#these books have great banter

[mr-legoman]

It's a shame we didn't't get Evil Yandere female Wayne in the earlier books. Would have been top-tier waifu.

[loverscrossmp3]

rick riordan when i catch you…..when i catch you rick riordan

[barbieaemond]

Religion

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: mild angst, misogyny, banter, pregnancy, childbirth, oral sex, p in v, fingering, orgasm denial, dry humping, overstimulation, brief lactation kink, breeding kink, manipulation (to get some), some good ol' tying up, slandering of the Gods lol

Author's note: this is the third and final part following And I dream of a grave and A curse for a curse but can be read as a standalone. Just keep in mind that Aemond did not cheat on his wife while in Harrenhal. He used Alys only for her visions.

Word count: 13k. Ye have to suffer for your smut darlin'

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language.

taglist: @multyfangirl @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @darylandbethfanforever9 @zaldritzosrose @alphard-hydraes-blog

Her mother had come to King’s Landing three days after she gave birth. Peering through the door, the Princess didn’t know if the woman was more surprised to finally see a baby safely tucked between her daughter’s arms or to witness that she was still breathing. She had chosen to believe both.

Since she was a little girl, she had been instructed in what was coming, for her and all the girls like her: how to serve men, how to serve the Realm. She knew pregnancy could be a time of great distress, physical and otherwise, and for her, it turned out to be nothing more than that.

She spent the first moons plagued by sickness, glaring at the Maesters who told her that morning sickness was perfectly normal. It would've been, if only it had lasted the hours the sun was at its highest. Instead, she couldn’t keep down her breakfast, just like her lunch, or dinner. She had lost weight, she couldn’t stand any kind of smell with the risk of rushing to her pot and empty her stomach.

Then, on one fine morning, while she was walking the gardens with two of her maids, she had suddenly bent over, hissing with pain while clutching her maid’s arm, dreading the trickle running down her thighs.

The Maesters said occasional bleedings might happen, that she only needed to rest and take some tonic to strenghten her body. But that day signaled the end of her peace and the beginning of her confinement.

Because clearly, at the first sign of something going wrong, slipping out of his control, Aemond would panic, albeit showing none of it, standing as tall and stoic as ever and somehow more than he’d ever done now that the Conqueror’s Crown weighted on his head. But she knew better. She knew how to look through all his walls. She knew he was scared—for her, for the baby, for his sister, for his whole family. It was simply too much for a single person to carry all of that on their shoulders. And it was precisely for that reason that she didn’t object to any of his orders. After all, she couldn’t. He was the King now, even if he didn’t choose to style himself as such.

Thus, her chambers became her prison.

Cobwebs didn’t have time to grow because she was quick enough to point them out to the servants. She was aware of the slight drop in the stone tiles just behind the terrace, as of the strategic point where to linger to gain some cool breeze from the sea. She knew the baby liked to sleep upside down in the early afternoon, occasionally kicking hard as he, or she, settled comfortably in her womb.

Aemond had picked some books for her, mostly about history, having her yawning at the third page. She had tried needle work, putting all her good will into it for the sake of doing something, and she had deliberately chosen to believe she was undeniably good at it. But that was a very generous lie. 

“What is that supposed to be exactly?” Aemond asked one day, peeking over her shoulder as he reached her on the terrace.

She didn’t look up, keeping her eyes fixed on her embroidery tambour, working the needle in and out. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He leaned down until she felt the long silver strands tickling her head and even without turning, she could feel him grimacing. “A bird?”

At that, she had raised her head, reading all the disbelief on his face. “It is a dragon. For the cradle.”

Aemond had simply furrowed his brow, unable for the life of him to consider what he saw as something even remotely resembling a dragon. But he thought better than to anger his pregnant wife, given her late sour spirit, but especially in light of how fiercely she had started to stick the needle in, likely picturing to stick it into him instead. He had built the most fake pleasant smile he could master and said “Very well. Excellent work, my love.”

“Thank you, husband.”

The trouble was that, as time went by, she only became sourer. She grew more and more uncomfortable, too tight in her own skin. Her back hurt, her breasts hurt, and she was starting to believe she was carrying a real dragon, with fangs and all; she had no other explanation for how hot she constantly felt, forced to lie in a thin white chemise all the time, despite the winds carrying the winter.

But maybe there was another reason why her spirits were so low and sour. She had come to learn that pregnancy affected every aspect of her life, including the most pleasant one.

She would grow wet for a kiss. She would close her legs and rub them together upon seeing him rise from the bathtub. She would moan into his mouth if he so much as grazed her nipples with his knuckles. But as she grew bigger and bigger, along with the discomfort, kisses and some intimate brushing were all she would get from him. Aemond had grown distant, not only with his presence, due to all the duties he had to fulfill wearing the Crown, but even when he was there, in their chambers, sleeping next to her, she felt him leagues and leagues away.

“Pregnancy is a very hard time for a woman.” The Dowager Queen had said to her “It is overwhelming to think that you are never alone and yet...somehow you are.”

She’d never understood what her good mother meant until she was confined to her chambers, alone with her thoughts and her fears. She didn’t expect Aemond to do something, this was women’s business. And she knew his reluctance to lie with her rested solely on concern and love for her.

No matter how much he craved to take her, he had decided to put his husband’s rights away for the delicate final moons until the baby was born. He still felt guilty, for Harrenhal, for the witch, for forsaking her only to get drunk on visions and prophecies. Yet, those visions turned out to be true. He had shut that voice in his head and tried to make amends. But they didn’t have the time to mend themselves together, to knit all the distrust and suspicions into something good; the baby was coming, and it seemed he or she did nothing but grow them more apart. 

He saw how tired she was, how some days she couldn’t even get out of bed. And how useless he felt when he would catch her crying, like that night when he found her all alone on the terrace at the hour of the owl.

She was sitting on her chaise filled with cushions when Aemond walked around her. Given the state of his white shirt and hair, he had likely just awakened and hadn’t found her beside him.

“What are you doing out here? You will catch a cold.”

“I cannot sleep.” she had kept her eyes far, on the Black Water Bay, far from him. But he saw them anyway, her reddened eyes.

“You cannot stay here in your condition.” He said almost tiredly, but when she didn’t even blink at his words, he called her name, with the tone he used in the Throne Room.

“Aemond, please.” She whispered, turning her head. “I—” she bit her tongue, unwilling to put this on him, but she knew he wouldn’t let go until she was safely back in bed. So, she said “I don’t want to hear her.”

It took him less than a moment to understand what she meant. Helaena. Helaena who lost a child, who saw her flesh and blood horribly murdered before her eyes. Helaena who couldn’t stop wailing in the dead of night.

She had looked at him, seeing that torn thing, broken and raw like a split wound; shame and guilt and rage all at once. Then, he lowered himself onto his knees until he took her cold hands and squeezed them tight. His mouth opened, but she was faster. “Don’t say it.”

You cannot keep such a promise, you cannot keep us safe. No matter how many times you say it. But she wouldn’t take that solace away from him, not that plainly. The more he said it, the more he seemed to believe it. So be it.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, and there was a beautiful, heartbreaking desperation in his hushed voice. “Tell me what to do.”

She had built a convincing smile, running her hand through his loose hair and pushing some strands back. “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

Her spirits during the day would slightly improve. And between the Council and some hearings in the Throne Room, he always saved some time to go visit her in their chambers. She didn’t seem to enjoy being watched like a toddler, but deep down she cherished his concern. She cherished the way his hands would gently hold her own, or caress her hair, her belly. She found it hard to believe those hands could bestow such reverence and violence at the same time. And even in his absence, he managed to ensure she always had anything she needed. Even blackberries in early autumn.

“Myra, where have you been?” She asked in a late afternoon, when one of her most loyal maids entered her chambers after disappearing for the whole day.

The young girl had an awful look. She seemed exhausted, as if she had walked the entirety of Flea Bottom, twice. “Apologies, my Princess. It took me quite a while to find blackberries.”

“Seven Hells, it is only a craving. You did not have to go all the way through King’s Landing to find me blackberries.”

"No, I-I ought to.”

The Princess paused, frowning at the young girl. “Did someone else tell you that you ought to?”

“Well…yes…” the maid said, sinking her gaze to the floor “The King—uhm Prince Regent.”

She sighed deeply, and with heavy steps, she walked towards the terrace; her maid was immediately at her side to help her. “What did he tell you?” the Princess asked as they reached the chair outside.

The girl waited for her to sit, slowly and awkwardly given her big belly; then, a little timidly, she said “He…ordered me to go look for blackberries and not to…bother coming back if I didn’t find them.”

The Princess rolled her eyes in quite an unlady-like manner, “How in the name of Seven did he know about it?” She asked, grimacing as she desperately tried to find a comfortable position. “I have barely seen him this morning.”

The young maid helped her, fixing some cushions behind her back and whispered “The White Cloak at the door…I suspect he reports everything to his Grace.”

The notion didn’t seem to strike her that much, or maybe she was too tired, too uncomfortable and too hot to comment on the matter, or even scoff at it.

She grabbed a fan from her maid’s hands and unceremoniously shook her shoes off, placing her swollen feet on the cool tiles. Closing her eyes, she basked in that small relief; the floor was cold, the sun was about to set, and the baby was sleeping.

According to the Maesters, her time was close. She was eager to meet this little person but in truth, she just wanted it to end. She hated having no control over her body, her spirits, her marriage. She missed being a wife and being treated as such, not just as the mother of his child. She had come to think that, deep down, any woman felt that way, but they were forced to hide everything behind a joyful smile while sinking to their knees to thank the Mother. Wasn’t that the sole purpose of any girl in the world? To bleed on a birthing bed? Wasn’t that the way men measured women’s value?

She swallowed hard as the question spun in her head. Am I finally worthy of you, Aemond?

She wouldn’t dare ask him. 

“What is it? Are you unwell?”

She was too lost in her thoughts to even hear his footsteps on the terrace. As her gaze flew up, she read the deep concern on his face, all lumped in the steep furrow between his eyebrows. He must’ve seen her grimacing, thinking she was in some pain. She was, but she was too much of a coward to tell him.

She resumed her fanning, averting her gaze and stretching her legs out further on the floor. “I feel like I’m boiling.”

“Yes, I can see that.” He deadpanned, raking his eye over her disheveled state; sprawled on that chair with her legs slightly open, her white chemise all crumpled and unbuttoned, and a bead of sweat on the forehead, in the crevice of her swollen breasts. He thought the times when a mere look at this woman would make him hard were gone once the novelty of having a wife, someone rightly and thoroughly his, had dissipated. He was wrong.

“I’m well aware of my lack of decency.” She replied, seeing how he was staring, the little inquiring curve in his eyebrow. “I’m afraid I care very little about decency at this moment. Blame it on your son.”

His lips curled up, watching her gather her loose hair with one hand while she kept fanning herself quickly with the other.

“Are you still inclined to believe for certain that it’s a boy?”

“I know it’s a boy. Only men can be this insufferable.”

That little smile on his lips lingered, deepened, and then he moved, going to stand behind her. “Let me.” He said, and took her hair between his hands. She couldn’t see what he was doing but got the gist as she felt his deft fingers moving and her neck free to get some air. When he walked around the chaise to sit beside her, she saw that his hair was loose. He had tied her hair with the black lace he always wore to prevent the silver strands from ending up in front of his eye.

She loved to see him like this: hair loose, eyepatch lost somewhere in a drawer, sitting next to her, even without saying a word. The sapphire seemed to match his eye, glowing a soft violet under the setting sun. She felt that familiar lump in her throat, as she stared at him, a restless thing flowing through her whole body, demanding to be released only to be trapped under her teeth, biting down her lower lip, starved and yearning.

“A little bird told me you put a hound on my trail.” she said at one point, shutting her little fan.

Aemond didn’t look surprised to acknowledge that she knew. He had actually ventured with himself about how long it would have taken her to realise he was spying on her every move.

“You are well aware of my duties now.” He said, turning his head to look at her. But not quite. His eye seemed to linger everywhere at once, fleeting, snatching a look here and there, her legs, her sweated neck, her belly…his own testament, as if she wasn’t one already.

