’re turned on while giving him a blowjob. “Baby, please stop. I don’t wanna come yet.” 

You oblige and take your mouth off of him with a popping sound. You sit back and Heeseung stares at you through drooping eyelids in pure shock and amazement at how you’ve managed to pull him to a near orgasm as quickly as you did.

“Come here,” he beckons with his fingers.

He attaches his mouth to yours and pushes his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring the warm, wet walls you have to offer. Heeseung decides that he loves the feeling of your tongue against his and lets you suck on the muscle. 

You take your dress off to reveal sheer panties with nothing else on. Heeseung’s jaw drops at your beauty, but he also cannot believe how sexy his best friend’s body is. To him, you were sculpted from the hands of Aphrodite herself with great love and care. And it’s all for him.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, hovering over your body to press kisses to the valley of your chest. You let his hands roam and spread your legs to make room for him. 

Heeseung’s head travels back to your chest and you watch as he envelops your right nipple in his mouth. “Your tits are just perfect.” 

He makes a show out of it, hands cupping your breasts to massage them as his mouth works on you. He pushes your tits together and shoves his face between them, inhaling your scent while his tongue gathers whatever taste your body gives him. Heeseung moves to your left nipple and uses his tongue to flick the hardened bud over and over again until you’re arching your chest into his mouth. 

He grinds himself into your core with his pants still loose around his legs. It brings a moan out of your throat and he swallows it whole with his lips pressed firmly against yours. The friction feels delicious with the fabric of your panties against the hardness of Heeseung’s cock. He grinds against you with the help of your hips rolling into his, your natural wetness coating his cock in your essence. 

Heeseung moves his head to kiss your jawline, moving his mouth all over the expanse of your neck until he kisses right below your earlobe. You let out a particularly loud moan when he does, and Heeseung curses.

“Shit. Yeah baby, make those sounds for me. Let me hear your pretty moans.” 

His mouth attacks the area again and you aren’t shy about it. Your hands tangle in his hair as he kisses your neck and grinds his cock against the wet panties, which have by now molded to the shape of your pussy. 

Heeseung groans at the feeling of a particularly wet gush and lifts his hips enough to elicit a whimper out of your mouth. He experimentally lifts his hips again to align himself with you as he did before. The pressure must feel so good because your mouth hangs open with your eyes boring into his. 

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Does my baby feel good?” You can only nod and he doesn’t blame you. “That’s a good baby. Fuck, you’re so wet, it’s driving me crazy.” 

Heeseung feels your legs wrap around him and the way your heel pushes his lower back into your core. He takes the hint and quickens his pace, wanting nothing more than to see you come for him.

“You gotta come for me now, pretty girl,” he coaxed. “You deserve to come. Won’t you do that for me?” 

Heeseung is sure that he’s never seen or heard anything more erotic compared to the vision of watching you come. Your mouth opens with breathy moans as you focus on your pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut as if you’re trying to savor the moment in your mind.

“Atta girl,” Heeseung praises when your hips grind into his. He keeps himself still and lets your body take over. 

You eventually come down and realize Heeseung has yet to come, but that’s the last thing on his mind. He sinks his body down to come face-to-face with your crotch and licks the come off of the soiled fabric of your panties. The sheerness gives him a sneak peek at your pussy, and he groans when he licks a slow, fat strip up your slit.

“You taste so fucking delicious, baby.” He licks at you again, faster this time. “Tastes like milk and honey.” 

Heeseung kisses your wet panties over and over again, his soft lips providing jolts of pleasure. His hands roam around the soft flesh of your thighs and squeezes them as if he remembers you’re all his to touch. The feeling is one you want to commit to memory, but it seems like Heeseung knows your mind is working overtime because he reaches his hand to find yours and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

You let his hand go when he pulls it from you to slide the useless barrier down your legs and to undo the straps of your heels. He takes great care to kiss your skin tenderly, starting by your ankle and making his way down just shy of where you need him the most. Heeseung repeats the process on the other leg until he comes face to face with your glistening core, licking his lips as if he doesn’t know where to start. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your clit.

He repeats the motion, kissing your folds like they’re delicate antiquities that need to be handled with the utmost care. His lips become covered with your essence; he feels you squirm underneath him and uses the expanse of his palms to gently pry your legs open for him, soothing the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

Heeseung tentatively licks your slit and decides he loves the sound of your moans when he has his mouth on you. He does it again, dragging his tongue to feel every ridge and crevice that he’s yet to explore. His mouth feels like a warm comfort with the slow pace he sets, licking you as if he’s trying to tell you how much he loves you without saying it. 

“You taste divine.” 

You look down below to see his hair covering his eyes and brush it away with your hands. Heeseung looks right into your soul and you feel your heart clench, causing you to roll your hips into his face. He merely buries his nose close to you until he bumps your clit with the tip, pushing his wet muscle into you deeper. 

When your moans get lighter and your breathy sounds are the only audible thing in the room aside from his own moans. You open your eyes to see Heeseung humping the mattress below you. The sight is so erotic that you can’t help but let out a loud whine at the thought of Heeseung pleasuring himself while pleasuring you. 

He brings his fingers to your pussy and sways his fingers back and forth until he foregoes his slow pace, favoring a faster one. He abuses your swollen clit while you can only lay there and watch him play with you. Heeseung expertly inserts his middle finger into your seeping hole and bites his lip to concentrate on getting you to come again. 

“I need it,” he confesses, bringing his mouth to lick you as he adds another finger. “I need you to come for me again, baby. Can you do that for me?’

“Yes, Hee,” you pant. “I wanna come so badly.”

“You can do it, baby. You’ve been such a good girl tonight, giving me the best head and letting me make you come. I think you deserve to feel good.” 

“I do,” you nod rapidly. “Fuck, I think I’m coming.”

“That’s right,” he coos, hammering his digits into you while his tongue laps up the juices leaking from your pussy. “So good. You taste so fucking good. Give it to me.” 

He doesn't relent until he’s satisfied. Heeseung cleans the come from your lips as best he can while sneaking his hand to his cock, pumping himself as he tastes your orgasm on his tongue. 

“You’ve crazy,” you mutter as you settle from your high, loving the feeling of Heeseung’s mouth tenderly licking you clean. 

“For you.” He pulls his face away and wipes the back of his hand before pressing a kiss to your clit. 

When he rises to take his pants and boxers off, he sees you with your arm covering your face. 

“Are you doing okay?” 

“Perfect, actually,” you sigh. You remove your arm to see him with his cock in his hands and motion him to come towards the edge of the bed as you crawl on your knees before sitting upright to pull him into a searing kiss. 

“That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Heeseung says against your mouth. “It’s better than porn, if I’m being honest.” 

You grab his cock and stroke him. “I’ll consider letting you take a video of me when we get back home if you fuck me right now.” 

“Turn around,” he says after an open-mouthed kiss.

You follow his instructions and he groans to himself as you present your perfect pussy to him again. Heeseung sinks to his knees and smacks your ass before shoving his tongue into your hole. He spreads your asscheeks apart and digs his nose against you, licking up the wetness and remnants of your orgasm like it’s his last meal. His tongue licks up your body until he finds your wrinkled muscle and presses a soft kiss to your tightest hole. 

The surprise comes to him when you moan softly. Your body doesn’t jerk away. Rather, you spread your legs further for him and Heeseung moans against your pussy before bringing his tongue to lick over the muscle again. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, dipping his tongue back in.

“Better than I imagined.” 

“You imagined my tongue in your ass, baby?” 

You nod. “I’ve always wanted to know what that feels like.” 

Heeseung doesn’t give you a verbal answer. Instead, he spits into your hole and watches it dribble down to your pussy, licking his way from your incredibly wet folds to your hole once again. He licks over the expanse with the surface of his tongue one, twice, three times before you’re whining for his cock. He wastes no time tearing open the condom and hurriedly places it on himself. 

The first stretch of his cock in your pussy makes him see Heaven. The sharp gasp that comes from your mouth is music to his ears and he’s careful to sink himself into you slowly, inch by inch until you’re telling him he can go further. 

His cock impales you at such a perfect angle that it has you falling to your elbows, your back arched so perfectly that he’s sure you’d be the most popular pornstar if you really wanted to be. He keeps half of his cock in you to allow you to adjust, but he underestimates just how cock hungry you are because you back yourself until he’s filling you to the brim.

“Baby’s such a slut, isn’t she?” Heeseung wonders out loud. He grins when you nod. “I love you like that. So dirty for me.” 

“Only for you,” you say, cheek pressed to the mattress when Heeseung thrusts in you. 

The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. It doesn’t take long for your wet juices to glisten over the back of your thighs and onto Heeseung’s. His hands find purchase on your hips as he pulls your body close to him, loving the way your choked moans become muffled by the mattress below. 

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he moans with detailed thrusts. “So. Fucking. Wet.” 

He climbs on the bed and plants his feet on the blankets, holding your body in place as he pounds into you from above. The angle has you seeing stars and rips moan after moan from you. 

Heeseung grins wickedly. “Such a fuckable body. So perfect.” 

His degradation paired with praise ignites a fire inside of you. You can only moan louder to let Heeseung know exactly how he’s making you feel and you can’t help but think you deserved to be fucked exactly the way Heeseung is fucking you.

The pleasure feels like an explosion of a thousand suns. Your body is warm from the hours you’ve spent in the hotel room and your neighbors getting a good night’s sleep is the least of your concerns. Heeseung’s cock drills into you from above like he’s a sex god and it nearly brings you to tears. 

He turns you over carefully until you’re laying flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. He steals one from you and puts it underneath the small of your back to create leverage before lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing himself in again.

Heeseung thrusts like he’s got to prove just how in love with you he is. Your wanton moans fill the room with his low grunts as his cock continually hits the one spot that makes you see stars, over and over again.

But you know he could do more to make you feel better. He must notice you in deep thought because he slows his hips. 

“What is it, baby?” Heeseung asks when he notices your eyebrows knit together. “Is this okay? Do you need me to stop so we can take a break?”

“Take it off,” you whisper. His hips have faltered and his pace stutters at your words.

“Take what off?”

“The condom.” Heeseung nearly chokes. “Take the condom off.” 

“Baby—”

“I just wanna feel you.” 

Heeseung curses and his hips automatically drill into yours at the request out of pure shock. He can’t lie to himself. He’s thought about it multiple times since you left for Europe and as he’s come to term with his feelings for you. The cute fantasies about taking you on dates to dinner or drive in theaters transform into daydreams about dirty affairs in his bedroom with his seed leaking out of your perfect hole. 

Still, he doesn’t believe it.

“Please, Hee,” you plead, arching your chest towards him. “Let me feel you. Don’t you want to come inside me?”

“Fuck,” he falters, his forehead on yours. “You can’t just say that…I can’t be risky with you.” 

“Yes you can.” He watches you bite your lip and feels your hands push him off of you. Heeseung doesn’t put up a fight when he slips out of your warm hole and feels your hands grip his cock, desperately trying to tug the condom off of him. 

Heeseung sees the pathetic rubber in your hands when you bring it up for him to see. It’s glistening and his mouth drools at the sight, lips parting enough as if he stares at it in disbelief. He groans lowly in your ear as he peppers a few wet kisses to your neck. 