You left your mark on her just as she did on you. Those were Alys’ words, at which he had ugly sneered. And she had laughed at the sight, eerily, as someone who owned the truth. I’m your spoil of war and yet, you speak to me ten paces away. What are you afraid of, Kinslayer? That your skin would burn like brimstone if you touched another woman?

“Besides,” he resumes “any lady would be flattered by her husband’s genuine concern.”

“You could flatter me in different ways.” was her prompt answer and she moved incredibly fast, given her impediment, getting close to him until she filled his nostrils. She smelled different since she was pregnant. A thick smell, musky. She tasted differently. Sweeter and somehow sourer. He swallowed at the mere memory. “We have talked about this.”

“And I’ve talked to the Maesters.”

His head spun around, forcing her to stifle a smile at his ever strictly reserved nature.

“They said there’s nothing wrong, or remotely dangerous, if we…engage in our conjugal duties.”

He tried to ignore her hand, her fingers traveling up his arm like a spider’s legs. “Did you need the Maesters to learn that?”

“No, but you do. You hang on their lips…I wish you hung on mine.”

Aemond heard her voice dropping a tone, and dropped his chin down, looking at her hand roving on his chest, shamelessly slipping beneath his dark green doublet, skin to skin. She glided on his planes slowly, making sure to trap one of his nipples in the little hollow between her index and middle.

“I don’t need them to know about my private matters.” He said mindlessly, trying to hold a grip on his thoughts.

“Seven Hells. It baffles me to witness how prudish you desperately want to appear while I perfectly know how debauched you really are, to the bone.”

“My debauchery is confined to these four walls.”

“Oh, is it? What about that time on our way to the Grand Sept?” She tilted her head, so she was talking almost in his ear. “Do you remember?”

Her hand on his chest was burning, or was it his own skin? His own flesh simmering wherever she touched him.

“Don’t do that.” She whispered when she saw his long legs cross. “Let me see. You have condemned me to do nothing else.”

His eye chased her hand as she grabbed his knee and pushed to uncross his legs, so that she could see, the outline of his cock through the breeches, see how he ached for her. “Do you remember what you did in the wheelhouse?” She asked again, looking at him; the sapphire was the only thing flashing violet now. His eye was pitch black.

“You put your hand beneath my gowns…” she said and her hand slid up against his thigh “you grabbed me, harshly.” And she did the same, forcing his mouth open and a shallow breath out of his throat. “And you grinned…because my garments were soaked.” he closed his eye for a moment, perhaps recalling, or maybe because her hand was moving, palming all his length through the breeches.

“And then you slipped your fingers underneath…” and again, she did just so, unbuckling his belt and sinking her hand in. He opened his eye, and basked in what he saw: that sort of silent, desperate plea in the little wrinkle between her eyebrows, in her heaving chest, in the way she was rubbing her legs together.

Thus, just when she was about to grab him, he grabbed her wrist instead and crashed his mouth against hers with a low growling sound. She could do nothing but moan, giving him open room to slip his tongue in and taste every corner, driving his body closer and closer, but not too much as to crush her.

She, on the other hand, felt free, finally, to roam, to rummage. Her hands grabbed and pulled everywhere, at his doublet, the collar, the buttons, the thin white shirt underneath it all, until everything was loose, and she was free to touch him, all the while making the sweetest wanton sounds, close to desperate whines. “Please, Aemond…” she begged freely, holding his face “just this once…please…”

He shushed her with another harsh kiss and with a free hand, he clutched her white nightgown into his fist, pulling up, enough to stick his arm between her legs. She spread them for him, panting with anticipation, and stopped breathing altogether when he cupped her core with the large palm of his hand. Aemond trapped her lower lip with his teeth, biting softly upon feeling how wet she was, dripping on his fingers, so much that he wished to fall on his knees and wipe it clean with his tongue.

“Please…” she breathed, barely rocking her hips to urge him to touch her.

“Hush.” he said, and curled his fingers, brushing his fingertips against her centre, gaining a delicious wince from her. “Tell me of the wheelhouse.”

She smiled breathlessly, her eyes hungry and heavy, full of lust. “It was the first time I wore green.” she started to tell. “We were still betrothed. I wanted to impress you.”

“Hmm. You certainly did.” He remarked, watching her closely while rubbing his index pad against her entrance, teasingly, making her squirm. “Go on.”

She felt like burning, her face hot for the sun, the baby, the ache in her lower belly, stirring and coiling. “You told the White Cloak to take another round…” she said, breathing with her mouth open. “You grabbed my waist and forced me on your lap.”

“And you pushed me away. Twice.” he’d laughed, flashing a grin that made her willing to shove him away, to pull him closer. “What a farse you put on.” he continued, leaving a chaste kiss on her neck that resulted in her writhing some more, pushing her pelvis against his hand. “I had to cover your mouth for your mewling. You were so fucking loud.”

It was then that he finally granted her some mercy, slipping one finger inside her drenched lips, spilling a long gasp from her.

“No. Not quite.” He observed cruelly and slid another finger, this time gaining a proper loud moan. “That’s more like it.”

His two fingers started to pump slowly, and yet she was making the lewdest sounds he’d ever spilled from her, arching her back as far as she could, scrunching her face almost in pain and pulling at his collar, twisting, as if he were torturing her instead of giving her pleasure. She made his cock stir painfully, his teeth grind for the ache, for the fact that she was coating his whole hand. “Easy now…” he warned her, his tone all husky. “You don’t want to come already, do you? ‘Tis the only thing you’ll get from me, sweetling…you better make it last.” 

She whined in annoyance, forcing another grin on his ruthless lips, and with that same ruthlessness, he slowed his ministrations, only to cup one of her breasts with his free hand, squeezing softly until the thin, silky fabric slipped down, revealing her pink, swollen nipple. “I must say…I’m relieved you will summon a wet nurse…so these will be all mine.”

She had to stifle a breathless laugh at that. “Being jealous of your child is a bit too much, even for you…”

“Oh, my love” he crooned, freeing the other breast “I am jealous of the clothes on your skin.”

Wasting no time, he wrapped his lips around her nipple, causing her to arch against him once more, one hand flying down his shoulder, fisting his doublet, twisting it as he swirled his tongue and hummed with delight dripping from his tone, as if he were tasting honey, and the sweetest ever made.

His fingers resumed their frantic rhythm, sinking deep inside and stretching, hitting that special spot that made her sight go black, reduced to a mess of sweat coating every inch of her skin and a string of moans growing hoarse and high-pitched.

“Are you close? Hmm?” he rasped “How about another? Can you take another for me?”

He slipped a third finger in, causing her to wince and cling to his shoulders with her mouth open in a silent scream. “Good girl.” He praised at the sight. He wished he could savor it for a little longer, he wished to keep doing that again and again, until the sun went down and rose again, until there was nothing but ruin around them.

But she was so close now, he could feel it in her tensed arms around his shoulders, in her clenching walls around his hand, and quite frankly, the ache in his breeches was unbearable, twitching at every moan and squelching sound of his fingers inside her flesh. 

She came loudly, curling her ankles on the ground and writhing in his hold as if in a delirium. He kept her still, his hand buried inside her, feeling the quick pulsing that rivaled the one in her heart. And he watched her, gasping for air and throwing her head back, utterly spent, hair all sticked to her forehead. In his eye she had never looked this beautiful.

He pulled his fingers out, making her wince slightly, and brought them to her mouth, smearing her spent desire on her own lips, like the final touch to a painting. And then he kissed her, humming at her bittersweet taste. He held her face gently, grabbing her jaw and angling her head to taste her better, eliciting a blissful sigh from the back of her throat that made his hardness throb. As if she had felt that, her hand had slipped between them with purpose, sinking past all his layers and taking hold of him.

She rejoiced in the little whimper he gave her, and started to work her hand up and down, making it impossible for him to kiss her any further, if not for a sloppy and panting mess of spit and teeth. 

Given the unbearable pressure building past his navel, he knew he wouldn’t last long. And she knew that too. But she didn’t want to have him this way. Awkwardly, she stood up and spread his legs to make herself some room, but as soon as Aemond, despite the lack of blood in his mind, caught her intentions, he stopped her, grabbing her arms firmly.

“No…” he croaked. “Not on your knees.”

She couldn’t help the little surprise on her face. Aemond had never been this considerate, especially in bed. He could be gentle in his own way, subtly. Little hidden things in the way he would run his fingers through her hair once she had reached her peak, the way he would regain air once he’d spilled inside her, breathing into her neck and running his lips lazily against her skin. But most of the times, he was very diligent, all focused in giving her and himself the pleasure they both craved; he was somehow harsh, ruthless, a mirror of who he was outside the bedroom, possessed by some kind of urgency that would break her in the most beautiful and cruel way and put her back together at once.

But then again, she imagined the promise of his heir living inside her was affecting even one of the most ruthless of men.

She sat down again and watched him stand up, his breath labored and open-mouthed as he looked down at her, working the few laces of his breeches still tied. She didn’t need an invitation, an order, a mere tilt of his chin to sit upright and put her hands alongside his snatched waist.

She looked up, and he found himself swallowing hard, cursing silently at the sight of her looking straight into his eye with his cock a breath away from her, all hard and glistening on the tip. Shamefully, he thought that would have done it for him.

A coarse grunt left his lips as soon as she wrapped her mouth around it, teasingly swirling her tongue on the slit without ever averting her gaze from him. He hissed painfully when her lips started to travel along his length, trying with all his might to hold back and not spill into her mouth so soon.

She, on the other hand, seemed eager to watch him come undone, just as he had done to her a few moments earlier. She started to suck him eagerly, like a starved creature, because on all those nights and days when he had taken her apart, learning every inch of her and how to bend it to his will, she had done just the same.

She knew how to make him wince and moan openly, while on her knees on their bedroom floor or on a fucking terrace during a late afternoon, with likely anyone to walk on them at any moment. With the Gods watching.

She didn't care. The Gods didn't care for them anyway. Let them see to whom she fell to her knees.

He couldn’t stop looking, how pretty she was like this, swallowing him whole, up to the hilt, hitting her throat with a gagging sound. So lecherous, so holy.

He was so close he had to bite his lip to restrain himself, letting out a string of curses until he felt the pressure growing stronger, and then, he thought, he might as well have it his way.

“Stop…” he croaked, grabbing her cheek but delicately, slipping out of her mouth and running his thumb over her sore jaw. She closed her slicked mouth, a drop of spit running down her chin and she looked at him, with such devotion he thought he had nothing to envy the Gods.

“Let me…” he pleaded, wiping her chin clean with his finger. “Let me fuck your mouth, sweetling. Would you?”

A question that needed no answer. Indeed, he wasted no time and grabbed the back of her head, tilting it slightly up for a better angle. He sheathed himself all the way in, gasping deeply at feeling the hot walls of her mouth, her cheeks hollowing.

His fingers curled into her hair, but never in a hurtful way, enough to keep her still as he started to move his hips against her face back and forth, his open mouth quivering as the pleasure began to build where it left off.

“Fuck—” he cursed once, and then twice, fucking her mouth faster to chase his peak, pulling ever so slightly at her scalp until he went still altogether, pushed his waist hard against her, and grunted loudly, in a pretty uncharacteristic way, as his cock twitched and spilled down her throat until the last drop.

Panting harshly, he pulled himself out and watched her close her mouth, eyes fixed on him, working her cheeks and making no mystery of the white essence on her tongue before swallowing it, thoroughly.

Aemond let himself fall on that chaise and she watched, she drank that sight: his hair all disheveled and damp with sweat, a shade of pink on his cutting cheekbones as he slowly pulled himself together, breathing through his open mouth while buckling his belt and breeches.

“I think I’m going to take a bath.” She said at one point, clumsily standing up. He had mumbled something in return, still caught in the throes of what they had done, but before she got back inside, she turned and said “Oh, just so you know…all of this was a ploy.”

She smiled cunningly at his frowning. “I never had any cravings. And I knew about the White Cloak at the door since the first day you put him there. You are not as subtle as you think you are, my love.”

A man of few words, but loud actions.

Her pains came during a peaceful afternoon.

In haste, nursemaids began their frantic rounds in and out of the Princess’ rooms like soldiers, carrying hot water and boiled rags. The Dowager Queen abandoned her perch beside Queen Helaena, or what was left of her, and went to assist the Princess. Having borne four children, she had quite a bit of advice to dispense, things she had learned on her own skin, things that any Master would never have told her because oblivious and convinced they knew what happened to a woman's body at such a delicate time based on how deep they had buried their nose in an old dusty tome.

Alicent helped the Princess rise from the bed, clutched her arm firmly and helped her walk. She said it was vital to walk, that it would ease her pain and help the baby come sooner. She told her to squat when the pain hit. She rubbed her back and wiped the sweat off her face as if she were her own daughter. It felt like that. Even though the Princess seemed to face it all with a stiff lip, Alicent could see that she was scared and in terrible pain, that she probably wished for her mother to be there. She had wished the same, no matter how many times she had faced it.

“Your Grace?” The Princess asked after another wave of pain had come and gone.

“Yes, child?”

“Do you think your son would forgive me If I said this one is both the first and the last?”

The Queen had smiled at that. “If the Gods bless you with more children, it will be easier, I can assure you. The first time is always rough. But it shouldn’t be long now.”

Well, her good mother turned out to be wrong. Because the pain plagued her for a full night, giving her no peace. At the hour of the nightingale, the nursemaids forced her to bed, and she gladly went. She was exhausted, she could no longer walk without hissing at every step, and by that time she was so used to the pain she no longer whined or anything, only scrunched her face and ground her teeth.

The servants stripped her bare and replaced her sweat-soaked nightgown with a fresh one. They dabbed her face with a wet cloth, but she could barely register anything, floating into unconsciousness only to be brought back to the present as another pain choked her breath.

“Perhaps some Milk of the Poppy?” One of the nurses said at one point.

“No.” the Maester said. “She may need to start pushing any moment now. We need her vigil.”

Her heavy-lidded eyes opened, wandering helplessly around the room. Useless research, for she knew he wouldn’t be there. She didn’t expect him to be. The birthing bed was no place for men, save for the Maesters, although she was starting to doubt their real usefulness when all they could do was pull her nightgown up, take a close look and shake their heads. They might as well let Aemond be there.

She imagined he must’ve been waiting outside, or in the Council, and yet she ached to see him. She closed her eyes and searched for him in her mind, clutching the sheets in her fist as if she could clutch his hand instead. And then she felt someone’s hand closing around her own, loosening her grip. Alicent, smiling down at her, and holding her hand tight.

It was holding her good mother’s hand that, at the first light of dawn, she gave birth to her child. A boy, healthy and all screeching as soon as he was out of her womb, clad in blood and grease.

Aemond had decided to name the child Aenar, if it was a boy, after the first Targaryen Lord, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes or force her tears back when he was finally admitted to their chambers and took their son in his arms for the first time. 

Alicent was beaming at the sight, squeezing his arm. “Congratulations, my son.”

But Aemond didn’t seem to even register her mother’s words, or presence, utterly enraptured by his little creature. He cast a look at his wife, a secret little look that told her how proud he was of her, how relieving it was for both to have come this far after all that happened, to have this little thing, this little ounce of peace amidst all the chaos of war.

What she didn’t know at that time was that Aenar was not exactly a peaceful child.

She had believed there had finally come the time when she could be herself again. But from the earliest days, Aenar proved not to be an easy child to deal with. The newborn cried and cried for hours, plagued by belly aches, and seemingly able to calm down only when in his mother’s arms. They had obviously called on a wet nurse; highborn ladies did not feed their children themselves, let alone a Princess. But Aenar had categorically refused to latch onto his wet nurse’s breasts. Alicent had proposed to summon another one, but as they dawdled and wavered, the Princess felt her heart break into pieces each time she held her little baby in her arms, all red in the face, hungry and in pain, turning his head towards her cleavage, desperate for her milk. Thus, she had put aside ceremonial court and all of that and chose to feed him herself.

But it was a strenuous task. The Maesters had warned her it would be tiring, sleep depriving, but she really had no choice. She had to do it every three hours, sometimes less, because being latched onto her breast seemed the only thing that would prevent the baby from screaming at the top of his lungs all day long. The nursemaid had recommended fennel and chamomile for belly aches. And, instantly, Aemond had ordered an astounding amount of both to be delivered to the Red Keep’s kitchens.

Queen Alicent taught her to hold the baby on his stomach, to rock him, but not too fast. They told her to take several breaks during breastfeeding, to make the baby belch often and prevent air from his belly. In the first week after Aenar was born, her mind was all but a vessel of do this, do that. No, not this way. Don’t ever wake the baby when he’s sleeping. Try to sleep when he does. Don’t eat spicy dishes.

In the midst of all of this, Aemond turned more and more suffocating in all his well-hidden, self-consuming concern. A handful of white cloaks, the most trusted by Ser Criston, were constantly guarding the door, day and night. He had a secret passageway that led to his rooms walled up, and she could swear he slept with his dagger beneath the pillow. Evidently not at peace with such extreme measures, he had the cradle moved to his side of the bed, within his reach, so that every time she had to wake up because the baby was wailing, she had to walk around the bed and pray that she would not tumble to the floor in the dark.

However, she was at least grateful to have Aemond’s support, for the little he could do. If he wasn’t occupied with warfare or hearings, he spent all the time he had with her and their child. And in those moments, no matter how exhausted she was, she would always find the strength to smile at the view when he held their baby, tracing his long fingers over the velvety grizzled skin of Aenar’s small hands; even when he’d speak to him in Valyrian, at which she had frowned at first.

“You do realise he’s one week old?”

“”Tis never too soon.”

“Mh. What’s next? Bring him to the skies on dragonback?”

“I’ll have you know Vhagar is perfectly safe to—“

“Over my dead body.” 

He had smiled and stood up, going to place the baby in her arms. Aenar immediately began to fuss, whining and turning his head against her chest. She had started to unbutton her chemise but then stopped, looking up, where Aemond stood still like a sentry, and watching.

She raised an eyebrow. “Am I putting up a show?”

“Usually, you do.” He drawled. “Am I not allowed to watch? It seems my son and I already share a few interests.”

She looked away, smiling, and then she freed her left breast, watching as the baby immediately latched onto it. A moment later, Aemond took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. He stared at her, and she saw that familiar glint his eye.

He trailed his thumb over her lip, barely breaching inside. “Soon?” was all he asked.

“Soon.” Was all she answered.

The soreness and the bleeding were reducing, and she was back in her tight flesh.

But the Gods must have cursed them some more, because that “soon” never seemed to become “now”.

The sickness didn’t seem willing to leave the poor child alone, along with his parents and the entirety of the Red Keep who had to suffer through his heartbreaking cries day and night.

The Princess had started to feel hopeless and guilty, no matter how many times the nursemaids, and even Queen Alicent, told her it was not her fault, that it was natural. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself they were right. Her heart broke any time the baby cried, wriggling desperately in her arms, in Aemond’s, in the cradle. She would end up crying too as she tried to soothe him, caressing his back with her cheek resting on his timidly silver-haired head.

She was working herself up to exhaustion, often falling asleep with the baby still latched onto her breast. It was Aemond who would take the baby to the cradle, it was Aemond who would button her chemise and pull up the blankets.

She hit rock bottom two weeks after Aenar’s birth, when she realised she hadn’t bathed in four days. Even Aemond, she could swear, was starting to look a little ragged around the edges. You don’t want to be King and take decisions in the middle of a war only to come back to a screaming infant at night.

But then, like a curse lifting, the sickness stopped. Amidst all those days she had stopped counting or even being aware of which was which, Aenar stopped crying. She was ashamed to admit that the first night he slept peacefully in his cradle, she had gone to check on him five times, to see if he was still breathing. 

She began to gradually return to her former self, able to enjoy motherhood with a more rested mind, at least. Physically, she still felt worn out, given how much time she spent breastfeeding or rocking the baby to sleep. But now she was strong enough to take the baby out, walking the gardens with her maids and smiling proudly as the court ladies stopped to congratulate themselves and say how beautiful her baby was.

By doing this, though, she also became aware that she had lived in a bubble for so long that she had almost forgotten there was a war raging, there were battles being fought across the realm.

Reality hits her one day when Alicent goes to visit her and her grandson, bringing the news of a very important victory near the Honeywine, a large river flowing in the Reach, thanks to Prince Daeron Targaryen who had arrived all victorious on that very morning, riding his blue scaled dragon, Tessarion.

The news stuns her for a moment. She had no idea of it, partly because she had been too caught up with Aenar, but also because Aemond had not told her. Yet her family came from the Reach, they lived there, not very far from the Honeywine; her older brother fought for the Green Army. Still, not a word from Aemond.

Taking advantage of Aenar sleeping and the fact that Alicent offered to watch him, she leaves her chambers and heads for the Council. There’s a bustle of lords coming out of the door when she gets there, barely paying her any attention as they hastily babble about armies and supplies and men; always more men to be sent to slaughter.

She stops at the door, widening her eyes at the silver head crossing the threshold, one she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Prince Daeron.”

The youngest son of Queen Alicent and late King Viserys was nothing but a boy. But war had taken its toll on him too. He stood like a man, a Prince, and more than anything, a skilled dragon rider.

“Princess.” He says, tilting his chin down.

She curtsies and sees an immediate gentle smile softening his Valyrian features. “I believe some congratulations are in order.”

“Well, in all fairness, you shall be the most celebrated, my Prince. I’ve just heard of your recent victory.”

His gentle smile lingers, but loses its sparkle. “I must say I much prefer to celebrate life…rather than…the death of innocent men and women.”

There can’t be objections to such a statement; she just nods and casts a distracted glance inside the Council.

“Please…” the Prince says then, making room to let her pass “I won’t keep you away from my brother.”

She turns her head and smiles, tightly. “I’m afraid it is your brother who keeps himself away from me.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the Crown.”

“Indeed.”

The Prince bows to her and leaves.

Closing the door behind her, she glances at Aemond sitting at the head of the table, in the King’s chair, with such effortlessness that he seems to have been born exclusively for that purpose.

“I thought I heard you.” he says absent-mindedly, scribbling down a small piece of parchment. She slowly walks to the windows, casting a single furtive glance down, but she can’t possibly make out what he’s writing, or to whom.

“How’s—"

“Aenar is fine.” She cuts him off. “He’s with your mother, sleeping.”

He stops scribbling, glancing up for a moment. Her voice is tight, cutting. He knows that tone. It’s the same one she used in Harrenhal, as if he should have fallen to his knees and be grateful for the mere fact that she was speaking to him. But he doesn’t have time today to circle around her like a coiling snake, so he goes straight to the point. “Is something the matter?”

“You didn’t tell me of the Honeywine.” She says after a moment, gazing at the Bay.

Aemond sighes, a sign that he was expecting such a question. “You were looking after our son.”

“And?” she’s quick to rebut, quick to reach him at the table and stare down at him. “You didn’t deem it appropriate to inform me of a battle raging in my family lands?”

“I am your family.” He says, stoically, as if common law, and she has to stifle a bitter laugh. The nerve of him. “That is a very lovely concept. Strange how it got lost on you in Harrenhal.”

“Enough!” he barks, and the sudden harshness makes the quill pierce through parchment. “I thought I’d made myself clear.” He warns. “I don’t want to hear another word about the witch. Ever.”

She obediently looks down, regretting having said that, but not entirely. Perhaps she has spent so much time beside him that she, too, can’t let go of her grudges.

“I did not tell you, for I did not want to upset you.” He says, resuming his collected tone. “You were worn out by the baby, I didn’t want to put more weight on your shoulders.”

She knows he’s sincere. Still, her nod is stiff as she looks away, biting her cheek. She is just so sick of it all. Of being regarded as a cunt to be bred at first and now a weakling nailed to a cradle with an infant sucking the life out of her. She knows she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.

Aemond leaves the quill and stands up, circling until he’s close to her. “Your family is fine.” He tells her, lingering behind her. “Daeron spoke to your brother this morning.”