You spread your legs wider in the air and grip his cock in your head, pumping him a few times before letting his bare tip rest against your hole. His sharp intake is enough to make you bite your lip. 

“Pussy’s so wet,” he says against your neck, pushing an inch inside of you. “God, I could come like this.”

“You can.” 

“No, baby. Gonna fuck you the way you deserve before I come.”

With that sentiment, Heeseung pushes himself inside of you until he’s fully sheathed within your walls. He relishes the way you gasp at the sudden movement and he uses this angle to his advantage, positioning his ear next to your mouth to hear your delicious sounds. 

He moves his hips at such a pace that it makes you feel like your body’s bouncing on top of the soft mattress below you. Heeseung presses his chest against yours to kiss you like his life depends on it, tongue invading the privacy of your mouth but you couldn’t care less where his mouth goes. He can feel your nipples on his skin and groans into your mouth when you clench at a particularly hard thrust. 

“S-So good,” you stutter against his mouth with a breathy moan. Heeseung feels your arm around his shoulders, scratching at his back. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mhm,” he coaxed. “Such a good baby. You look so pretty underneath me.” 

With a new sense of purpose, Heeseung lifts himself to push himself into you at a deeper angle. He forces his hips into you harder, your hands coming to your chest to cup your tits to give you something to hold in the meantime.

“That’s right, beautiful. Squeeze your tits for me.” 

You do, pinching and twisting your nipples until you hear Heeseung moan above you. It sounds nearly animalistic, the way his throat emits a groan that sounds so primal. He sees the dirty smile you paint your mouth with and leans his head down to press a kiss to your forehead before his hand comes to your cheeks, squeezing them between my fingers.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” Heeseung asks, hips rolling against your own pelvis. When you nod, he gives you a nasty smile of his own and gives you a few harsh thrusts for good measure before pulling himself off of your chest with his cock still inside of you. 

Heeseung sits on his knees and pulls out just far enough where his hot tip remains buried inside of you, relishing in the panty breaths you emit as he watches your chest rise and fall. You look so beautiful to him with your hair messed up against the pillow beneath you and with a few faint hickeys on your chest and neck. Heeseung thinks that all of his wildest dreams could never compare to how gorgeous you look when you’re positioned directly where he wants you. 

You don’t complain when he pulls out to rest his cock on your wet, bare pussy. You wince at the loss and let him slide himself up and down, biting your lip when he grazes your swollen clit over and over again. 

The man above you lifts your right leg so that he can grip you tighter. You relinquish any control left in your body as Heeseung curses and kisses the side of your ankle. He dips the head of his cock inside and thrusts shallowly as if to tease, but you know he’s exploring all the way his cock looks like against your own body. 

It feels euphoric. The whole affair is dirty, but it’s the kind of dirty that makes you want to do it again. It’s the kind of dirty that makes this night an event you’ll want to remember for the rest of your night because Heeseung had poured his entire heart and soul for you to take. 

For Heeseung, this pleasure is less about knowing you have him permission to put himself inside you. You’ve always been so sure of yourself and your body; it’s something Heeseung has always admired about you as a person. Growing up with your insecurities of relationships and dating might’ve made you feel like a late bloomer; to Heeseung, your tendency to keep your head straight has always been a testament to how knowledgeable you are about yourself and about others. You save yourself for people who are worthy of you, and god, does he want to be worthy of you.

“I love you,” Heeseung whispers from above you. His eyes are closed and he pays no mind to the feeling your pussy gives him. Flashes of your memories stitch together like a film reel with your laughter as the soundtrack. He doesn’t think he wants to hear anything else for the rest of his life. 

Just for good measure, he whispers it again. “I love you so much.” 

“And I love you.”

Heeseung opens his eyes to see your tender ones, cheeks flushed from the sudden compliment. He always liked that he knew how to get you to blush when no one else couldn’t. This time, a sense of pride blooms in his chest. 

“I’ll never let you down,” he confesses. “And if I do, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” 

“I know, baby.” Heeseung’s hand cups your cheek and caresses it. “I trust you.” 

That’s enough for him to release your leg from his grip and pound himself into you like his life depends on bringing you to peak happiness. 

Heeseung’s palms are planted firmly on either side of your body as his hips roll gracefully against yours, the hot, wet mess between the two of you splashing on both of your thighs. He watches your eyes close shut and as your back arches to relieve some of the pressure, feeling somewhat proud of himself when he watches as your hands grab at the sheets for stability. 

There’s nothing that compares to watching you orgasm. Your eyebrows knit as if you’re concentrating while your mouth stands slightly ajar at the euphoric feeling of that single knot that’s threatening to come undone until it does. All of the girls he’s deluded into thinking he liked could never compare to the looks and sounds you’re making. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes softly. “Cream my cock, baby. That’s a good girl.” 

Heeseung feels you push and clench around him, gushing until there’s nowhere left for your come to go. He peeks down at where the two of you meet and groans when he sees his cock becoming painted in a sheer layer of white. It edges him on and the moment he locks his eyes with yours, his hips begin to stutter and he spills all he has to offer inside of you. 

He comes with short breaths as if he can’t believe you’ve allowed him to do so. Your hips move up and down as if to milk him for all he’s worth while Heeseung’s trying his best to balance his body on top of yours, grateful that some of his gym workouts prevent him from completely collapsing on top of you to.

His come seeps from your bodies and he pulls out, a few droplets splattering on your pussy lips. He nudges the tip against it, smearing his paint across your canvas and marveling at the sight. 

“My good girl,” he murmurs, eyes locked in at his handy work.

“I’ve never let anyone come inside of me,” you say with a fond expression. Your arm comes to brush Heeseung’s hair from his face before cradling his cheek when he looks at you in surprise. 

“Really?” 

You nod, biting your cheek. “Well, I always knew you were it for me. I didn’t want anyone else tainting what’s yours.” 

“Mine?” he asks, catching his breath. “You mean it? You’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Hee.” 

“All mine,” he mutters to himself in disbelief. 

You still feel his cock working itself against you. He’s still hard, a wonder after your hours locked away in your hotel room. It makes you laugh.

“No one has ever compared to you either,” Heeseung says. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he continues toying with your pussy. “Even when I fooled myself into thinking I didn’t like you.”

You laugh. “Well that’s good to hear. I realized all the guys I went after while I was abroad either looked like you or reminded me of you.” 

“I can confidently and stupidly say the same.” 

Your laughs echo through the room. Heeseung pulls your body upright, not caring that your mixed come is leaking on his cock and his bare lap. He kisses you with tender care, lips moving at a slow pace while his hands roam over the expanse of your back while your hands are on his broad shoulders. Heeseung could live like this everyday if you’d let him. 

You smile midway through when you feel his fully hardened cock against you. Heeseung apologizes quietly against your lips but feels you shake your head, pulling back to push him against the headboard until he’s comfortably seated. 

He looks at your pussy when you hover above him, the white cream still sticking to you as you grip his cock. Heeseung can’t believe his eyes when he understands what you’re about to do. Before he can even think, you align yourself with his cock and sink until you’re stuffed with him.

“Shit,” he curses through his teeth. 

“What good is coming inside of me if you don’t do it again and again, Hee?” 

“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

You don’t move just yet, opting to press small kisses to Heeseung’s face. You kiss his forehead, both temples, his nose, both eyelids, and the apples of his cheeks before placing a kiss to his lips. 

“Before we leave, I want you to fuck me against that window,” you say, turning your head to the window that glimpses the city below. 

“But people can see,” is Heeseung’s first comment.

“So?” 

He chokes and when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, you can’t help but laugh at him.

“I’ve heard talk about your escapades, Lee. Why so shy with me?” 

He smacks your asscheek. “Naughty girl. Didn’t know you were nasty like that.” Heeseung gives you that kind of teasing smile that has you folding for him all over again. “Alright then, humor me. What else do you want to do before we leave?” 

“I’d love to give you a blowjob while we shower, too.” 

“That can certainly be arranged. Anything else?” 

You look around the room. “I kind of want to see you eat me out while I sit on the desk chair. Makes me think you’re some kind of secretary who’s desperate for my pussy.”

“I am desperate for your pussy,” Heeseung reminds you. “What if I’m the stone cold CEO and you’re the cute secretary whose ass I dream about?” 

You swat his chest. “This is my fantasy. You can have yours when we get home.” 

Heeseung raises his eyebrow. “Mm, you sure?”

“Positively,” you nod. Heeseung’s hands travel from your ass to your hips and guides you up and down his cock, letting you set the pace after the brutal first round from a few minutes prior. 

“Gonna fuck you in and on my car, since you like being watched so much,” Heeseung teases. His words seem to make your pussy clench and hips move faster. He forgoes any shyness when speaking about his fantasies and spills his every thought.

“I always thought you looked so cute in your old school uniform. I’ve always wanted to take you in that skirt they gave you.”

“I’ll buy one of those sexy schoolgirl costumes and surprise you for your birthday,” you say, locking your eyes with him. “Oh, professor! Is there anything I can do to raise my grade?”

Heeseung laughs at your antics, but the images of you in the costume aforementioned makes his grip on your body tighter. 

“I selfishly want to watch you suck me off while I play with the guys.” He says it in a way that makes him avert his gaze and you can see a faint blush on his face. “I-I saw this video on Twitter. It looks hot.”

“I can do that for you.” You kiss both of his burning cheeks.

“But mostly, I just want you to sit on my face. Mad at me? Sit on my face. Sad? Sit on my face. Happy to see me? Sit on my face.” 

“Simp,” you grunt, thighs burning from pushing yourself on and off of Heeseung’s cock. 

“And proud.” He smacks both ass cheeks again. “Now what do you say, baby? If you ride me until you come, you can blow me in the bathroom before I fuck you in front of the entirety of Paris. Can you do that for me?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, you meet Heeseung and the rest of the guys in the lobby while Jay checks out on behalf of all of you. Jake’s the first to see you coming. 

“You’re glowing and I don’t know if I like that.” He raises his eyebrow at Heeseung, who has pulled you into him by your waist. 

“At least some of us are getting laid,” you retort. “I don’t recall seeing anyone do the walk of shame even though you had the room to yourself.” 

Riki and Sunoo don’t try to contain their laughter as Jake’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. He rolls his eyes when you look at him, but shakes his head and punches your arm with your first. 

“Nah, I’m really glad you two got that out of your system and worked it out.”

“You guys had major sexual tension,” Sunoo comments. 

“Thank God Y/N’s room was at the end of the hall,” says Sunghoon. “I don’t know how their neighbors felt but I can sleep peacefully knowing I didn’t have to hear all of that.” 

“Okay, enough,” Heeseung laughs. “We get it, we had a lot of sexual tension and now we’re fine.”

“So you guys are boyfriend-girlfriend?” Jungwon asks. 

“Y/N is my girlfriend and I am her boyfriend.” 

“I will key his car if he hurts you again,” Riki tells you, looking at Heeseung after he’s finished speaking. You detach yourself from his waist and bring your arms around Riki to give him a squeeze.

“Thanks, Riki.”

“Okay, we should call the cabs right now so we can get to the airport early,” Jay says from behind you. 