She keeps nodding, keeping her gaze down on the table, all scattered with maps and little dragon-shaped tokens, some black, some green. She frowns, letting warfare soothe her petty spirits. “What is this?”

“Our next move. A defense plan…which happens to be an attack plan too.”

“A pincher?”

She turns just in time to see the little surprise on his face. “My brother talked of nothing else when we were children. He slept with warfare books as pillows.”

“Hmm.” He muses, and takes a step closer, slipping his arm around her waist and resting his chin on her collarbone. “Show me.”

She shudders at his sudden proximity, at his breath blowing on her neck. She shudders at anything these days. A hand on her back, his legs fumbling beneath the covers and casually brushing against hers. She’s tight as a fiddle string.

“A pincher is nothing else but a decoy.” She explains. “You let your enemy believe they have you trapped…” and in saying this, she grabs his hand and moves it across the map. “And then…at the right moment…” she makes him hold a green token between his fingers and brings it near a little division of black ones “you strike on both flanks.” And with a swift flick of her wrist, his hand scatters all the black tokens across the table. To do so, she must lean over the table, accidentally brushing her lower back against his bulge. He’s not hard, yet, but it thrills her to feel the lightning quick effect she has on him.

“Hmm. Good. Very good.” He praises next to her ear as she withdraws her hand; his voice is so low it makes her spine shiver. But she keeps herself grounded and asks “When will this happen?”

“Soon.” he whispers, placing his hand flat on her stomach. “There’s another Small Council shortly but Aegon wanted to be present. They went to fetch him.”

“Well, then I shall retire to my chambers. I feel a bit lightheaded from all the thinking.”

He ignores her jab and keeps her still by the arm when she tries to move. There’s a little sly smirk pulling at his lips. “I have some time to spare.”

“And how do you propose we spend it?”

“Enough with your pantomimes. I can feel your legs squirming.”

Curse him.

He slips the other hand straight into her corset, cupping her breast and humming with delight at how full she is, how it fills his large hand entirely. “Are you wet for me, my love?”

His teeth sink down her lobe, and at the same time, he pinches her nipple between his thumb and index, forcing an indecorous whine out of her. “My, my…” he laughs darkly, torturing her sensitive skin until he feels something wet on his fingertips, probably milk. “I could make you come just by doing this.”

Powerless, she yields, leaning completely against him, rubbing her lower back for some friction. “What if someone enters?”

“We’ll make it quick.”

“But I don’t want it to be quick.” She pants, grabbing his hand on her breast and squeezing; the other crawls behind her back to try to feel him through his breeches. 

Hissing, when she starts to palm him, he says “Then we let them watch. They get to see how pretty you look when you come on my fingers, or my cock. Which should it be?”

“Both. Anything.” She answers hastily, pulling at his collar to bring him close enough to kiss him. He hums contentedly when she does, twirling his tongue around hers. It soon gets messy, each of them fighting for dominance, winning and losing in turn, until he spins her around, so he can look at her and with both his hands, he seizes her gowns and pulls up, furiously rummaging through them.

“How many fucking layers have you on?”

“I’m not pregnant anymore.” she points out, unbuckling his belt.

“Pity. Perhaps I should fuck another one into you to keep you in your skimpy robes.”

“Don’t you dare, Aemond—” 

“Gods be good, brother! That eager to make another one?”

They both startle like little children caught doing something naughty, turning their heads towards the door, where two servants are carrying King Aegon on a chair. Aemond sighs annoyingly, letting go of her gowns as she does with his belt, trying to compose herself.

“My King.” She says, greeting her good brother with a tight little smile.

Aegon’s appearance has improved since Rook’s Rest, just as the burnings, but he carries with him the smell of Milk of the Poppy and rotting skin everywhere he goes. 

“Good-sister. What are you doing here? Apart from being ravished by my brother... should you not be breastfeeding?”

Aemond gives him a level stare and then looks at her, hoping she will not take the bait. Aegon and his wife never got along well, to say the least. Things had only escalated with time, to the point that whenever they found themselves in the same room, one of them would wisely leave, his wife most of the times, lest they start to hiss at each other like two cats fighting for territory.

“What if I intend to stay and attend the council?”

Aegon giggles, as the servants put down the chair, and after a quick glance below her neck he says “I’m afraid you would be a little distracting. And my brother is not one for sharing.”

Before she can ask what in the Seven he is blabbing about, Aemond takes her arm and makes her turn, shielding her from his brother and the Lords coming through the door.

“You should retire.” He curtly says.

“Are you taking his side again?” she asks, wriggling her arm to free herself from his hold.

“You’re leaking.” He informs her, flatly. 

At that, she frowns and dips her chin down, watching the front of her dress practically soaked in milk. “Oh.”

“I shall join you when I’m done here.” He tells her, and lets her out through the side doors.

Aemond did not join her.

The council lasted until the evening, a recurring thing when Aegon attended. Aemond was stern and concise in his decisions. Aegon liked to laze around, enjoying the wine in his cup, rattling his younger brother’s nerves. Deep down, she was convinced that Aegon did not really want to attend the Council because really interested in what to do, but only to remind his brother that he was still breathing and that the Conqueror's Crown on Aemond's head was a temporary measure.

But it didn’t matter. She would join him for the banquet in honor of Prince Daeron.

She was thrilled to go. It was not a proper feast. Since Helaena had fallen into grief, the atmosphere within the walls of the Keep had become rather austere. But a banquet still meant an occasion for conviviality, and after weeks and weeks spent locked up within four walls, the Princess was eager to spend some time outside her chambers. She had felt like a terrible mother at the mere thought. She loved Aenar, how could she not? But she also loved herself, her family, her marriage, Aemond. Especially Aemond.

Once she had put the baby to sleep, she had ordered her maid to prepare one of her favorite dresses, a green one, and to tie her hair in an elegant braided bun. When she had looked in the mirror, she had almost grunted. The scarce and troubled hours of sleep were all evident in the dark circles under her eyes, but it was nothing a little egg-white couldn't temper.

When she arrived at the banquet, Aemond was already there, standing in his usual soldierly stance, intent on talking to his mother. She approached them from the side, Aemond's blind side precisely, so that when she announced herself, he had to turn his shoulder to look at her. He cast a glance at her hair, ran his eye over her entire figure. She wasn’t expecting any kind of sappy words, and certainly not in front of his mother, nor did she desire them. She could feast on that look alone.

Queen Alicent excused herself to give order about the banquet, and they were left alone, while some musicians gathered in a corner of the hall.

“You said you would join me. I thought they abducted you.”

“More or less.”

“Ah. Yes, I'm sure it must have been so hard for you to listen to the lords snapping like little soldiers at your command.”

“It pains me to acknowledge how little you know me, when you think I'd rather talk war with those wimps who can't even hold a sword than fuck my wife till dawn.”

“That was your plan?”

“We have some unfinished business, don’t we? And don’t play dumb. You’re wearing green. You’re not as subtle as you think you are either.”

“Good. I’m sick of subtleties. So, are you going to ask me to dance?”

Aemond rolled his eye and gave her a stare that told her he’d preferred to walk barefoot on lava.

“Still not fond of dancing, eh?”

Prince Daeron suddenly appeared between them, with his cheerful manner and his head of silver curls, dressed in dark green just like his older brother. “Strange. You were the only one listening to the lessons when we were children.”

“Yes, because you and Aegon acted as court jesters the whole time.”

“I’ll have you know, brother, I have refined my dancing skills in Oldtown. So…may I dance with my good sister?”

Aemond gave him a simple nod, and Daeron bowed to her gallantly, raising his palm up.

She kindly accepted the invitation and placed her hand on his. “Don’t sulk too much.” She whispered to her husband before following his brother.

Aemond watched closely as they started to dance, stealing all the attention, and despite that little primitive tug at the sight of his woman dancing with another man, even though that was his brother and there was absolutely nothing malicious in his or her intentions, he was glad to see her like this, spinning and twisting around instead of lying still in the cold with dread eating her alive.

When the dance ended, Daeron escorted the Princess back to Aemond and took his leave. “Remind me again,” she asked as she watched the young Prince leave “How is it that your brother is still unmarried?”

Aemond sighed deeply and took her arm to escort her to the table. “I’d give you one week before you’d get bored of him.”

While they waited for dinner, the lords and ladies of the court were obviously very eager to hear Prince Daeron. Alicent in the first place, after so much despair, and after being separated from her youngest son for years, seemed to smile with her eyes every time she heard him speak.

“Hear, hear!” one of the lords cheered after listening to Prince Daeron’s retelling of the Battle of the Honeywine. “A brave soldier and a brave dragon rider! I propose a toast.”

At once, everybody stood up, raising their glasses. “To Prince Daeron, to House Targaryen!”

“And to House Hightower.” The Prince proudly stated, raising his glass towards his mother.

As they sat back, the Queen ordered the servants to serve the dinner. The table was gradually filled with a great variety of dishes, many of them Prince Daeron's favourites, specifically ordered by his mother to make him feel at home. It had been weeks and weeks since such a banquet had been seen at King's Landing. Prince Daeron seemed very pleased and grateful, as did all those present who watched the rich dishes crowd the table, and lastly, the huge tray of fresh fruit that a servant laid in the middle.

“I can’t quite believe my eyes. Blackberries? This far in the season?” said Lady Bracken.

“I’m afraid that is entirely my fault.” The Princess chirped, catching Aemond’s attention from across the table.

“I had a sudden craving, while I was carrying Aenar.”

“I had one too with my first.” Lady Redwyne joined in. “Plums, specifically.”

“Did you find them agreeable, Princess?”

“Oh, very much indeed.” She stated, casting an innocent glance around, but lingering for just a moment longer on her husband. “I devoured so many…I still feel the taste on my tongue.”

Devious woman, he thought, fighting back his cursed smirk. He had half a mind to excuse themselves and retire to their chambers, if he managed to endure it all the way and not take her in the middle of a hallway.

She seemed able to read his mind, judging by the way she was looking at him, unfurling a napkin on her lap. He knew her well enough to foresee when she was in a teasing spirit, and he was all in for it.

But then, just when they were about to start eating, her trusted maid came in, going straight to the Princess. “Apologies your Grace.” she said to her ear “but the Princeling is awake.”

Aemond saw the concern instantly widening her eyes and then a shadow passing over her face. “Yes…” she said, and stood up talking to all the present. “My apologies. I must retire.”

“See?” said Lady Bracken as Aemond watched his wife leave the hall. “This is why I refused to breastfeed. No matter how my second would scream…”

By the time she had done breastfeeding, her chest hurt so much that the maid had to place some rags soaked in cold water directly on her nipples; the instant relief had made the Princess close her eyes and almost moan. She had planned to go back to the banquet as soon as Aenar had had his fill but as she gained relief by pressing those wet rags to her breasts, she realised her son wouldn’t let her get away that easily.

As soon as the maid had taken him, trying to put him to sleep, he had begun to fuss and wriggle, whining in what she knew would soon turn into a high-pitched, deaf inducing crying.

Perhaps he’s cursed too. She had thought exhaustingly, promptly kissing his silver little head.

She gave up on her plan to go back to the banquet and rocked the baby herself, pacing before the windows while whispering sweet soothing words.

As soon as he had dozed off, she put him in his crib and absent-mindedly grabbed a book from Aemond's desk, lazily leafing through it while rocking the cradle with the other hand.

Aemond finds her like this when he opens the door on his way back from the banquet. She looks up from the page and sees him striding purposefully towards her, snatching the little book in her hands and throwing it on the bed.

She’s shocked, to say the least. One might say he treats books far better than his subjects.

“What—“ she tries to say but he takes her hand and pulls, forcing her to stand up and follow his steady gait.

“Aemond?” she asks down the corridor, a girlish grin climbing on her lips. “Where are you taking me?”

He doesn’t bother to answer but she doesn’t have to wait long to find out. They stop before a door down the corridor opposite to their chambers, Aemond pushes her inside without so much grace and shuts the door behind them. 

She looks around briefly; the room is warm, the fire in the hearth is lit, as the candles scattered all around. This is all familiar. “These are my old chambers…” she says with a little frown, turning to him.