“Jay is such a dad,” Jungwon whispers. 

He pays no mind to Jungwon’s words, instead focusing on the way Heeseung pulls you into his chest. It warms his heart in ways he can’t explain.

“Congratulations, you two. Let’s go home.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

add yourself to my taglist !!

taglist: @baevsxii @lillotus17 @syzavxy @mrmld @nikilvrfvr.

[deusfoundry]

in retrospect, there's really no other way this night could've possibly ended.

zayne likes to think that he tried. that he had exercised as much restraint as he could. that the only reason he's got his lips on your skin, planting wet kisses that trails along the path of your collarbone, is because truly, he's been pushed to the brink of his self control.

but is he really to blame when you looked absolutely divine in that dress?

"z-zayne, we have to go ..."

your words fail to register in his mind, anything and everything but the tiny sounds you make enters one ear and slides right out the other. he almost feels bad now, the memory of how ecstatic you were when he'd invited you as his plus one to a banquet hosted by akso hospital three weeks ago flashes before him. how that excitement grew tenfold when you told him about the dress you'd bought to surprise him with.

and he certainly was surprised, pleasantly so, when the sight of your bare back greeted him as he entered his bedroom.

zayne stops in his tracks, feet feeling like they've been permanently rooted to the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

you're seated in front of the vanity table he'd put together for you. the size of it is nothing like the one you have at your apartment, but it shares a similar design, the same wooden accents. it's enough that you can get ready for anything without having to make a stop at your place. he'd bought it when you first began to spend the night at his apartment.

lately though, you've been spending the better part of each week in his place. zayne's been reminding himself to build up the courage to ask you to move in with him.

he's supposed to be used to this. to your back facing him. to your eyes lighting up when you catch sight of his figure through the reflection of your vanity mirror. to you pausing in the middle of your routine to turn around, greet him with that smile of yours that sends an ache in his heart.

but this damned dress.

he forces his feet off the floor to move towards you, his heavy footsteps catching your attention. you flash him a sheepish smile, your eyes flitting towards the jacket of his dress suit draped on his arm.

"have i been taking too long?" you ask, hurriedly dragging the tip of your eyeliner to your lids.

"no," zayne stalks close enough to place his hands on the back of your chair. he drinks you in, eyes casting downwards to the fabric pooling at your lower back. your hair is pulled up to a loose bun, fastened with a clip shaped into a snowflake, leaving your bare shoulders to view. he takes the thin strap of your dress betwixt thumb and forefinger, fighting the immense urge to pull the flimsy fabric off.

it's a losing battle, and zayne succumbs to his desires in a matter of seconds. he leans down, planting one tender kiss on the base of your neck.

he holds your gaze through the mirror as he releases his hold on the strap, letting it fall just above your elbow. he uses the same fingers to map out the scars littered on your back.

"no, you're alright."

"i'm-" your words get caught in a choke. "i'm almost done. why don't you wait for me here?"

"of course." zayne kisses your cheek before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. his eyes bore into you with an intensity that you can feel, enough to induce a tremble in your hands as you add the finishing touches to your make up.

"done!" you begin tidying up your table, placing the brushes back to their compartments. "just need to put my heels on."

"allow me." zayne very nearly bolts from the bed. he takes your heels by the straps from their place beside your vanity.

slowly, zayne kneels before you.

it's then that zayne notices another ... feature of your dress, discovering a slit that goes right up to your thigh. he freezes, hands ghosting your ankle, a field of smooth skin staring at him. possibly taunting him. definitely not helping his pants that seem to be growing tighter by the minute.

"love? are you okay?"

and you had the nerve to ask. surely, you must be aware of your effect on him by now?

"yes." he breathes out an apology, sucking the air through his nose as he slides your feet into the shoe. his fingers find the straps, wrapping them around and working up your leg the way he's watched you do so countless times before. he moves closer, reaching behind your leg to tie the straps together into what he hopes is a neat bow over your calf.

zayne repeats the process with your other shoe, but this time, he lets himself linger. lets his fingers run past your leg, over your knee, until they land on your thigh. lets them prod lightly at the flesh, encasing the muscle with his palm. lets himself lean down, low enough that from your point of view, it looks he's bowing to you.

he places a kiss, first over the strap of your heels that he's just worked on, the material an odd intrusion to his moisturized lips. then another, on your knee. and finally, his lips replace the palm on your thigh.

you shiver at the sudden loss of warmth, but you find soon enough that zayne never intended on keeping his hands away from you for long.

his hand glides further up, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress where it finds itself a home there.

zayne is too caught up in you, plush skin, enchanting perfume, this godforsaken dress, to hear your voice. he's only knocked out of his trance when he feels your hand cup his cheek.

"zayne?" he looks up, chin resting on your thigh. there's a flush to your cheeks, an obvious difficulty in the way you breathe. "we're going to be late."

he nods, pushing himself off the floor. he holds his hand out for you take and gladly, you slip your hand into his with a smile, using him as leverage to stand up.

zayne makes it about halfway through the living room before something in him snaps. he strides across his apartment, footsteps quick and erratic, almost tripping over his own feet.

you hear him from where you stood before his front door, turning around with the knob between your hand to ask him if he's okay. you get barely a word out of your mouth when zayne crashes his lips onto yours.

and that's how you find yourself now, pinned against the door of his apartment, clinging to his shoulders as your legs begin to go limp.

zayne kisses you everywhere, frenzied lips travelling from your neck, the exposed skin of your cleavage. he gives you not even a second to breathe before he's back on your lips. his hands behave similarly, squeezing at every inch of skin his fingers come across.

"i'm sorry." he sends a stream of warm air to your neck, nipping lightly at the skin. "it's just- you look so- god, it's this dress."

"the event-!" zayne cuts you off by sucking at your neck hard enough that it's bound to leave a mark.

"to hell with it."

you yelp when he cradles the back of your thighs to lift you up with ease. instinctively, you wrap your legs around his lower back, bringing him close enough that you can feel the bulge poking through his pants.

"the things you do to me..." zayne whispers over your lips. he eases your entire body into just one of hands, the other moving up to your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "god, you have no idea."

except, you think you know exactly what you do to him, when he starts making his way back to the bedroom, lips eternally attached to yours.

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you. 

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading. 

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now. 

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?” 

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class. 

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.” 

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording. 

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards. 

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing. 

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him. 

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.” 

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval. 

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room. 

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch. 

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.” 

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth. 

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag. 

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question. 

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.” 

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got. 

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English.  “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?” 

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.” 

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.” 

And they’re silenced immediately. 

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.” 

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?” 

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.” 

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert. 

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold. 

He doesn't like it one bit. 

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area. 

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner. 

A spark. 

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself. 

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm. 

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man. 

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.” 

That scared the shit out of him. 

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape. 

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him. 

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal. 

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him. 

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it. 

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars. 

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that 

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can. 

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving. 

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it. 

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero. 

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same. 

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you. 

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you. 

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby. 

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits. 

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project. 

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises. 

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago. 

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head. 

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.” 

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch. 

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line. 

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.” 

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response. 

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.” 

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.” 

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.” 

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.” 

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.” 

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. 

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.” 

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.” 

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.” 

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right? 

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM. 

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time? 

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes? 

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again. 

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark. 

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor. 

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy. 

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims. 

Bam. 

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed. 

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back. 

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon. 

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity. 

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.  

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle. 

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop. 

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory. 

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest. 

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up. 

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds. 

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time. 

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him. 

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this. 

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop. 

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein. 

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about. 

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text. 

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it. 

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy. 

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him. 

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?” 

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.” 

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” 

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend. 

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom. 

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.” 

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?” 

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision. 

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task. 

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves. 

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more. 

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?” 

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down. 

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.” 

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?” 

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning. 

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination. 

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish. 

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end. 

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag. 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break. 

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask. 

-

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?” 

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading. 

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things. 

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?” 

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-” 

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago. 

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his. 

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice. 

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.” 

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise. 

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight. 

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.  

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings. 

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists. 

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated. 

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.” 

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back. 

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle. 

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot. 

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance. 

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump. 

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse. 

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it. 

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist. 

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him. 

You. He still needs to save you. 

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him. 

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended. 

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement. 

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists. 

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action. 

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop. 

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” 

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait. 

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go. 

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind. 

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion. 

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” 

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.” 

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.” 

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.” 

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.” 

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?” 

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you. 

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?” 

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.” 

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?” 

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.” 

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit. 

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened. 

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?” 

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.” 

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?” 

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting. 

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.” 

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear. 

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs. 

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest. 

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain. 

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities. 

Until now. 

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.” 

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.” 

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too. 

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation. 

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.  

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?” 

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms. 

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly. 

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?” 

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?” 

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki. 

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are. 

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart. 

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain. 

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue. 

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out. 

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something. 

Nothing. 

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news. 

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago. 

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that. 

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something. 

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it. 

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two. 

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant. 

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night. 

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring. 

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away. 

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive. 

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him. 

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more. 

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge. 

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him. 

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan. 

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th 

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt. 

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down. 

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard. 

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm. 

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them. 

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead. 

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!” 

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks. 

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?” 

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge. 

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more. 

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop. 

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.” 

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions. 

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds. 

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.” 

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body. 

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach. 

Do not say it’s true. 

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass. 

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you. 

“Holy shit.” 

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony. 

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit. 

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips. 

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers. 

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing. 

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?” 

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint. 

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school. 

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet. 

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.” 

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel. 

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?” 

“Jake.” 

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response. 

 “I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze. 

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you. 

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed. 

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?” 

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.” 

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head. 

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.” 

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class. 

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly. 

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt. 

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things. 

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.    

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod. 

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.” 

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore. 

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.” 

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE. 

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest. 

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug. 

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach. 

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.” 

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out. 

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is  right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago). 

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand. 

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised. 

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain. 

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze. 

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!” 

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.” 

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.” 

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you. 

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe. 

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting. 

“I thought girls liked this.” 

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose. 

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?” 

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.” 

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him. 

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man. 

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration. 

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.” 

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

[ghouljams]

Nasty Dog

(cw: Fae!Soap x f!reader, pre-negotiated consent but not from you, groping, public sex, exhibitionism, dub-con oral(f!receiving), dub-con fingering, fae contracts)

The look you give your boss is nothing short of absolute malice.

Price does nothing but smile, before tossing the dress onto the bar and nodding at it more pointedly.

"Change." He orders.

"I'm not wearing that." You insist.

"Should've seen what he picked out first, be glad I talked 'im down." Price tells you; it doesn't make you feel any better. You still stare down the fabric on the bar and wonder if you could even consider that a dress or something closer to a long shirt.

An incentive, Price had called it, a reward for a job well done. You understand the concept, you just don't know why this has to involve you.

"He's gonna try to fuck me over the bar," You try appealing to reason. Price is a reasonable man, mostly, surely he wouldn't want his bartender unable to pour drinks.