“Quite the observer, wife.” He drawls, and takes a few steps. His stride is different now. Slow, contemplating, as his gaze raking over her, as if he in the first place doesn’t know why he brought her here and he’s assessing what to do. A war map, and he knows where all the faults lie.

“I thought we could spend some time together” he starts, walking past her to go sit near the fire “Alone.” he adds once he leisurely sits down, crossing his long legs and resting his hands on the armrests. “What better place than a vacant room? No one will come looking for us here.”

She tries as hard as she can to stop the little smirk at the corner of her lips; she walks closer, stopping right in front of him, staring down. “They might hear.” 

“Hmm. And that is much of a trouble for you, isn’t it?” he asks with the most fake genuine tone, taking a cup from the nearby table, and then “You sucked my cock on a terrace and begged me to fuck you in the Small Council…I thought I told you to quit your act.”

She smiles openly now, watching the wine pouring in the cup, his eye fixed on the liquid as his eyebrow shots up. “Besides, I know exactly what to do to muffle your noises.”

“You should be proud of my noises.”

“I am.” He says, taking a sip of wine, his eye piercing through her above the cup’s brim. “But for once, Aegon is right. I’m not one for sharing.”

His arm moves to put the wine aside but she takes it, only to feel his hand pulling the cup away from her. “You cannot drink.”

“Fine.” She concedes, leaning on him. “I’ll have it my way.”

She holds his face and with her left hand she glides her fingers on the left side of his face, delicately but with purpose, pushing the eyepatch off. And then she kisses him, eagerly, licking his lips and then breaching inside to taste the wine on his tongue, on the roof of his mouth.

She sighs deeply when he locks his tongue with hers, and feels his lips curling.

“Did you hear it?” He says breaking the kiss, breathing into her mouth. “That one is my favorite.”

“Your favorite what?” She asks mindlessly, chasing his lips but to no use, because he tilts his head back, his cursed smirk ghosting.

“Noise. It’s a little thing…” he tells her, locking one hand around her neck “in the back of your throat, close to a sigh but not quite…” his fingers trails against her throat, chasing her swallowing “It tells me you’re dying to.”

“To do what?”

“Fall on your knees for me. Be a supplicant.”

She grabs the back of his neck, driving his head close and looks down at his arched mouth “You cannot live without God, can you?” She looks up, her mouth open to breathe “Seven of them seem to have cursed me. I had to find my own.”

His eye widens at that. He looks straight into her eyes, so devoted, so raw. She’s right. The Gods would curse her some more if they saw she looks at him the way she should look at the Gods.

“Then do it.”

“What?”

“Flatteries don’t work on me, sweetling. You should know that.” With his hand on her neck, he slightly pushes her away, making some distance between them. “You will have to show me.”

“What would you have me do?”

His hands let go of her completely, resting on the armchair. The gemstone glints blue, and yet it’s nowhere near the bright cursed thing in his eye. “Get on your knees for me. Now.”

She should be ashamed of the pull in her bones, the muscles willing to move on their own accord and fall to the ground. But why, why does it have to be sin? Why can it not be religion?

When her knees hit the ground, she sees his chest rise, his long fingers spreading flat on the armchair. But her eyes fly back to his face as soon as he speaks, as soon as he commands. “Take off your dress.”

His eye sinks down, watching her hands work the corset, steadily. It’s the only sound in the room, this tugging, at the dress. But she tugs at his cock too. She tugs between her own legs.

When the dress is nothing but a pool of green on the ground, she goes to pull down her white chemise, but she suddenly stops. Aemond uncrosses his legs and the air hitches in her throat as his hands go straight to his belt, unbuckling it.

He revels in the little lump in her throat. Perhaps later he will let her have what she’s craving, but not so soon. “Give me your wrists.”

“My—”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

Swallowing, she keeps her eyes on him and raises her hands, like an offering. Aemond takes off his belt and leans forward, enough to take her hands and cross her wrists. She shudders at the sharp tug when he wraps the leather around, tying them tight.

“On your feet.”

And up she goes, testing her hands briefly but finding soon that she cannot move them, at all.

“Come.”

It takes one swift movement of his leg, bending the knee while the other rests loosely on the ground, for her to get the gist and walk closer, sitting on his knee, sideways.

“No. Like this.” Quite harshly, he grabs her hips and turns her so that she’s straddling his thigh. He can hear her little gasp when he pushes his thigh firmly against her core. He can feel her warmth through the fabric, stirring his cock. But he pays it no mind, for now.

“What now?” She asks, poised precariously on his thigh. 

Aemond tilts his head, and he just looks at her. In the spur of a moment, a boyish one that doesn’t sit well with how he’s built, he thinks he might be quite contented by merely looking at her. Because she’s beautiful and mine, mine, mine.

But his hands are burning, they might fray and wither if he doesn’t touch her. He unties her hair, running his fingers through them as they fall around her shoulders. The Maiden. The Mother. And yet something better, something worse. Because her eyes are hungry, her mouth is starving for air, for his flesh.

“You must toil to find God.” He says, and then he grins. A savage thing, full of promise. “Bring yourself to come.”

A flash of thrill lights up her face, darkens her eyes and Aemond tilts his head again, biding all the time in the world, for he knows she will.

Tentatively, she pushes her body down, against his thigh, feeling a timid shot of pleasure traveling up from her core, ending in a short, labored breath.

That noise, that might be his second favorite.

Soon, her hips start to move back and forth, each time trying to push herself down as hard as she can, making little breathless cries each time she fails to give herself the friction she needs. She has little balance due to her tied wrists, so she rests her palms on his chest to gain some leverage. And that seems to do the trick.

She tilts her head back, moving faster, doing little jumps on his thigh, panting harshly as sweat lumps on her forehead and pleasure coils in her belly.

Aemond hikes up her chemise, watches her cunt brushing back and forth against his leg, leaving a trail of wetness on the fabric of his breeches. He has to choke down a growl. “Gods, you’re soaking me…”

She looks down at him, her cheeks pink, her lips open in a little o. He can’t help himself. He sticks two fingers inside and how relishing it is that she waits for no invitation or order. She laps, twirls her tongue around his fingertips, sucks them.

“Look at you…” he croons, taking his fingers out, leaving a trail of saliva down her chin. “But you can’t, can you? Perhaps I should fuck you before a mirror, so you see. You see how pretty you are when you’re desperate for me.”

His hand travels down her neck, tossing her hair back and then grasping the strap of her chemise, pulling it down, revealing her swollen, turgid breast. He leans forward immediately, cupping it in his hand, and takes the nipple into his mouth, crooning contentedly and then some more when he feels her wince and cry out loud.

Her tied wrists writhe in their merciless hold and he stops her, gripping both her hands with one of his own, keeping her still, lapping and sucking at her nipple until he feels something wet and saccharine on his tongue, humming all the better. He grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, and she cries out again, bucking violently against him, turning sloppy and frenzy as she feels the fall close.

He feels it too, feels her thighs trembling around him, and that’s when he takes her hips in a tight hold and forces her to stop altogether.

“Did you think I would make it so easy?” he asks spitefully, seeing her dazed expression. Wasting no time, he holds her firmly close to him and stands up. It takes him only two of his long steps to reach the bed and place her above. In a moment of illusive freedom, her tied wrists fly to his breeches, to his evident hardness, but he’s quick to stop her, bringing her arms above her head, keeping them there with a firm hold. “Stay still.”

“Aemond—“ she pleads.

“Hush. Spread your legs.”

She obliges, eager for him to do something, anything to stop the aching. Aemond wets his fingers on his tongue and brings them down, breaching inside her with two of them, watching her gasp, arch her back and twist her wrists in his hold, uselessly. “Easy…” he cruelly laughs “I have just started.”

But she hasn’t. She’s a few steps away from the precipice of her previous denied peak, it would take him so little to push her over the edge. Instead, his torture is so slow that the whole coiling in her belly falls apart and she must climb her peak again.

His two fingers slip in and out ever so easily, their wet sounds echoing through the room, mixed with her panted breaths and his own. He aches for her to touch him, he aches so much that his cock is pulsing, painfully, but this is just too thrilling. Now he knows exactly how she felt in Harrenhal, when she had him chained up to a chaise.

Her hips rock frantically against his hand, trying to speed him, to get there faster. Mumbling nonsense, her legs tense like iron, her cunt clenches and sucks his fingers in like a vice. “Yes…yes, please…Aemond…please don’t stop—‘m so close…”

And just like that, he slips his fingers out; a dark pleasure dances on his candle-lit features as she writhes and whines for the loss of his fingers, swinging her lower back and forth, desperate for the barest friction that would end her misery.

“Aemond, please…” she says, and even with only one eye, he can’t mistake the tears of frustration at the corners of her eyes.

“What, my love?”

“Plea—” she’s cut off by his hand, pushing his sticky fingers inside to make her clean up her mess.

“We said enough with subtleties, did we not? Speak. Tell me…what you need me to do?”

“Let me come please…please…”

At that, he finally lets her wrists go, and she almost winces in pain, for the time she had them tensed above her head. He stalls for a moment, unsure, running his eye over her whole body, sweating and feverish, and so beautifully plump because of motherhood. He unbuttons his doublet, and then his shirt, his breeches. He bares himself completely, catching her eyes following his deft hands everywhere, breathing heavily.

He kneels between her legs, spreading them. And it’s embarrassing, really, the way she tumbles as soon as he puts his tongue flat against her drenched folds. If only she cared.

It takes only a couple of twirls of his tongue around her lips, and she comes undone, shaking all over, canting her slit against his face. He helps her ride out her climax, by not stopping at all. Instead, he doubles his efforts like a man possessed, pushing his mouth open against her cunt as if he wished to devour it, sucking harshly until she whimpers hard, choking on a loud sob. “Aemond—wait—I can’t—”

She cannot take more so soon. But he’s utterly deaf to her complaints.

He feasts on her, lapping and dipping his tongue in, parting her folds to go as deep as he can, humming while drinking all of her; his voice reverberates through her flesh, it makes her bones rattle.

His long nose rubs against her bud and he looks up: she trashes about the sheets, cutting herself as the belt leather scratches her skin. She tries to push him away with her tied wrists, to no use. She clamps her legs around his head, in a desperate attempt to chase him away, sobbing for the unbearable stimulation. And yet…and yet her hips move on their own whim, bucking with sharp jolts until the wave starts to rise, higher and higher, and she drowns in it, letting go a high-pitched cry, clutching his scalp with both her tied hands, scraping, pushing him against her as she rides her peak against his face.  

He swallows everything, licking her clean, moaning softly at feeling her pulsing on his tongue.

“Enough…I—Aemond you have to stop…” she rasps breathlessly.  

“Why?” he asks, finally rising from where he had perched himself; he climbs on her, until he speaks to her face. “I am only making up to you. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

She can smell herself on him, she can see herself, glistening on his mouth, chin, even his cheekbones.

“Answer me.” His hand grips her jaw “You said you wanted everything.”

She chokes down a whimper when he leans completely on her, feeling his cock against her cooling flesh, while he’s hot and hard and heavy.

“I will give you more.” He says, brushing a strand of her sweat-soaked hair from her temple. “I will give you another child. Keep you all aching and wet for me while you swell with my child. Do you think I don’t know? How you ached for me? D’you think I didn’t?” he presses himself down, so she can feel it thoroughly, furrowing her brow as her body already answers to his call.

 “I can feel you in our bed…” he keeps rasping “rubbing your legs together. And you know how much that bothers me. Your pleasure is mine to take…and to give.”

Her lips part, gasping roughly. She was so hung on his lips that she hadn’t even registered that he had taken hold of himself, bending her knee on his left hip, and guided himself in.

She arches against him while he slowly sheathes himself all the way in, moaning with long-awaited relief. He stays still for a moment, adjusting, but also because he takes her wrists and sets her hands free.

Thrilling as it was, he wants her hands on him, he craves her touch.

He wants her to cling to his shoulders as she always does, digging her nails down.

He wants her to clamp her fingers on the back of his neck, scraping and pulling his hair to keep him close enough to moan into his mouth.