"I'll keep hold of 'is leash." Price assures you. Somehow it isn't comforting. Not that you find anything about the man particularly comforting. He's a decent boss but no more trustworthy than any other fae you've dealt with. Still, if he says he'll keep Soap on a tight leash then that's what he'll do.

"Fine," You relent, "but if I even see his dick I'm quitting."

The threat holds no weight, you have a contract with these assholes, and you know better than to break it. Price still raises a brow, likely thinking the same thing. You grab the skimpy dress with a grumble and go to one of the back rooms to change.

Stupid sex club. Stupid faeries. Stupid job that you stupid need to pay your stupid fucking bills.

-

It's late into the night before Soap even shows up. You're so busy mixing drinks, pouring pints, and trying to tug down the back of your skirt, that you don't even notice him slip behind the bar.

You do notice him when you turn to grab the Aperol, and your eyes immediately flick to the tent in the front of his pants. You scowl when you meet his eye.

"Keep it in your pants," You tell him, doing your best to avoid touching him as you reach around him to grab the bottle.

He doesn't give you the same courtesy, reaching down to lift your skirt as you lean.

You yelp at the sudden exposure and immediately attempt to cover yourself again. Soap's hand is firm where he's got your skirt held, and though you tug at the edges your ass remains out. Soap clicks his tongue.

"Didnae give ya the panties like Ah asked."

You give up on tugging your skirt down in favor of twisting to push at him. You shove his hands, his chest, anything you can make contact with.

"Let go," You demand, feeling something awful warm when he drops to his knees.

"Don't mind me, bonnie." Soap hums, his hands dropping your skirt to grip your thighs. Your hands follow his and you bend to try to slide his hands off of you, only to feel his teeth against the swell of your ass. You stiffen, shooting back to your full height in an instant. You glance at Price across the room, and he holds his hand up with a smile.

Bastard. You can almost hear him telling you to get back to work.

You try to move to grab a new bottle, and Soap keeps you tightly in place. The only thing you can reach is the beer taps. You shoot a quick glare Price's way.

"Pints only for a minute," You tell the patrons seated on the other side of the bar, before you turn your attention back to Soap, "because that's all you're getting, one minute."

Soap doesn't respond except to shuffle closer between your legs and make himself comfortable. You grab a glass and tug the tap's handle to pour a pint for the man that slides up to the bar. Your eyes dart over him, assessing, and you switch to a cider over the lager you'd grabbed. You'd love to give him something with raspberry, maybe muddled with gin, light but stiff, but you're stuck.

Soap's tongue drags over the sleek silk of your panties, and you nearly drop the glass in shock. It takes all your self control to finish the pour, set it on the bar, and keep your face straight. His thumbs rub over your panties, spreading your clothed folds before he licks his tongue over you again. You shudder and push at his hands again, his grip feels like iron, his fingers digging into your thighs to a near painful degree.

The man on the other side of the bar gives you a strange look before retreating to some dark corner.

Another long lick followed by a deep groan, before he's peppering kisses over your ass and dragging your panties down to your knees. There's a measure of care to the press of his lips that you choose to ignore and then forget entirely when he bites your ass hard. You yelp and snap a hand over your mouth to keep from disturbing any of the men on the other side of the bar.

A placating kiss is planted on the fresh bite, and you twist to catch Soap's eye.

"Okay, that's a minute," You tell him, uncaring whether it is or not, "that's all you get."

"Ah dinnae agree tae that." Soap tells you, "Price says Ah have ya for the night."

Your gaze jerks to Price. Then around the bar. You can't find him. Is he even here? What happened to holding the leash?

You turn back to Soap and it feels like all the air has been punched out of you. He holds your gaze with those awful electric blues, and makes you watch him burry his face back between your legs. You twist back to the bar, your back twinging at how quickly your muscles tighten at the first touch of his tongue against your skin.

You grab another pint glass as one of the patrons on the edge of the bar grabs a stool in front of you. You need a distraction from the boiling anger you feel. So you can just be traded for favors? Given out like a prize for a job well done? What's next? He'll be selling you with the girls in the back rooms?

Heat slicks its way up your spine at the twist of Soap's tongue over your clit. Warmth slides back down to melt between your legs, pooling and tingling to following the steady flow of lapping. Over your cunt, between your folds, Soap's face held firm against you even as his hands slide to spread you apart. Waves of sensation that wear like a steady beat against the rocky beach of your self control.

Your hand shakes on the tap as you pour Guinness for a man that looks like he'd prefer a sour. The stout overflows, leaking down the glass and sliding over your fingers as a new wave of pleasure sinks under your skin. You don't bother drying your hand off, or apologizing, you barely get the pint on the bartop without cracking the glass.

The man gives you a once over as he takes it, and you grip the edge of the bar to try and gather your wits about you. You swallow down a sharp noise as Soap drags his tongue in strange familiar shapes over your clit. Your breathing feels uneven, and your hips push back into his touch without your brain telling them to.

It's all too hot, too wet, too focused, for you to keep a thought in your head. Your hands shake against the bar, fingers flexing open and closed with the overwhelming desire to grab and pull at the head between your thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut against the shot of pleasure that zips through you, tightening in your stomach before swirling between your ribs. You bend at the waist, pressing back, aching for more. Those strange familiar tracings are driving you mad.

(Johnny)

Each little flick and roll against your clit making your body shudder and react.

(Johnny)

Your cunt feels hot, electrified with the aching need that drips from it.

(Johnny)

His nose presses against your entrance, grinds teasingly against the wet hole until your breath is shuddering and you're halfway to begging him to fill you.

(Johnny, Johnny)

He pulls back to push his wiggling tongue into your cunt, and you nearly sob in relief. Your head feels like it's stuffed full of cotton, the throbbing pain behind your eyes is starting to recede back into the recesses of your mind. You hadn't even noticed it before it was gone.

Not that you notice its absence, not when your entire being seems to be focused wholly on the way your cunt stretches around Johnny's tongue. The warm wet muscle pokes and prods, wiggling and licking at your soft inner walls when it isn't fucking in and out of you like a promise.

A whimper leaves your lips when his tongue leaves you and drags another rough stripe over your cunt. It feels dangerous, loaded, intent. Some singular goal already accomplished, a deer finally shot allowing the hunter to feed, you almost feel Johnny smile.

You lean over the counter, the cold, wet, wood seeping into the thin fabric of your dress to cling to your skin. Despite the sudden chill your mouth falls open as Johnny sucks at your clit, his tongue rolling over the sensitive bud in crashing waves of pleasure. Your lashes flutter, your eyes roll, and the customer in front of you leans back on his stool. The soft moan that drops from your lips seems to roll like iron across the bar, making every patron pick up their glass in the vein hope of not looking like they're watching you.

Johnny doesn't break from his ministrations, shaking his head as he tries to press closer to you. The stubble along his jaw scratches at your thighs, and you try to swallow down some of the spit that's collecting on your tongue as he swipes broad strokes with his own through your slick folds.

One of the patrons reaches over the bar to touch your cheek, and when you flinch away Johnny growls. He pulls his mouth from your cunt only long enough to warn the man:

"Anyone touches 'er I'll have their heid."

The threat shouldn't send prickles of heat over your skin like it does. Not for the slow way that Johnny puts his mouth on you again, a low growling hum as his lips close around your clit that rocks little jolts of heat through you. His tongue flicks tight short licks against the sensitive bud and each one seems to build a crescendo of want that coils tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

Every muscle in your body pulls tight, forces the arch of your back as you push yourself desperately back into his attentions.

You drop your forehead against the bar with a pathetic whine. You feel pathetic, vulnerable in a way you've never experienced. Every patron at the bar seems to have their eyes on you, you can feel them like a brand, and that attempt to touch you... Knowing they're watching you fall apart, watching Johnny do whatever he likes to you because of a deal he made with your boss- You just hope none of them are wondering what they have to do to earn the same reward.

Johnny's head turns to press his lips to the soft skin of your inner thigh, smearing your slick across the skin, and pushes a finger into you. Your lip wobbles at the not-quite-full feeling, at the burning slide of his finger in and out of you. You can feel his eyes on you too, but where your customers' eyes rove hungrily over your body, Johnny's are focused solely on the way your cunt swallows his thick finger.

His lips mover against your thigh, silent murmurings that your ears strain for over the music of the bar. A second digit slides gently in beside the first, his fingers scissoring to watch the stretch and God it just melts through you. You feel the stretch like a slow warmth that spreads through your pelvis and dribbles down your thighs. Out and in, his fingers dive into you and pull back with just the taste of your slick on his knuckles.

It's less overwhelming than his mouth. Enough of a thought coalesces in your brain to make you lift your head off the bar.

And to feel a sharp jolt of fear burst through you at the way the patron across from you tugs at his belt.

No.

No, you can't do this. It's too much. There are too many people and they're going to think you're something more than just the bartender. They're going to try and touch you, or make you touch them.

It dowses over your heated skin like cold water, making you prickle and tense, shaking with something so close and yet so far from pleasure that your body can't seem to decide what to do with it.

You're not sure who you mean to call for help, but a name springs to your lips faster than your tongue can pick it up.

"Jo-" Johnny's hand wraps around your mouth, his body plastered against your back in a second. The rush of fear leaves you in an instant as his lips find the shell of your ear. His fingers never leave you.

The gentle thrust of his fingers into your tight cunt feels almost like a lifeline, a sensation you can hold onto that you can't confuse for anything else.

"Ahm here, hen." He murmurs, his eyes flicking from your face to the patron's hand. "Ahm nae gonna let anyone dae anythin'." More than an assurance, a promise. You sink back into the feeling. "Take it as a compliment," His lips drag over the top of your cheek, up to your temple, "look so pretty that they cannae help touchin' 'emselves."

You half expect him to leave you like this, to go back to where he'd been between your legs, but he doesn't.

Your fingers find his forearm and grip it tight, something to hold onto as his fingers pick up the pace. In and out, in and out, faster and faster, harder and harder, until you can't stop the high moans that Johnny's hand muffles. His lips press everywhere they can, peppering the side of your face and the length of your neck with something that feels almost like affection as your hips rock and your muscles spasm.

Each thrust of his fingers hits right where you want it, pushing at that wet ache that seems to radiate pleasure. You claw at Johnny's arm with both hands as your back arches to a near painful degree, and he releases his hold on your face to grab your throat.

He fixes his mouth against yours in a searing kiss right as you come, your cunt fluttering around his fingers. Wet squelching rings over the music, filling your ears, and his palm with the sound of your pleasure. His tongue sweeps against yours, and you swallow the rush of saliva the feeling brings.

Johnny looks terribly pleased when he pulls away.

Pleased and delightfully fuzzy.

Your brain is still working through all the sex hormones and the red lighting isn't helping your vision.

You think you should be... mad at him.

You do your best to scowl at him.

"I hope you're not expecting anything in return." You insist, though your knees feel weak enough to drop to the ground right there. Johnny hums.

"Already got what I wanted." He informs you.

Your eyes narrow.

Whatever the fuck that means, it probably isn't good for you.

You fend off his groping the rest of the night, and lock up with a strange(familiar and terrifying) weight on your chest.

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Joker Junior Tim but Tim's afraid of Harley and JJ loves Harley because that's his mom.

When Harley first found out that Tim was JJ and that the bats were the Waynes, she was torn. She wanted so bad to spend time with her son and to apologize, but she couldn't. She felt horrible for what she did.

Reason being is the first time she confronted Red Robin, or Robin at the time, while on patrol. She had found him on a roof and he had been so terrified of her he was shivering. Her heart hurt for Tim, who was scared of her.

She left him alone after that, always choosing to avoid the bird's line of sight and hearing range so he wouldn't be scared. It wasn't until one of the other bats talked to her, Oracle, that she decided to try to get close to Robin.

At first she started by sitting at the farthest end of the building where Tim was perched. She watched him for a few minutes before looking away. This happened several times.

At the point he stopped shivering and looking as tense as he used to be, she moved closer. Day by day, week by week, month by month, she got close to him till she was sitting next to him.

They had started up a friendship then. She would do most the talking, making motherly gestures here and there, till one day, he fell asleep on her. She had taken him to her house that winter night and tucked him into bed, kissing him goodnight and setting out breakfast, hot chocolate, and fresh clothes along with a bag the next morning.

He was scared, of course, this was a villain's anti-hero's house, you couldn't drop your guard too much.

He knew he shouldn't have trusted her.

"Goodmorning, kiddo. I made you some pancakes and hot chocolate. There's some clothes on the bedside and a bag for your costume, Timmy, that way you don't have to go home in that."

He stood frozen as he stared at the large stack of pancakes laid out. He slowly moved forward, taking the fork next to the plate and took a piece off of it.

He hesitated when biting it, but when he did, nothing was wrong with it. It tasted amazing.

He had almost choked several times when he scarfed down the pancakes, the best pancakes he's ever tasted if he does say so himself(sorry Alfred), and thanked her.

He changed and put his stuff in the bag before getting ready to leave, but he stopped himself.

He looked at her, and she looked confusedly at him.

"About the Joker.."

He didn't need to finish his sentence, she already knew.

She sat down and motioned him to sit in the seat next to her, so he did.

She didn't look him in the eye when she spoke. She talked for a while, told him about her relationship with the Joker, about how sorry she was about what she helped do to him, everything.

After that talk, their relationship changed. They became closer, the bats noticed.

Alfred, Bruce, and Barbara seemed indifferent to the change in their relationship, because they knew what happened. They were happy about it, even, about how well their relationship has grown.

At one point, though, things changed again. Red Robin was taken and electrocuted, triggering JJ to cone out. The bats were stuck, unable to do anything without JJ doing something in return, Red Hood was frozen in place despite himself.

It wasn't until Harley entered the scene that JJ ran to her, hugging her, calling her mama that he calmed down enough and started crying.

"Oh Junior, it's okay baby. Mommy's here."

Harley kept saying those comforts until Ivy arrived and swept them away.

"Hey!" Nightwing called out, prepared to go after them. Batman, however, stopped him, stepping up to Ivy.

"Have you got him?" he asked her. "Yes, we'll take care of him until he's better. Tomorrow's your only time I'm allowing you in my place to give him things. Your next visit is when he asks." She warned him. He nodded in return, unphased by her threat.

"B, why did you let them take him."

"There are things you don't know, about the time when Red Robin started out as Robin." Was the simple answer Batman gave them before he left, clearing out the area.

[nemesyaaa]

❝ no brain. only big arms and fat thighs.❞

featuring himbo!rafe x reader.

⸻★himbo!rafe who’s a beast of muscles, all beefy and heavy, literally the bulky man towering everyone around him. when he's not putting on his stupid preppy kook dressing, he loves wearing those little tight t-shirts that are too small to fit his big tits but shows off his well-shaped six pack.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who is the king of manspreading. you can be sure that his massive legs are always highly spreaded every time he sits down somewhere. bonus, when he's wearing one of those favorite shorts after going to the gym, and his thick thighs are naked enough to reveal his fleshy skin filled with hard stunning veins.

✦ He's HUGE so ofc, he's gonna take a lot of place. ⸻ “sit on my lap, baby. you don't need a seat. ”

⸻★ he's more a female magnet than a womanizer. attracts women as well as he knows how to catch them but it doesn't mean he's got a hard interest in them. you're the one he cares about. he's not smart enough to get them with his brain but like any good himbos, he knows how to use his physique to his advantage. ⸻ his pretty face saves his lack of culture.

⸻★ biggest and proud member of the thirst trap community. you can be sure that he posts hundreds of photos after the gym of his large thighs and strong arms, flexing his muscle on the bathroom mirror to get all those veiny lines bulging his thick biceps and pecs.

⸻ he likes to pretend that it's for his gym bros but will delete the story if you don't see or react to his post.

✦ of course, he's an attention whore when it comes to you. that's a true himbo.

( the rest under the cut...)

⸻★ himbo!rafe who will take every opportunity he gets to show you how strong he is.

no matter your weight, he's bigger than you so don't you dare worry about your body size. you're perfect. he's gonna lift you up so easily, and it's also an excuse to show you how well–builded he is.

✦ if your feets hurt, he will carry you a short distance as well as a long one. he will open all the jam jars for you, and carry all your bags and suitcases. with him, you won't move a finger and you can be sure that you won't break any nails.

✦ you are a princess to him, and he will treat you with all the respect a girl like you deserves. he doesn't call you his baby for nothing.

✦ and that man loves to smack on your ass but you immediately need to calm him down because he doesn't know about his heavy strength. like this man, he's kind of a beast, could bruise you with just one good slap.

⸻★ big addict when you touch and compliment his physique. like yes, praise him. you're the gool girl he craves and literally dreams of. huge simp when you've just done your nails and you're testing their quality on him. he loves having your wild marks on his skin. come on, he's big. ⸻ his huge size is literally not for the WEAK so he's begging at your feets for you to use your nails on him. he wants you to dig them so hard so that every time he looks at his broaden back in the mirror, he remembers why he's paying for any of your girls appointments.

⸻★ 100% jealous. he’s really is. he doesn't want to share you. even if you're not his girlfriend, he’s convinced that you are his and that you belong to him.

the problem with himbo!rafe is that he's not really that smart... even if you're the one who made the first move with this guy in the club, you can be sure that the innocent person with whom you flirted will end up in a hospital bed...⸻while you will have all the privilege of ending up in his bed. (women can do no wrong)

he doesn't want to hear or know the context. (be serious, he's not gonna understand it in any case.) like any himbos, he hates to think. he only trusts what he sees. so if he has to spend all the party breaking the jaws of all these guys around you, you can be sure he will do it.

you don't want to care about him ? he's gonna show you a reason why you should.

this man will literally fight. yea, he got muscles to show off but also to be sure to destroy his rivals.

he is proactive. he acts, he does not think.

⸻★ if you want to go out in a short dress, a mini skirt, any tiny piece of clothing, you can be sure that he won't say no but will be clinging to you like a leech. like he's okay with your outfit but you don't go anywhere without him. it's THE RULE.

✦ if you're not okay with that, fine. you're gonna cry about it at home.

and you can pout, he doesn't care. (you're still pretty so…)he will literally mock you by saying don't play games you're gonna lose if you want to win.

“ but raf…” you start. but he doesn't care. “ do not rafe me. you've done enough tonight. ” “ i want to go to the party ! ” “ no, you just want to get on my nerves so you stay here. ”

but if you're going out and the other boys want to look at you, there's no problem. you can be sure that in the next second, their faces will be too broken to continue staring at you.

⸻★ don't talk to him about things that are too complicated like politics, ecology or feminism, you're gonna waste your time. the only thing on his mind is you so don't confuse him with things he'll never understand.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who adores when you need him. like, if this man doesn't wait for your call every time.... that's probably the only reason he has a phone.

he loves when you need him, even for random things. you need a driver? he is there. you need money? give him the amount and it's done. you need advice on your new outfit? he's gonna worship you.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who always got a soft spot for you and called you by sweet nicknames like baby, princess, peach, and pretty. he's listening to everything you have to say, don't make you repeat even if he doesn't understand a single word of what you're saying. ⸻ “ rafe, you're not listening. ” you shouted softly, snapping at him. “ of course, i'm listening baby. ” “ okay so what did I say ? ” “ that you wanna hang out with me tonight ? ” he proposed with such an obvious smile that you're forced to laugh at his audacity. “ i didn't say that. ” “ okay, but do you wanna hang out tonight ? you can't say no. i mean, it's yes or yes. ” “ okay, i wanna hang out with you tonight. ”

if you hate some people, you can be sure he's gonna be the biggest hater of those people too. but easy girl, because he's also the biggest hater of boys that you love.

✦ himbo!rafe who loves when you cry on his arms because one, his ego needs to be the first man you think about when you're sad, but also because he loves to carry you against him. shush you everytime you sob, but also kiss your forehead dearly. he's so gentle at the moment, but the moment he knows the name of who makes you cry, he's turning into an evil man.

⸻★ when you show interest in him, he loses his mind. he's like a sweet giant puppy. he's not the type to blush when you look at him but he just wants to squish you in his big arms. like, you are so nice and pretty.

you make him feel so dumb ( when in fact, he's really stupid on daily and it's not about you.)

⸻★ it's also a sucker for the size difference between the two of you. like, you are so small compared to him. so, don't try to run away from him, he will always be faster than you. himbo!rafe loves to play around with it, resting his arms on your head when he's next to you, joking about your small feets compared to him, pretending to not see you when you're around.

it's all a joke until he finds that thing can be a kink…

and that you’re maybe into it.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who's is a BIG VIRGIN not because he doesn't get any opportunities to fuck some bitches but this man wants to get his first time with you and only you.

✦ not only he cares about his virginity, but he does checks on yours every time.

⸻★ he's got a nice cock if you ask, everything so good-shaped about him…but god, he's such an himbo. there is nothing in his brain, so don't expect your dumb puppy to know how to use his pretty dick.