He wants her hands on his back, sliding down, to push him even deeper while rutting inside her.

And she does all of that. She finds God.

[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

[kookslastbutton]

what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Rough Relationship Timeline with Zayne based on his Memories

This is just my observation. Not All Memories are included. May Contain Spoilers for those who just started the game. I maybe wrong in some parts as nothing on this blog is confirmed by Infold PTE LTD.

Pre - Relationship Stage

Sweet Conspiracy

The awkwardness is a bit heavy here. They still do not know how to talk to each other and M/C learning about Zayne having a sweet tooth.

She doesn't know how to return his jacket but does not want to leave it at the hospital's reception. Probably a good choice. Who knows? Some nurse might just stole that jacket away. ;)

M/C knows he is in a medical conference but doesn't know when he'll be back. So they are not communicating well yet. Maybe just a few convo here and there when she's in for check up.

But my favorite part is when M/C indirectly say that she wants to see Zayne outside of the hospital by saying "You'll call me so I can get my candies back when I'm free.. And we'll see each other again"

This memory clearly shows who M/C is really interested to. She wants to see him again and even if it's awkward with him when they just saw each other again, she is clearly interested.

Glittering Lights

Zayne's paying attention to M/C's emotion and monitoring her in Social media. This thought alone clearly shows that Zayne is already particularly keeping an eye on her since they met again in the hospital.

They are also not fully acquitted yet which is why M/C is quite unsure to start conversations with him. But it shows how Zayne is trying to learn little things about her. He is not yet familiar with what she likes hence him asking her americano or latte.

They have a connection. When they are trying to find each other when they got separated during Zayne's sudden phone call, even M/C felt it. It's like they both felt that they are looking for each other and their eyes met.

And the most obvious clue that they are not yet an item, is that awkward goodbye wave. But it's cute because they are expecting more.

Gentle Twilight

This was the first time Zayne ask M/C to go with him as a mutual support agreement in doing things to make them relax. Why I think so? They never expect to see each other in the library and when he thinks M/C is going to refuse hiking with him, he grabs a book about medicine to ensure that she will come with him.

They still not keeping tabs on each other directly.

M/C calling Zayne as "Dr. Zayne" seems professional rather than teasing.

Please remember hiking and pottery lessons.

Neon Nights

She refers to Zayne as a friend and they just keep bumping to each other.

Zayne is clearly jealous that M/C buying a gift for someone. He's actually quite bitter.. hehehehe

Isn't it amazing that even they disagree and not in a relationship at this time, they are perfectly in sync and fight wonderfully together. Which is why they are great together.

Delicacy

Well M/C thinking Zayne needs to correct his classmates when they said she is his girlfriend.

They are already more acquitted in this as they already agreed on meeting up and they are learning new and more things about each other.

M/C is also picking up Zayne's habits and likes as she know he likes the food there.

Zayne is comfortable in introducing her already.

Zayne's also indirectly confess to her here. (I want to strangle Astra if you know what I mean!)

In a Relationship Stage

Tranquil Heart

This may not be a solid proof, but I think they started their relationship right after this memory.

Although it came out as a friendly banter between them, Zayne is clearly upset that he was not taking care of herself more. Not to mention being caught sneaking out at the hospital at the dead of the night.

But this is where the last line of the memory played out for the start of their relationship. Zayne again indirectly confess to her by saying "That he can't ignore you even if he wants to."

This line is so strong in so many levels. 1, it can imply on Foreseer seeing M/C again. He has a choice to either move on from her but he chose to stay and dedicate his life for her.

2 if he made a promise to her as a kid, it is forgivable if he forgot to help her with her sickness. But from then on he just simply existed for her. I still got chills thinking of what have Zayne must have felt when he first hug and kiss M/C.

Tranquil Moment

I think this is their early relationship stage because M/C is more familiar with Zayne's schedule now and she is seeing him to have dinner dates.

They are planning a dates and doing small things like making snow man and watching the snow. This simple things are one of the sweetest things as they mark the beginning of their relationship.

Drunken Intimacy/ Exclusive Tutorial

He is bringing her to events and showing her to classmates and colleagues. He is definitely showing her off and proud of her being a hunter.

He is being territorial. He warns M/C not to visit other doctors and keep close to her when someone wants to talk to her.

Spring Remnants

They are doing charity events together.

Notice how Zayne takes the box from M/C? This is not just him being gentleman because the next thing he say is "Allow me" referring to taking the box from her and the "Go register first" meaning M/C and Zayne are close enough for M/C knowing his details.

Zayne holding her hands.

At the end, Zayne says "Let's enjoy Spring together from now on" indicating they indeed start dating and Zayne wanting for them celebrate spring as a couple moving forward.

Starry Nocturne

I usually refrain from talking about this memory. Not only of it's heavy emotional content, but I can clearly feel the exhaustion and fear from Zayne.

If observe closely, you can see how they understand each other without a word. Zayne just looks at M/C and she already understood. The gesture is so intimate yet so wholesome.

They way they understood each other and the way she comforts him. M/C might have know that the exhaustion and fear comes with the thought of her in his mind.

Its given that they are already together but Zayne is still in a race against time. He might be busy with patients but all this effort as we know is to find a permanent cure for M/C. He works tirelessly for her. To not lose her again. And this brings me to one of the things that may be difficult to swallow for everyone.

While Xavier and Rafayel are still tied to their memory of M/C in their previous lifetime, Zayne is the only one leaving the past behind, embracing the present, and was fighting for a future with M/C. Words are not enough to express how deep and far his love could go and this is exactly why I love Zayne so much.

The Next Level Stage

Ramblings Come True

AGAIN, Although I cannot say this is a solid evidence, but when Zayne says "I was... referring to something you wouldn't regret" It was like he is asking for her if she is ready to take their relationship to the next stage and she agree by saying when she gets better. (M/C have a cold)

Fleeting Sweetness/Cozy Afternoon

M/C was able to enter Zayne's home while he was sleeping. Meaning she already have the keys to his home solidifying the fact that they are indeed in a relationship. I know mostly Japanese are more symbolic at this its like giving someone more

They are sleeping on the same bed on his house or at her place. M/C buying him him a pajama set.

They instinctively and freely touching each other. Be it holding hands or hugging.

Lingering Warmth/End of Depth/Heartstring Symphony/Business Trip/Snowy Serenity/Hidden Motive.

Do I actually need to explain this? hehehehe It's really obvious so I'll leave it there.

Final Thoughts

Zayne and M/C have a steady and strong bond when it comes to relationship. They might have tiptoed around it by not saying a direct "I Love You", but they live and breath for each other.

Isn't cute that they find a way to saying their true feelings by saying "The Moon is Beautiful"?

Thank you Infold for bring Zayne to us. If may just a game for other, but Zayne is my comfort zone. Having him is like having something that will be forever consistent in my life.

[fangisms]

Hi would u be able to do a Theo not x fem reader where they are enemies and the reader is a cat animagus and he finds us somewhere in our cat form and takes us with him and is like cuddling the cat and everyone knows it’s us and finds it funny

cat and mouse

A/N: thinking about this DEEPLY giggling and kicking my feet WITH DETERMINATION. (gif creds: @thickdickgrayson)

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Animagus!Reader

Summary: Theo finds a stray cat in the library. Turns out that stray cat is his sworn enemy.

Warnings: fluff, enemies to lovers, cat animagus, cursing, banter, pet names (kitten, micina, kittycat)

Meow?

Theo whips his head around at the noise. And there he sees a cat sat poised and proper at the center of the potions aisle of the library. Why is there a cat sat at the center of the potions aisle of the library. The cat tilts its head.

“Shh... We’re in a library,” he huffs, flipping through the first few pages of a book with a deep blue cover. He turns on his heel and heads for the small desk pushed up against the wall. The cat slinks after him, leaping from the floor to the chair to the desk.

“Pest,” Theo says. “You know, if you’re choosing to sit there, you’ll have to share with my books.”

The cat sits.

“Have it your way.”

Theo tries not to pay any more mind to the stray as he studies the reactivity of unicorn blood. Luckily, the cat doesn’t move much so it’s not very hard for him to stay focused. It only sinks into itself as it settles, lying on the table. He rolls his eyes and gives in to the cat’s wicked tactics, drawing the tips of his fingers between the little thing’s ears. It begins to purr.

“You’re not so bad. In fact, I’ve had much worse study partners. I’d take you over Matty any day.”

Deciding the cat has foiled his every attempt at retaining information, Theo packs up, reshelves the book, and heads for the library doors.

Meow.

“No, little pest, I can’t take you with me. I’ve already got enough vermin to take care of.”

But her big, dumb eyes twinkle up at him and suddenly he can’t refuse.

“Oh, whatever,” as he holds the door open for her to happily trot through.

She follows him coyly into the great hall, hopping up into the space he usually occupies at mealtime. He stares incredulously at the cat who responds with a jeer: meow. So that’s how it’s going to be. Give an inch and these damn things take a mile.

Pansy leans into Mattheo’s side, whispering, “Isn’t that—?”

“Yes, dear Pansy. Yes, it is,” he chuckles while bringing his cup to his lips. Theo grumbles, trying his best to shoo his new pet out of his spot before finally, begrudgingly, opting to share. What he doesn’t expect is when she curls into his lap after he sits beside her.

He sighs then, scratching its back and fixing himself a plate. He’s a little puzzled as to why the seat directly across from him is vacant, though. That’s usually where you taunt him from every meal. But lately, you’ve been absent.

“Have either of you seen—”

“Nope!” Pansy chuffs through a grin, “not since the last time you asked. Anyway, aren’t you two sworn to be mortal enemies or something?”

Mattheo clears his throat, eyes flicking from the cat in Theo’s lap to its adoring new owner. “Pansy’s right, Theo. You mention her an awful lot for someone who claims to hate her with the fire of a million suns,” he teases, suddenly turning his attention and cocking a brow, “Ohhh, I get it; you love her.”

“No,” Theo huffs petulantly, “She’s my potions partner, and I seem to be doing all the work on our group project.”

“Oh,” Matty rolls his eyes, “your potions partner. Right.”

“Shut up.”

Theo spends the rest of the night up in the dormitories. His cat friend had refused to climb the stairs, and Theo found the kindness in his heart to carry her up the stairs. He has to admit he melted a little when she started purring against his chest halfway to the door.

She finds herself a comfortable spot on his bed, settling contentedly in a ball beside his books and papers.

“Some study partner you are,” he says. He can’t help but amuse her, occasionally taking study breaks to scratch her chin and wonder how long she’d stick around for.

Except, in the morning, he’s a little confused to find a human girl in his bed. In fact, she’s the one human girl he’s known to dislike more than any other. What kind of cruel trick is this. Had Matty really put all that effort into sneaking his enemy into his bed. Matty doesn’t even show up for class half the time.

You stir and stretch your arms above your head, eyes flicking open to an unfamiliar setting. This surely isn’t the girl’s dormitory. So where are you.

“You?” a voice accuses from just above you. Theo sits up, and you startle, teetering off the edge of the bed with a thud.

“Fuck,” you huff, scrambling to your feet and straightening your robes with a frightened look on your face. “Right. I’ll see you… around!”

You’re out the door before he can call after you. Would he even call after you? You’re not sure, but you’re also not going to stick around and find out.

Theo’s heart races in his chest. He’s about to call after you, but he’s too flustered to get the words out so he hurls himself backward on the bed with a sigh.

…

A week trudges by without a sign of you. Honestly, he’s more worried you haven’t been attending meals. And he no longer sees you on weekend group outings. He almost misses your targetted quips. And your laugh. Even if it was at him.

He knows you’re alive, though. A packet had slipped underneath the door as he was getting ready for bed one night. The worksheet had both your names on it; it detailed the instructions to the potions assignment. In your handwriting. But it was worthless without you here to help him in person. He thinks himself crazy, catching glimpses of cat tails around corners or paws pouncing between tree branches.

But he thinks, he can’t be crazy staring at the cat perched still beneath one of the benches in the quad. So he sits and bends down to nudge your cat cheek with the pad of his finger.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he hums. Your eyes blink open, staring at him blankly before pacing out from under the bench and hopping up next to him with a determined stretch. He doesn’t believe his eyes when the docile cat he’s been hunting for the last week transforms into you.