[shotmrmiller]

simon isn't a man you take home. he's for the literal streets. dresses like he's homeless because all that matters is that his throwing knives and handguns are pristine. the only reason his home is spotless is because he doesn't live in it, it's all for show. his pantry has only salt and mouse traps, his fridge a long expired bottle of ketchup and something that if anyone ate, they'd gain superpowers.

he's got a crazy look in his eye, and who can blame him after all that shit he's been through? gut-wrenching betrayal, unimaginable torture, then buried alive shoulder to shoulder with his ol rotting buddy, ol decaying pal? he joined the military a butcher's apprentice, and now he's an echo of what simon riley used to be, a fading silhouette that wanders the corridors in base. a ghost.

he has to play music whenever he's not at work just to keep the screaming voices in his head at bay, and it has to be loud enough to drown out the incessant high-pitched ringing in his ears. a cacophony of noise that wears his thin string of patience into in-existence.

he's a killer, he's a man who's donned his skull mask for so long that he's forgotten the face underneath.

you don't bring a man like him home. and when you eventually did, even your parents had agreed.

he looks one clown short of a circus.

he hovers over you like a ghost. (ha)

possessive, obsessive, paranoid.

he'll kill you if you try to leave him.

simon heard everything, not like they had tried to keep their voice down. it hadn't really mattered to him, empty words pelting knotted flesh only a sharpened knife could cut through. but you hadn't taken any of it.

his little hero, coming to his defense. it'd been the first time- in a long time- that his icy cold, tiny heart skipped a beat.

simon's always been his own savior. he saved himself from the shit life he had with his family by joining the army. he'd clawed his way out of his own grave, freshly turned soil stuck under his fingernails for weeks. he'd gone after the head of roba, in the name of vengeance. even now, he's a part of the justice league, the task force 141.

unsung heroes.

and here you were, standing in your parent's kitchen, all bared teeth and scalding temper- over him.

simon's so aroused that when he rises from where he's seated, he sways on his feet. there's no stopping him from briskly walking over to you and hoisting you up and over his shoulder, heading for the door.

there's no stopping him from throwing you into the backseat, and climbing in after.

you weakly try to stop him with stammered words, just wanting to know what the fuck he's doing but when simon starts to impatiently undo the button of your jeans, his confined manhood pushing up underneath you, it clicks.

you don't want him to stop when the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your slippery clit with expertise, thick fingers curling inside your swollen cunt.

you definitely don't want him to stop when his cock slides through your slick folds, his hand wrapped around his thick base. his tip pushes inside, mild discomfort already flaring. gravity then does the work, slowly sinking you onto him until his thighs are flush against your arse. the sweet, decadent burn of him splitting you in half sparking your nerve endings alight, from the waist to your knees.

you beg him not to stop when he fucks you in earnest; desire, sticky and wet, dampening the coarse trimmed hair of his cock. the air inside the truck muggy, heavy and thick with sex. he places his hand under your navel, right when he knows he is, and grunts when he gently presses down. the noises coming from you and your sodden pussy are obscene, lewd, downright vulgar and he wonders if you'd let him record it- to replace the banal music he usually listens to.

your breath hitches beautifully, and simon makes sure to watch how you let go of his shoulder to weave that hand downward to take yourself over the edge.

"impatient little pet, can't even wait f'me to get ya there, eh?" the low chuckle he lets out is cut short at the feeling of your slick walls fluttering around him, making him groan. he keeps his sharp gaze on you when your body tenses, back arching as you jerk fast, little circles over your pearl. he plants his feet and begins to thrust upward, your weight nothing to his strength and-

how beautiful you look in the pleasure he brings you.

it's cliche, truly, that he comes when you do, but he couldn't care less in this instance. your cunt squeezes him like a silken fist, a tight vice that milks his cock almost painfully so. his grip around your waist is bruising, but it only adds to the sensation- the delightful bite of pain prolonging your pleasure.

the base of his spine tingles from his climax, and his breathing is ragged. alive. your hands skim the wide breadth of his chest, as if brushing off the dirt he'd once been buried under.

his little hero.

you took him home, so now he takes you to his.

(...don't look in the kitchen, pet.)

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[munsonsmixtapes]

Take a Dive

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

you and your best friend Eddie go skinny dipping in Lover's Lake where your friendship will never be the same again

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before tap it) hurt/comfort

The lake is completely deserted when Eddie’s van pulls up onto the sand. You don’t even know why you’re there or what you’re doing, you just started driving aimlessly when Eddie insisted that you got into the driver’s seat. You’re not going to lie and say that you weren’t surprised when Eddie tossed you his keys when you left his trailer. 

The only reason why you even left was because the two of you are bored and all of your usual places are closed because of how late it was. And now it’s almost midnight and you’re at Lover’s Lake because it was the first thing you could think of that you would have access to. 

Eddie turns to you to ask why you decided to come here, but you’re out of the van before he can speak. He’s quick to follow you, curious to see what you’re up to, but you just plant yourself on the sand, pulling a plastic bag out of your pocket along with the lighter you always carry around. 

He sits next to you as you pull a joint out of the bag before lighting up and taking a drag before passing it off to him. This is how you normally spend your weekends together, but it’s nice to have a change of scenery. The moon reflects off the water in front of you and it looks so pretty, so inviting. It almost makes you want to go for a swim despite how cold it will most likely be. 

You and Eddie pass the joint back and forth until it’s gone and you put it back in the bag that goes back into your pocket before you lie back on the sand, not caring if it gets in your hair or on your clothes. Eddie joins you and the two of you talk nonsense like you usually do, never needing drugs to do. 

You think that’s why you and Eddie are such good friends. You get each other in ways that no one else does, platonic soulmates as Robin once put it and as you turn to Eddie, who’s already looking at you, you begin to think that she’s right. He smiles at you and you mimic it, holding out your hand for him to take and he does, giving it a squeeze before turning back to stare at the sky. 

It’s times like these when you wonder how no one has snatched him up yet. He’s an absolute catch and any man or woman would be lucky to have him. You know a big reason as to why he’s chronically single is because he wants to be. He says he’s better that way, but you think most of his objection to settling down is that he’s still hurt from how he was treated back in Hawkins. It was the reason why the two of you packed up and left because he couldn’t take it anymore.

To them, he was nothing but a freak and that’s something that you still can’t seem to wrap your head around. Eddie always has been and will continue to be the goofy guy you’ve been friends with since you were in diapers. He’s nothing but a sweetheart and you really wished more people could have seen that. That they would have taken just a moment to realize that he was never actually evil and neither was the game he and his friends were playing.

All Eddie’s ever wanted in his entire life is to be loved. And he’d never tell you that all of that stuff about being insecure was just a cover because he’s been in love with you his entire life. He always tells you everything, but this is the one secret he’s taking to his grave. He can’t risk either of you getting hurt so he thinks it’s best to just keep quiet about the whole thing. 

Your mind drifts back to the lake and how nice it would be to swim in it, your need to do so getting even stronger with the weed in your system. Before you can stop yourself, you’re standing to your feet. You pass off the joint as you remove your shoes and socks before going for your pants. You know you only have one chance to do this and you’re going to take it. Eddie doesn’t seem to bat an eye as you take off your jacket, but he thinks he’s missed something as you start unbuttoning your jeans. He doesn’t know why you’re taking off your clothes, but who is he to deny you?

“What are you doing?” He asks as he stands, more curious than anything. 

“I’m going for a swim,” you tell him as you pull your pants down to reveal the thong you’re wearing. You don’t even seem to be phased as you strip in front of your best friend who hasn’t seen you naked since-well ever. Unless you count the baths you took together when you were younger but you both were too young to remember. He’s not complaining, though. He’s enjoying the show. Maybe a little too much since he can feel himself getting harder by the second. 

“You can join me, if you want.” Yeah, there’s no way he’s passing this up so he wordlessly starts to get undressed, trying to make how eager he is so obvious. Now you’re both in your underwear and Eddie thinks you’re fucking with him as you stare at him, slowly taking off your thong as you so. There’s a flirty look in your eye and Eddie’s applauding himself for his self control because he’s so close to taking you right there against his truck. 

You toss your bra into the pile of your now discarded clothes and Eddie thinks he’s going to come right there as he takes in your hard nipples, feeling drool collecting in his mouth as he thinks about taking them into his mouth and giving them a suck. 

He shakes his head and takes off his boxers, the two of you now completely naked and you shamelessly check him out, your gaze stopping at his rock hard cock and you have to step closer so you can see it better. Eddie feels like he should be embarrassed, but he’s not. And you don’t think he should be, especially because you take it as a huge compliment that he’s that sexually attracted to you. 

You turn towards the water and get deep enough before taking a dive. The water is freezing, but you stay under for a little longer, trying to figure why you want to fuck Eddie so badly right now. Sure, you’ve had thoughts about him, but you’ve never actually wanted to act on them until now. Seeing him, all of him awakened something inside you  and now you can’t stop thinking about how badly you want him inside of you. 

You surface and turn around to see Eddie behind you, his face even more pale than usual. He looks worried sick and you have no idea why. He swims closer and you move back, knowing that if he gets too close, you’ll do something you really shouldn’t. 

But before you can get too far, you find yourself grabbing hold of his hands and resting them on your waist before pressing your chest against his. Your arms wrap around his neck, leaning your face close to his, watching his eyes the entire time. A kiss isn’t the same a fucking. You just want a taste to get him out of your system. 

Eddie doesn’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it, but he's not going to push you away. He can’t. He wants to know what your lips feel like once and for all. He wants to know if you’re as good of a kisser as he thinks you are. 

Your lips find his gently, a soft little kiss to the corner of his mouth to test the waters. Eddie doesn’t like how teasing you are so he takes matters into his own hands, chasing your lips with a featherlight peck. He doesn’t want to scare you off even though he’s itching to do much more. 

He pecks your lips a few more times until they all melt into one, his own slotting between them as he kisses you softly. His hands dig into your waist which juxtaposes how he’s kissing you and that just tells you how hungry he is for more. 

You move his hands to your ass and wrap your legs around his waist as you nip at his bottom lip, causing Eddie to let out a whine. You feel his cock against you and you need him now more than ever. He seems to think the same because before you can even make the suggestion, he’s sliding inside you, his fingers digging into your ass as he moves slowly, thrusting in and out of you over and over. 

A moan escapes your mouth as you throw your head back giving Eddie the opportunity to take advantage of your exposed neck. He presses soft kisses to the skin before going straight in for a hard bite as his thrusts pick up causing you to mewl. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” he mumbles against your skin. “This is even better than I imagined.” 

“Oh, so you’ve imagined this?” You tease and he bites down on your neck even harder this time causing you to gasp as you scratch your nails down his back in response. 

He’s still moving at a slower pace, but this is actually how you prefer it. A lot of the men you’ve slept with go so fast like it’s a race and it’s over before you’ve even had time to enjoy it. You’ve told this to Eddie a few times and it seemed like he was listening. 

And that’s the thing about Eddie. He always listens to you no matter what you’re saying. Whether it’s nonsense when you’re both high on whatever he’s gotten his hands on or if you’re reading to him from a book you’ve gotten from the library, it doesn’t matter. He loves the sound of your voice. He loves you and seeing you with those losers you always seem to be going out with pisses him off. He’s right there and he hates that you can’t see that. 

He’d never tell you that, though. He loves what the two of you have and doesn’t want to risk losing you. So he just sits there and listens to you talk about your terrible dates, complaining about how there are no nice guys when he’s right there. It’s pathetic, really and he hates thinking about it. How he’s wrapped around your goddamn finger and you don’t even notice just how badly he wants you. 

“Of course I have,” he breathes. “I think about it all the time.” 

He’s said too much but you seem into it. And as you buck your hips against his, he’s really hoping that you feel the same way. It would make the whole thing far less embarrassing for him. But he doesn’t think you will because after all, this is just a fuck for you while it means the world to Eddie. 

“Can you keep a secret?” You ask and Eddie nods furiously, just knowing that he’s about to hear something filthy. You’ve shared dirty secrets with him many times before but he just knows that this one will be different. 

“Of course I can,” he nods and you push some of his wet hair behind his air as you bring your lips right up to it. You’re taking the lead now, riding him as you whisper your secret and Eddie swears that this is the most turned on he’s ever been.

“You know this summer when you wore those really short shorts almost every day?” You ask and Eddie knows exactly what you’re talking about. Robin got them for his birthday as a joke, but he started wearing them around you to hopefully make you see him in the way he wanted you to. 

“Mhm,” he nods and you pull him even closer, your lips so close to his ear that they’re almost pressed up against it.

“Well, I get myself off every night thinking about them.” Eddie thinks he’s going to come right there at your confession and he’s trying so hard not to, but just the vision of you getting yourself off is making him get there even faster. 

And before he can stop it, he’s reaching his orgasm, making sure to pull out of you as he comes, his eyes shut tight, his head thrown back as he lets it happen, still letting you stay attached to him as you watch him. 

“Jesus,” he moans as it reaches its peak and once it’s over, he slumps over you, resting his head on your shoulder. It’s partly because he’s tired and partly because he’s too embarrassed about what just happened to look you in the eye. 

So you hold him for a second, your fingers moving up and down his back lazily as you assure him that it’s okay, that he has no reason to be embarrassed, that you’re actually flattered by it. And you are. You had no idea how attracted he was to you and now feel like an idiot because you were too stupid to see it. 

How long had he felt that way and how long had he been hiding it? You don’t know why he’s so ashamed of it. He’s just attracted to you physically, right? You feel the same way about him so you don’t know he’s hiding from you. 

Just when you’re about to suggest that you head back, he pulls back to look at you and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen in the almost seventeen years that the two of you have been friends. His eyes are the softest they’ve ever been and you’re now scared of what he’s going to say. 

“I love you,” he says, those honey eyes boring into yours and your heart pounds at his confession. You almost want to tell him that you don’t feel the same, but you know that’s not true. He’s been someone who was always there, treating you the way you should have been treated without asking for anything in return. He was doing it just because that was who he was and because it was what you deserved. 

You went to all of those losers because you had been afraid of taking a chance on Eddie. He’s been your best friend your entire life and you were terrified of losing the best thing you’ve ever had. You don’t think you’re afraid of taking a chance on him anymore, though. You think it’s time you claimed what was rightfully yours. 

“I love you too,” you reply and a grin breaks out on Eddie’s face as he pulls you into a kiss, the both of you smiling into the kiss as your legs wrap tighter around him, wanting to keep him there even though you know he’s not going anywhere. 

“How about we celebrate elsewhere?” Eddie asks as he pulls away, a flirty tone taking over his voice. 

“What kind of celebration?” You reply, batting your eyelashes as you remove yourself from him. 

“I think you know what kind of celebration,” he winks, grabbing hold of your hand pulling you along as the two of you swim to the shore, climbing into the back of the van where you spend the rest of the morning until the sun comes up showing how much you love each other when you aren’t saying the three words. And there’s no place that either of you would rather be.

[alisonsfics]

wrong name

pairing: tyler owens x best friend!reader

summary: you were doing a great job suppressing your feelings for your best friend until you hooked up with a guy and called out tyler’s name in bed. but it’s fine, tyler would never find out, right? right?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, car sex, fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, minors DNI (18+ only)

It had been one week since the most mortifying moment of your life.

You’d gone on a first date with a guy named Finn because that’s what you do when you’re trying to get over your crush on your best friend. You hope that maybe you’ll meet a guy that you’ll fall harder for and stop crushing on the guy who would never see you like that.

So, you went back to his place after dinner, and the sex was mediocre at best.

At first, Tyler only popped into your head for second. You imagined how much better it would feel if it was his hands running over your body. Then, you had more intrusive thoughts. Like the thought of Tyler bending you over and fucking you.

It’s only because you were desperate. There was nothing worse than trying to pretend you were having a good time when you were just bored out of your mind.

So, you suggested to Finn that he should blindfold you.

From there, your imagination really soared, and you allowed yourself to believe you were with Tyler.

It was a fun little secret, just for you.

Until you both came, and you called out Tyler’s name and not his.

You were praying you’d spontaneously combust because you couldn’t face him after that. You quickly scrambled back into your clothes and went home.

You were doing okay at pretending it never happened. When you were lying in bed at night, the memory liked to sneak up on you and mortify you all over again.

So, you were boycotting dates for the moment because you couldn’t risk doing it again.

You had a boring night of wine and a movie planned for yourself when Tyler called you. “Hey, Tyler? What’s up?” You asked him, cheerily.

“You got any plans tonight? I was thinking about going out to a bar.” He suggested.

Even over the phone, his voice ran right through you. Goosebumps ran down your arms as you tried to hide your excitement. “That sounds great. Pick me up at 8?” You suggested.

“Sounds perfect, see you soon.” He replied.

You hung up the phone and flopped backwards onto your bed. The heat rushed to your cheeks. You had to fight the urge to giggle and kick your feet.

You’d been friends with Tyler for years, which didn’t mean you stopped getting butterflies around him. You just got better at hiding it.

You both had been through a lot together, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it by letting he find out you were harboring feelings for him.

So, you picked out a cute black dress to wear. One that Tyler’s eyes would linger over, but he’d never admit it. Just like every time the two of you went out to a bar.

You’d just finished getting ready whenTyler’s red truck pulled up outside your apartment. You quickly ran down the stairs to greet him.

“There she is,” he said, his eyes running down your body as he got out of the truck. That look of awe was enough to make you feel dizzy.

You could feel the butterflies start to swarm as he walked closer to you. “You look gorgeous as always.” He said, taking your hand and spinning you in a circle.

You thanked him as he pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Your chariot awaits.” He joked, opening the passenger door for you.

The drive there went by in a flash. You and Tyler knew each other like the back of your hands, so you could easily spend hours talking about nothing and everything.

“So, any particular reason you wanted to go out tonight?” You asked, looking over at Tyler as you both took a seat at the bar. You knew Tyler’s favorite solution for problems at work was going out drinking with you. No one could calm Tyler down the way you could.

“Can’t it just be because I wanted to hang out with my best friend?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. You rolled your eyes at him, swatting his arm. “While I am a delight, I know that’s not it.” You encouraged him, letting your hand linger on his forearm.

His eyes darted down. The way your small hand was gripping onto his muscular arm was enough to distract him. You quickly pulled your hand away, feeling slightly embarrassed after seeing his reaction.

“Just tornado stuff. We had this big opportunity to get a bunch of data, but some of the equipment malfunctioned. We lost almost everything.” He explained. He was eager to move the conversation past how he had almost malfunctioned because you grabbed his arm.

You gave him a small sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That’s frustrating. You’ll figure it out. I mean, you’re the tornado wrangler after all.” You said, cheesily trying to cheer him up. Tyler chuckled and looked down at his hands.

Ever since Tyler had been branded the “Tornado Wrangler,” you loved to tease him about it.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I hate when you call me that.” He groaned, smiling at you. You cheekily shrugged your shoulders.

“I gotta go to the bathroom real quick. Can you watch my drink?” You asked him. Tyler quickly nodded, sliding your drink over in front of him. You rushed towards the bathroom, where you assumed there’d be a line.

“Two shots of tequila please,” Tyler heard a man come up to the bar and order beside him.

He didn’t pay a lot of attention to it, until he saw the man down both shots back to back, out of the corner of his eye. “Rough day?” Tyler joked, looking over at the man.

“Rough week,” the man corrected him, with a grim expression. Tyler looked at the man’s face, not being able to shake the feeling that he knew him from somewhere.

“Wait, do we know each other? You look familiar.” Tyler said, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought. The man gave him an awkward smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, man.” He said, knowing he’d never seen Tyler before.

That’s when he saw Tyler’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh, wait. You’re Finn, right?” He asked him.

Finn’s expression only became more anxious and worried. “Yeah, umm. I am, but how do you know my name? I don’t think we’ve ever met.” He asked.

Tyler quickly shook his head, trying to assure the man who was growing more nervous. “No, we haven’t met. You went on a date with my friend Y/N last weekend. She showed me your picture before you guys had your date.” Tyler said.

Finn nodded in recognition. All the memories of that night came rushing back to him. “Oh, yeah. That explains it.” Finn said, sheepishly. It was clear to Finn that this man he was speaking to didn’t know anything about how that date went.

“Sorry, don’t want to be rude. I’m Tyler, by the way.” Tyler said, quickly shaking Finn’s hand. Finn stared blankly back at him. “Tyler?” He asked, feeling his blood run cold. Tyler nodded, giving Finn a friendly smile.

Meanwhile, you were on your way back to the bar.

“Hey, Tyler. I’m back.” You said, reaching to grab your drink back from Tyler. Your gaze drifted past Tyler to the man that was standing beside him.

“Hey, Y/N. Good to see you.” Finn said, with a fake smile. You felt yourself freeze. You wanted to run away, but you couldn’t convince your feet to move.

“Oh—uh, Finn. Yeah, good to see you.” You nervously lied. Your eyes darted between Tyler and Finn. You were praying Finn hadn’t found out Tyler’s name. You were also praying he hadn’t told Tyler what happened.

“I guess you haven’t told your friend, Tyler, here that our date was kind of a bust.” He said, coldly.

You wrapped your hand around Tyler’s bicep, trying to tug him towards you. You wanted Tyler to get the hint that you really wanted to leave.

Tyler turned to face you. He saw the pure panic in your eyes. “You okay?” He asked you, quietly.

You tried to form the word “no,” but no sound would come out of your mouth. All you could imagine was Finn telling Tyler what happened. You could practically see the way that Tyler’s face would change.

“I think the guy deserves to know.” Finn said, noticing the way you were tensed up. You weren’t hard to read in this moment, but Finn had been humiliated when you said the wrong name. So, he wanted revenge.

“That’s none of his business.” You said firmly. You refused to look Tyler in the eye. You were worried that if you did, he’d somehow see into your soul and know what happened.

“Let’s go.” Tyler said, standing up and wrapping his hand tightly in yours. Tyler knew how uncomfortable Finn was making you and wanted to get you out of there as quick as possible.

Tyler turned to leave, pulling you with him when Finn yelled after you both.

“We hooked up, but she called out your name, not mine.” Finn said.

You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your stomach sank. You felt like the floor was going to open it up and pull you under.

You tugged your hand away and ran out of the bar and into the parking lot. Tyler was trying to process what he’d just heard.

He turned around to face Finn, who had a grin on his face. “The lady told you to shut up.” Tyler practically growled, shoving Finn against the bar.

Tyler turned on his heel to follow you towards the car.

When he got outside, he saw you standing by the passenger side of the truck. Your arms were crossed, and your eyes were focused on the ground.

“Sweetheart—” Tyler started to say before you cut him off.

“I want to go home.” You snapped. Your tone came out harsher than you meant to.

Tyler slowly nodded. He didn’t want to push you to talk about something you didn’t want to talk about. You both got into the car in complete silence.

Tyler hesitated before putting the keys in the ignition. He glanced over at you. He could see your eyes starting to water as you still refused to look at him.

He cautiously reached over to let his fingers interlace with yours. “Will you please look at me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not scaring me away. I promise.” He said, softly.

You hesitantly looked over at him. He gave you a soft smile, trying to calm you down. “Finn was a douchebag for telling me, but I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you. You softly squeezed his hand.

He used his other hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “So…you were calling out my name, huh?” Tyler asked you, with a cocky smirk.

Your eyes went wide. You tugged your hand away from his and covered your face with your hands. “Tyler,” you complained, dragging out his name.

He chuckled to himself. “I wasn’t trying to tease you.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender.