You shrug, not daring to look in his eyes for fear of admitting defeat. “You found me.”

“I’ve missed you, micina,” he teases. Though, maybe there’s a grain of truth in his taunt. But you only roll your eyes.

“Don’t be weird, Nott.”

He scoffs. “Okay, you don’t like me, but you laid on my lap, cuddle with me, spent hours just hanging around me… It’s very confusing.”

“Yeah. So?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Yeah. So… why?”

You sigh, “just because I think you’re obnoxious doesn’t mean… I don’t like you—”

“Oh, no?”

“Shh, I’m trying to explain!” But it’s hard when you’re both on the verge of laughing at your shared hypocrisy. “We’re… I mean I didn’t think you liked me either! What’s your excuse?”

“You’re changing the subject, kittycat.”

You groan, now turning to face him with all the determination of a militia.

“We’re meant to be rivals, you know. We’re the same blood status, the same house, we have the same damned friend group, and no matter how hard I try, you still manage to get slightly higher marks than me!”

“I know,” he teases.

“So… I wanted to see what you were doing differently.”

“So you slept in my bed?”

“I had a change of plans!” you squeak, shrugging when he chuckles under his breath.

“Which was?”

“Well…” You shake your head, realzing it sounds a little silly under his scrutiny like this. “Maybe if I distracted you, you’d do poorly on your OWLs.”

He snickers.

“But we got the same score so…” you groan, “we cuddled for nothing.” He sets his hand gently on your knee, and for once, you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or not.

“Nothing? Really?”

He leans in closer, and now you’re sure he’s trying to distract you. You press your hand to his chest and he watches your eyes widen with amusement.

“No! No, it’s your turn. I’d like you to hear your reason since you’ve already proven yourself to be better than me and any reason you give is going to be a load of bull—”

“You talk too much.” He says it with a smug expression, looking down on you while leaning back into his palms.

“That’s not”—you squint at him, just knowing he’s taking the piss—“I barely talk to you at all. In fact, I only do so when I’m forced!”

“No, you misunderstand me,” he hums, expression softening as his voice lowers, suddenly becoming a much more private conversation, “You talk too much to everyone but me.”

Your jaw goes slack, and he smiles a little, knowing the way both of your hearts race when you look in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he teases, nudging your arm and shifting closer, “Come on, micina mia, you didn’t really think I hated you. It’s all talk. I mean, you can be annoyingly pretty at times, and I hate it when you ignore me, but I could never hate you. Not now that I know your little secret… kitten.”

He’s surprised when you laugh, grabbing his arm to steady yourself.

“Theo, I think everyone knows my little secret but you,” you say, grinning at him in pure delight at his disbelief.

“You’re joking!”

“No!”

“Those bastards,” he huffs, thinking of Matty and Pansy whispering and giggling in the great hall. You stand and brush off your robe, and he follows hurriedly, hovering next to you.

“More cuddling?” he teases, and you turn to him with a smile.

“Got a thing for cats, Nott?”

“No, no,”—He matches your grin and leans in to gently peck your cheek—“Just a thing for you.”

masterlist

[misswynters]

Aemond Targaryen as your husband: headcanon

[a/n: there are some sensual undertones here so if you don’t wanna read that you can skip it. it’s after the seperator

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

similar | jace | aegon | cregan | daeron | gwayne

Aemond is fiercely protective of you. His intense loyalty means he is always by your side, ensuring your safety and well-being. He often places himself between you and any perceived threat, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.

Aemond isn’t one for grand romantic gestures, but his love for you is evident in the small things. He brushes your hair out of your face, ensures your chambers are always warm, and leaves books he thinks you’d enjoy on your bedside table.

As your husband, Aemond values your opinion on matters of state and politics. He seeks your counsel in private, trusting your judgment and treating you as an equal partner in all decisions.

Aemond admires your intelligence and enjoys engaging in deep conversations with you. Whether it’s discussing the histories of Westeros, strategy, or philosophy, he relishes the intellectual stimulation you provide.

Aemond respects your strength and encourages you to train with him. He enjoys sparring sessions where you both hone your skills, often leading to playful banter and mutual admiration.

You and Aemond have an unspoken bond, sharing secrets that no one else knows. He trusts you implicitly and confides in you about his deepest fears and ambitions.

Despite his stern exterior, Aemond has a soft spot for you. In private, he’s tender and gentle, often holding you close and whispering sweet nothings that contrast sharply with his public demeanor.

Aemond enjoys gifting you rare and precious items, from intricate jewelry to exotic silks. He takes pride in finding unique treasures that reflect your tastes and interests.

One of your favorite pastimes is riding Vhagar together. The thrill of soaring through the skies, feeling the wind in your hair, and the shared experience of dragon riding brings you closer. Aemond often points out landmarks and recounts stories from his childhood as you fly.

Aemond’s loyalty to you is unwavering. He defends your honor fiercely and would go to great lengths to protect you from harm. His love is intense and all-consuming, leaving no room for doubt.

Through your relationship, Aemond learns to open up more emotionally. Your patience and understanding help him grow, allowing him to express his feelings more freely and strengthening your bond.

Aemond is your biggest supporter. Whether you’re pursuing a personal project or navigating court politics, he’s always there to offer encouragement and practical advice.

Aemond is devoted to your future children. He takes an active role in their upbringing, ensuring they are well-educated and trained. He often tells them stories of his own adventures and the legacy of House Targaryen.

Despite the challenges you face, your bond with Aemond is unbreakable. Together, you are a formidable team, facing the world with strength and determination. Your love for each other is a constant source of comfort and inspiration, guiding you through the trials of life in Westeros.

Aemond’s eye always finds you in a room full of people. The way he looks at you, with a mix of desire and admiration, sends shivers down your spine. His gaze alone can make you feel cherished and wanted.

In private, Aemond’s touches are gentle and deliberate. He traces his fingers along your skin, memorizing every curve and line. Whether it’s a light touch on your hand or a caress along your back, he makes you feel treasured.

Aemond’s kisses are a mix of urgency and tenderness. He captures your lips with an intensity that leaves you breathless, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Late at night, when the castle is quiet, Aemond whispers sweet and sultry words in your ear. He tells you of his desires, his dreams, and how deeply he loves you. His voice, low and husky, wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Aemond takes his time when you’re having sex. He believes in savoring every moment, exploring your body with a careful and practiced touch. His focus is entirely on your pleasure, ensuring you feel loved and satisfied.

There’s a powerful, unspoken connection between you. A single look from Aemond can communicate a thousand words. In moments of intimacy, you don’t need to speak; your bodies and souls understand each other perfectly.

After a long day, Aemond loves to hold you close. He wraps his arms around you, his body shielding yours. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart are the ultimate comfort, making you feel safe and adored. Giving you the love that his mother didn’t give him.

Aemond is particularly affectionate in the mornings. He wakes you with soft kisses on your neck and shoulders, his hands gently exploring your body as he whispers good morning. These moments set a loving tone for the day ahead.

Aemond enjoys sharing baths with you. The intimacy of washing each other, feeling the warm water and his hands on your skin, creates a deep bond. He loves to see you relaxed and content, and he takes his time, making sure every touch is soothing and sensual.

Despite his duties, Aemond finds time for secret sex. Whether it’s a secluded garden or a hidden room in the castle, he ensures you have moments of privacy to express your love and passion freely.

banner by: @cafekitsune

[traveler-at-heart]

Hot To Go

Summary: You're horny and Natasha's teasing you. That's pretty much it!

Also, I've been telling you all to listen to Chappell Roan since last year so if you haven't, DO IT NOW.

Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Hopeless.

That’s how you feel as you walk back to the Compound, hot and bothered. The plan is to go straight to your room, but Wanda’s in the living room reading her book.

“Did you have fu…?” she says as soon as you walk in.

“Nope” you don’t let her finish, plopping next to her on the couch.

“What…”

“Garden gnomes”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific”

“We were having dinner, she invited me over for coffee. And when I went inside her apartment, I was met with at least fifty figures of garden gnomes”

“Like… decoration?”

“Like pets, according to her” you rub your eyes, trying to erase the image from your mind. “I was willing to maybe ignore it… until I went to her room and there were a dozen more”

“So? Just turn off the light” Wanda says, with a neutral expression. As if she’s not hearing the weirdest fucking thing on the planet right now.

“No, she said we should leave it on because they’re scared of the dark”

That finally breaks her and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Not funny” you throw a cushion towards her and she catches it.

It’s been four months since you’ve gotten laid. Not like you can’t handle a dry spell, but for some reason -perhaps the stress of work and missions- you’ve been particularly… needy. But everytime you go on a date, it ends in disaster.

“I should join a convent” you groan, your head resting on the back of the couch as you look at the ceiling.

“Nice, surrounded by other women. Maybe then you’ll get lucky”

“Not funny” you repeat, defeated.

“What about…?”

“Don’t” you stop her before she can even begin. You don’t need to look at Wanda to know what she’s about to say.

“I’m just saying…”

“Not another…”

“Natasha”

“…word. Damn it, Wanda. That has never been an option”

“You’re being stupid” she says and you roll your eyes, getting up from the couch.

“Gotta go and take matters into my own hands”

“Gross”

Wanda makes a face and you laugh, the both of you too distracted to notice someone else on the doorway, listening intently to the conversation.

—

Movie night is the perfect distraction, or so you think.

Since you’re all fidgety and restless, you opt for the couch in the back of the room, holding a bucket of popcorn against your chest.

The boys have settled on Atomic Blonde, with Bucky commenting the inaccuracies of the film portraying the Cold War.

His banter with Sam is enough to distract you for a little while, but then you turn back to the screen and sink in your seat.

There are two women making out, a hand going down the other one’s panties…

“Enjoying the movie?” a sultry voice whispers against your ear.

“N-Nat” you hold the bucket closer against your chest, trying to even your breathing. Where did she come from? You were sure she was skipping movie night today.

“That’s my name” she says, somehow even closer to you. Your eyes are fixed on the screen, but every other sense is registering the redhead’s presence. Her smell, the way her lips are almost touching your ear…

There’s moaning, and panting and the women on screen are kissing.

You’re about to combust, there’s no doubt in your mind.

“Use your words, pretty girl” Natasha whispers and you whimper.

“It’s a good… great movie” you manage to say, gulping.

Natasha’s hand moves forward and you’re hipnotized by those slender fingers, grabbing some popcorn out of the bucket and placing it slowly in her mouth.

“Catch you later?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, feeling the heat rising to your ears.

As soon as she walks out the living room, you stand up, sprinting to your bedroom.

“Pizza just got here” Tony calls after you.

“I’m not hungry” you lie, shutting the door behind you.

Not for food, at least.

—

It’s been two days since movie night and Natasha’s the same. So you figure your horny mind blew the interaction out of proportion.

Which is fine, because right now you can’t be distracted.

“On your knees” Natasha commands and you almost faint.

“I… what?”

As part of your quarterly evaluation, you have to take physical and psychological tests to stay on the team.

The sparring part was usually done by Steve, so you were shocked to find Natasha as soon as you walked in.

“Say you’re wounded and can’t stand up. How are you going to fight back?” Natasha walks in circles around you, and you kneel as she requested. “Ready?”

You don’t have time to answer and in a matter of seconds she’s disarmed you, her hand squeezing your troath and her body on top of yours.

It takes everything in your power not to moan.

Natasha releases you and goes at it again, and again, and again. The fighting stances change, but ultimately, you always end up against the mat, her body close to yours, feeling her hot breath against your skin.

“Tired?” she says, straddling your hips. You don’t trust in your voice, so all you do is nod.  “Fine, we’re done”

Natasha lifts herself from you, but you miss the contact immediately.

“Want some help getting up?” she offers when you stay on the ground.

“I just need a minute”

Your muscles are sore, your heart is beating out of your chest and the redness that invades your cheeks and ears won’t disappear.

You’re fucked. And not in the way you’d like to be.

—

Nothing un-sexier than chores.