You peeked at him through your fingers. “That’s exactly what you’re doing, Owens.” You said, groaning to yourself.

He shook his head. Then, you felt him grab both your hands. His rough calloused skin scratching against your soft hands. He moved your hands away, looking you in the eye.

“I was just offering to make your little fantasies a reality.” He said in a low voice.

You leaped across the car, grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him. His hand flew to the back of your neck as he kissed you back.

You could taste the liquor on his lips. The kiss was sloppy and hungry. You’d both wanted this for too long to be patient. His fingers weaved through your hair, holding on tightly.

His other hand grabbed your waist. His fingers caressed the silky material of your dress. His mind could only think about how much softer your skin would be under his touch.

You seemingly read his mind. “Go ahead,” you mumbled against his lips. You could feel his lips curve up into a smirk. He slipped his fingers under your short dress, caressing your upper thigh.

He noticed the goosebumps that were covering your legs. It only encouraged him more. His hand slowly moved higher up your thigh.

You whimpered against the kiss. You felt the familiar aching between your legs. You needed his touch like you needed air. “So needy for me, baby,” he said, cockily.

The pet name sent a shiver rolling down your back. You bucked your hips up against nothing. “Please,” you begged him.

He rubbed his thumb across your clothed heat. A small wet patch had formed in your panties. Another whine came out of you.

He quickly pushed your panties to the side and plunged a finger into your folds. You gasped, pulling out of the kiss. Your eyelids softly fluttered closed.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumbled softly. Tyler peppered kisses to your shoulder as you leaned your head back. Your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head. He curled his finger inside of you, making you buck your hips against his hand.

“You want another, sweetheart? Can you handle that?” Tyler asked you. You furiously nodded your head. He could feel his jeans becoming strained as he watched you writhe under his touch.

He added another finger, stretching you out. Your mouth hung open as you adjusted. Your wetness only allowed Tyler to move his fingers quicker. He quickly moved them in and out, watching as your breath quickened.

Your stomach started to tighten. You reached for anything to sink your nails into. Your hand landed on Tyler’s bicep.

He pressed his thumb into your clit. “Tyler,” his name fell effortlessly from his lips. He quickened his pace. Every breath and moan from you made him go faster.

“Cum for me, baby,” he praised you.

He started rubbing circles around your clit. You whined, helplessly grinding your hips down against his hand. You swore you were seeing stars. “Oh fuck, Tyler, I’m gonna—” you swore, biting down your lip.

“Go ahead. Cum on my fingers.” He instructed. Your orgasm hit you. You clenched around his fingers, riding the high. “Tyler, so good,” you mumbled. Your legs were shaking, and you threw your head back against the headrest. He continued pumping his fingers into you.

“That’s it. There you go.” He softly praised you. Tyler’s fingers slowed down, helping you down from your peak. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your lips softly.

He wiped his soaked fingers on his jeans. You softly nipped at his bottom lip. His smirk grew again. “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” He asked you.

Instead of answering him, you climbed across the console into his lap. Tyler pulled out of the kiss to watch you, in shock. His eyes were wide at the sight in front of him.

You were straddling his lap. Your skirt was hiked up to your hips while your cum was running down your thigh. Your makeup was smudged. Your lips were swollen. And you looked tired out from your orgasm.

“Hold on, just a second, baby,” he said, quickly sliding his seat all the way back and leaning the chair as far back as it would go.

As soon as you both had more room, you were back all over each other. Tyler’s hands were possessively holding on your hips. You unbuttoned Tyler’s shirt as you kissed him. Feeling the last button come undone, you raked your nails over his bare chest. Tyler groaned into the kiss. Your touch was magic on him.

“Need you,” he mumbled against your lips. You tugged his shirt off his shoulders and threw it in the back seat.

Tyler leaned back as you reached for the hem of your dress. He watched with a cocky smile as you pulled the dress over your head. He’d just been fingers deep in you, but the sight of you in your bra and panties was enough to make him crazy.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, darling,” he practically moaned. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down to kiss him again. Your hands struggled to undo his belt while he unclasped your bra.

Having Tyler’s hands on you had your skin burning. You felt like your skin was on fire, in the best way. You could sense his desperation. His hands explored your body, not wanting to leave any part untouched.

His hands covered you, helping you undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He quickly tugged his jeans down to his knees.

You pulled out of the kiss to take a breath. Tyler buried his face in between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and a trail of saliva. He leaned forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your eyes rolled back, grasping onto Tyler’s arms. “Need you, Tyler,” you mumbled.

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” He said, tugging down his boxers. His cock spring out, slapping against his stomach. He watched as you practically drooled over him. He brought you back into the moment as he pulled off your panties.

“You want to do this right here? Or you wanna move into the backseat?” He asked you, smirking at your eager expression.

“Right here,” you said. The words came out rushed as you captured his lips in a kiss. He smirked against your lips. “Hang on, sweetheart. If you’re gonna ride me, you’re gonna need this.” He said, grabbing his cowboy hat from the backseat and plopping it on your head. A bashful smile appeared on your face.

You shifted your weight, holding onto Tyler’s shoulders. “Go ahead, cowgirl.” He encouraged you with a wicked smile.

You slowly sunk yourself down onto his length. A low groan escaped Tyler’s lips at the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Fuck, darling,” he moaned, grabbing at your hips. He helped lift you up and let you plunge back down on his cock.

“Oh, Ty— so good,” you mumbled, rolling your hips back into his.

Tyler took a mental picture of you riding him while wearing his hat. He wanted to remember it forever.

With his assistance, you sped up the pace. You were ramming your hips down against his. With each thrust, you could feel Tyler reaching deeper inside you.

“This what you were thinking about with that other guy? Thinking about wrapping your sweet pussy around my cock. You fit perfect. It’s like you were made for me.” Tyler praised you. His comments went straight to your core. Your legs started to shake.

His name fell from your lips. He bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway. “Need to…f-f-faster,” you stuttered, feeling your muscles begin to tighten.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help ya,” he assured you, grabbing a tight hold on your hips. He slammed you down on his cock.

You could feel him brush up against your g-spot. You clenched your eyes shut, a whimper escaping your lips. “That the spot, sweetheart? Don’t worry. I’ll give it the attention it needs.” He said, flipping your body over so he was on top.

“You did so good, honey. But just let me do the work. You focus on cumming for me.” He instructed you.

He braced his leg against the console and started pounding into you. Your legs began to shake. You wrapped your hands around the headrest, your knuckles turning white.

“I’m almost—” you said, breathlessly. The noises bouncing off the truck walls were almost pornographic. You could hear every thrust. From Tyler’s low groans every time you squeezed around his cock to the sound his cock made as it slipped through your wetness.

His hand flew down to your clit, rubbing small tight circles. “Can’t last much longer, darling,” Tyler moaned. You could tell from his erratic thrusts that he was telling the truth. You vision was starting to go white as the muscles in your abdomen contracted.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna— oh, fuck, Tyler.” You called out as you came around him. Your walls clenched down around his cock, pushing him over the edge. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, bucking his hips into yours and he came inside you.

He collapsed against you, slowing his pace and bringing you both down from your highs. His sweaty body pressed against yours.

“So, how’s that compare to what you were imagining?” Tyler asked you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You gasped for breath. “S-so much better,” you mumbled, breathlessly.

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[yamsfrecklvs]

tits, ass or thighs?

ft. kuroo, iwaizumi, oikawa, bokuto, tsukishima, atsumu, osamu

warnings: i mean... the title speaks for itself i think! implied fem reader ; also not proofread

MDNI!!!

☆ kuroo : tetsuro is a simple man. there isn't a single thing he doesn't like about you. but the man absolutely adores thighs. put on a pair of shorts or a miniskirt and he'll fall to his knees. to be fair, he's a man of taste, so not only does he love thighs, but he's also a sucker for ass. can and will smack it whenever he can, not even in a strictly sexual way, but simply because he likes having his hands on you. ass and thighs will absolutely be used as a pillow, there's no debating it. he will also not so sneakily squeeze your thigh while sitting down or grip it while he’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat. hell, he’d die between your thighs if he could, because let me remind you, this man is an EATER. (just leaving this here)

☆ iwaizumi : i mean, have you seen him? ass. he physically cannot function if he sees you in tight skirts or pants and his hand can always be found in your back pocket if you two are walking together. definitely lightly smacks your butt to celebrate or tell you that you're doing a good job (throwback to him smacking makki's ass bc he scored a point). loves loves looooves to leave marks on it - fingerprints, bites, hickeys, you name it - and he will shamelessly stare at it in public.

☆ oikawa : i think we can all agree on the fact that this man loves tits. seriously. doesn't care if they're big or small, he just loves your chest. he will absolutely use them as pillows and/or slip his hands under your shirt while you're cuddling. loves to see you walk around the house without your bra on, bonus points if you're wearing his clothes. and if there's one thing that makes his knees weak it's seeing tan lines on your chest - one look and he's over the moon. he also probably has a thing for cute lingerie, especially cute bras - or rather, he has a thing for taking said cute lingerie off of you.

☆ bokuto : don't ask him. he genuinely cannot choose, it's physically impossible for him, especially because he's got his hands all over you 99% of the time. probably has a slight preference for ass but he doesn't even realize it. you definitely have his handprints all over your ass because he cannot for the love of god control his strength but he also profusely says sorry if he ever hurts you. either way, wear anything remotely tight or revealing and he's gonna lose his mind.

☆ tsukishima : he will never ever admit it, but tits. he says he doesn’t care and claims to love every part of you equally, but you’ll definitely catch him lacking if you wear anything low cut. of course, he isn’t the type to shamelessly stare at your boobs, we’re talking about kei after all, but you know him, and you can tell his eyes linger on your chest just a little more than usual. and also, they’re the first place he reaches for when cuddling gets a little spicier. probably likes leaving marks on your tits because they’re not as visible as your neck and because he swears that ‘hickeys are stupid’. he still does it nonetheless. again, doesn’t mind if they’re big or small. he just loves them.

☆ atsumu : take a good look at him and tell me this man isn’t a certified boob lover. seriously. bonus points if you have your nips pierced. he just loves boobs. back hug? his hands are finding their way on your chest. cuddling? his face is pressed between your tits. doesn’t give a fuck about looking like an idiot while gawking at them, either. he’s just completely enamoured with them, probably loves to suck on them too. also, i feel like he has a thing for girls with tiny waists, don’t know why. he too loves to spoil you with pretty lingerie and definitely loses his mind whenever he sees a bra strap peeking out of any of your shirts.

☆ osamu : now, hear me out. osamu miya loves to cook. he also loves a woman who EATS. for this reason i’m a firm believer of osamu being a man who loves thighs. loves having his face between them, using them as a pillow, biting into them. he will go insane for thigh highs and absolutely adores when they get bigger as you sit down. there’s nothing this man appreciates more than a pair of pretty legs showing up under a short skirt. he would gladly be crushed by your thighs, but he doesn’t dismiss ass either. generally, i think he likes everything - but thighs, they’re his utter weakness. expect many, many hickeys and marks all over them. and, just like kuroo, i just have the slightest feeling that osamu is a munch - make him suffocate and he’ll die happy.

@yamsfrecklvs