As you walk down the hallway, you knock on the doors of some of your teammates, asking if they have dirty clothes to add to your load.

The last door is Natasha’s and you pray she’s not in her room.

“Hi, detka” she smiles as soon as she sees you.

“Dirty…” you stutter like a moron.

“What’s that?”

“Dirty clothes. I’m doing laundry but it’s not a lot. I could put some of your clothes if you need it”

“Thank you. Give me a second” Natasha takes your basket inside and comes back a second later. “Oh, I almost forgot this one” she says when you turn to leave.

“Sure, go ahead…”

The last thing you’re expecting is to see her undressing in the doorway, throwing her SHIELD t-shirt and yoga pants your way.

Natasha is standing in black underwear, staring back at you with a smirk.

“I’ll… I better go” you turn around, colliding against the door. You curse under your breath, aware that Natasha hasn’t closed the door, most likely to see if you turn around one last time.

Using other chores to distract you does the trick for a little while, but then you go back and pull the clothes out of the dryer.

Without thinking, you begin to fold them. That is, until your hands lift a lace thong that is most definitely not yours.

“Oh, great heavens” you drop it, feeling like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. People wear lingerie, it’s a normal, beautiful, hot thing to do…

But if you find more like that one, you’re gonna combust. instead, you separate your clothes from hers without paying much attention to what’s in your hands. Once it’s done, you go back and knock on her door.

Thankfully, this time she’s wearing a hoodie and leggings.

“Here” you present the basket with clothes, avoiding her eyes. Natasha thanks you and you sigh with relief, walking back to your room.

“Oh, did you happen to see a red lacy bra?”

Damn it.

“Uh… I didn’t like check each thing you put in there, Nat”

“Red, unclasps on the front, has lace that only covers the nipples”

You actually have to lean against the wall, sure that your knees will buckle any minute now.

“Nope. I would remember”

“Alright then” and as if she hadn’t just melted your brain, she smiles and speaks in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. “Thank you”

Thank you. That image is forever imprinted in my brain.

—

How did you end up here?

Milk was all you wanted. When you mentioned you were going to the store, Natasha was quick to offer a ride.

If you had know it was on her motorcycle, you’d have politely declined.

Because, now you have your hands around her midsection, and everytime Natasha lowers her hands at a stop sign, she brushes your thighs delicately.

On the way back, there’s a particularly nasty bump on the road which makes you jump on your seat. As a result, your face sinks in Natasha’s kneck. Not for the first time, you notice the lavender smell and softness of her beautiful red hair. Comforted by her closeness, you practically melt against her. To your horror, a soft moan escapes your lips.

How you wish she hadn’t heard it, but by the way her movements falter, it’s clear she did.

Mortified, you jump the minute she parks, thanking her and disappearing in the elevator.

“Shitshitshit” you mutter, running across the living room, still carrying the bottle of milk. Wanda leans forward, intrigued by the force with which you lock your door. It all makes sense when Natasha comes in, looking for you.

“Again?” the Sokovian says, throwing a pillow towards Natasha.

“What?”

“You’ve been teasing her for weeks. It’s not funny” Wanda glares, making Natasha uncomfortable. If anyone can throw her across the room, it’s Wanda.

“Well, maybe now I will be considered an option” Natasha tries to defend herself, though it comes off as a lame excuse.

Wanda takes a second, trying to understand the meaning behind those words.

Your conversation about that date and the gnomes and Natasha… she was listening.

“That’s what this is about?!” Wanda grabs another cushion and throws it at the redhead, making sure that it hits extra hard with a whisp of red magic. “She didn’t mean you’re not an option. You are her first choice. Because. She. Has. A. Crush. On. You”

Each word is accentuated with a new wave of magic that is harmless, but enough to make Natasha jump.

“Oh” is all she says when Wanda stops.

“Fix it. Every time you tease her those thoughts get very loud, and it’s hard to ignore them”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what she’s thinking” Natasha tries to hide her smirk.

“Who say her thoughts were the loud ones, Romanoff?”

—

As luck would have it, you couldn’t hide from Natasha much longer.

Duty called and you were placed on a mission together. You had to infiltrate the VIP room of a bar/strip club the Russian mafia owned.

The setup was fairly simple. Natasha would go inside the VIP room while you stayed outside to alert her of anything unusual. So, at least you wouldn’t have to be around each other for long. It was hard to keep sinful thought at bay when she was dressed to the nines, hoping to dash the bouncer and get access to the reserved area.

You look around the street where the main entrance is, hoping Ivanov wouldn’t get here  before Natasha was granted access.

“I couldn’t get past the bouncer” her voice interrupted your thoughts.

“What do we do now?”

“Maybe there’s a way to break into the room…”

“Apparently the only women allowed in the VIP area are dancers. Pigs” she mutters bitterly.

“I might have an idea” you say, following a girl in high heels that enters through a staff door. You sneak up right behind her and walk down a hallway. At the end of it, you find a room full of makeup, mirrors and girls in skimpy outfits.

Oh, God.

“Y/N?” Natasha presses through the comms.

“Looks like I’m a dancer now” 

“Absolutely not. Where are you? I’m calling this mission off now” 

“Come on, Nat. I’ll just pick an outfit, and hope they’ll let me in” 

As you go around some clothes that you hope are clean, Natasha remains quiet. The least revealing outfit is a black leather mini skirt and a heart shaped top.

You are busy inspecting your reflection on the mirror when she breaks the silence.

“I don’t like this”

You don’t like it either, truth be told.

“I’m walking towards the bar. What’s your location?” there is no answer and for a moment you worry Natasha was caught. “Nat?” you insist, speaking louder as the music makes it hard to listen.

“I see you” is all she says. You look around, until your eyes meet hers. Natasha’s intense glare makes you falter, feeling as if you are naked in the middle of a room full of strangers.

“You look…”

“He’s here” you interrupt, looking behind her. “Ivanov”

The mobster leans on the railway that’s above Natasha and you, inspecting with a satisfied smirk the crowd dancing and drinking.

“Nat, you’re gonna have to trust me” you plead, walking towards her as your eyes meet Ivanov’s.

You approach the woman, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. A group of men move aside, enjoying the show that is most definitely not for them. 

Sitting on Natasha’s lap, you pull her closer by the collar of her shirt, hands going down her stomach all the way to the belt loop of her pants.

Ignoring the heat that creeps up your cheeks, you take a shot of tequila from the waiter walking by you, placing the slice of lime on Natasha’s mouth. You down the shot in one swift motion and then connect your lips with hers, taking the slice from her mouth.

“Come to the VIP area” a man appears behind you, pulling you away from Natasha. The woman is quick to stop him, a hand on his arm.

“Don’t” you warn her, because causing a scene won’t do you any good. You walk behind the man, looking around as you’re finally granted access to the VIP area.

To your surprise, there’s a second, more private room where Ivanov and all of his criminals gather around. He laughs when he sees you walk inside, patting the space next to him.

“Nice show out there” he says with a thick Russian accent. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough for me” you say, hoping his attention will go back to the conversation happening with the rest of the men.

Sure enough, they begin to argue and you take the opportunity to lean forward and plant the bug on the table. 

“For you” a bartender appears out of nowhere, making you flinch. “You’re gonna need it for later” 

“That’s definitely spiked” Natasha comments. Her voice brings you back to reality.

“Cheers” is all you say.

You wait around for a while longer, until one of the bodyguards asks you to follow him to another room. To your horror, he locks you inside.

“Natasha, extraction” you plead, looking around the room for a way out. No answer. “Nat, please come in”

You hear a commotion outside, and look around for a weapon or anything that will help you defend yourself.

“I told you I didn’t like this” Natasha says when she opens the door and you sigh with relief. “To be clear, I’m talking about the situation. Not the outfit”

“Nat…” you breathe, happy that she came back for you. The woman approaches you, inspecting your face. 

“Are you ok? Did you take the drink?” 

“Obviously not”

“Fine. Let’s go” she grabs your hand and as you walk past the VIP room, you find all of Ivanov’s men knocked unconscious.

“Aww, all of this for me?” you joke, your hand going to your chest.

Natasha doesn’t answer, keeping a tight grip on your hand as you escape the strip club. You think she might be upset because you put the both of you at risk.

Until you’re out on the street and she pushes you against the wall, her body trapping you in place.

“I really wanted to do this nicely” her eyes drift to your cleavage and the look of pure lust drives you forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. “Go out with me” she says when you break apart.

“Dressed like this or…?” you joke, biting your lip.

“No, I’d like to be the only one enjoying this view”

“Ok” you laugh. She’s about to lean forward again when you hear a couple of men running around, probably looking for you. “We should go” Natasha complains and you kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely gonna need help to take this clothes off”

“Let’s go” she says, looking around the street before pulling you to the car that you parked hours ago. 

“Your room or mine?”

“Which one is farthest away from Wanda?” Natasha says, buckling her seatbelt and turning on the car.

“What?” 

“Trust me, it’s for everyone’s own good. Your thoughts aren’t the only thing that will get very loud”

You laugh as she speeds back to the Compound. 

At last, you were about to get lucky, with the girl of your dreams no less.

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Jihoon, a shy guy, really wants to talk to you一the new pretty neighbor一but finds it a difficult mission. To help him out, he send his robot friend, Beep Boop, to make the connection as he watches through his window. Surprisingly, you adored Beep Boop, and his creator, Jihoon. — WC: 3.3k — WARNINGS: Fluff, social anxiety, isolation, potential overthinking, Beep Boop is a great buddy! [Issue Club Serie] — This is part 1 of Shy!Woozi. Check the Part 2

Jihoon stretched out on the bed, hearing the telltale beep of a reversing truck. The driver seemed less than careful, and the sound grated on Jihoon's nerves, pulling him out of his drowsy state. With a sigh, he finally opened the window, curious to see what the commotion was about. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed the window next door, previously closed for months, was now open. A moving truck was pulling away, leaving behind an air of change.

Jihoon’s mind wandered back to the previous resident, Miss Kim, who used to play the piano beautifully. He remembered the rainy nights when he was alone at home and Ahjussi would bring him kimchi, the warm, spicy smell filling the room. It had been a shame to see Ahjussi move to the countryside.

Curious about the new occupants, Jihoon went about his day, keeping an eye on the movement next door. The cool day felt refreshing, and the sunlight streaming through his window warmed his room. He picked up a poetry book, one he had started but never finished, and sat on his soft bed, losing track of time as he leafed through the pages.

Before he knew it, he was holding the last page of the book. "Yeah, it looks like I'm going to have to read it all again," he murmured to himself. Why were poetry books always so short? He didn't even understand most of what he had read.

But he knew the reason for his distraction. The open window in his room gave a clear view of the house next door. He could see newspapers scattered on the floor, evidence of a fresh start, and a newly painted wall. And then, there was you.

Your hair fell insistently over your face as you painted, your hands methodically rolling the paint onto the wall. Jihoon watched, intrigued. You seemed so focused, so immersed in your task.

Jihoon bit his lip, the internal struggle playing out on his face. Should he say something? Should he offer you help? From his window, you could clearly see or hear him if he did. He wished he had more social skills, the confidence to simply say, 'Hi, if you need help, I'm Jihoon, your new neighbor.' But no, striking up a conversation with someone he had never seen before, especially a girl, felt impossible. What if you thought he was weird? Or worse, what if you thought he was coming on too strong?

Feeling stupid for not being able to start a simple conversation, he sighed. After all, the architecture of the old houses in this neighborhood meant the windows were ridiculously large. You could see practically everything in your neighbor's life if you didn't have good curtains.

Jihoon was pulled out of his self-banter when you turned around, facing his window. He quickly hid himself against the wall, leaving your line of sight. You frowned, confused, then resumed your painting. But in his hasty movement, Jihoon noticed a treasure—his robot, a project he had worked on for college. A big friend that could help him interact with his new neighbor, at least as a conversation starter.

Meanwhile, you were in the kitchen, putting supplies on the counter, when you heard a bell—not your doorbell, but some kind of chime. You frowned and opened your front door, only to be met by a robot with a humanoid shape, dressed in a big pink hoodie. Instead of a head, it had a large tablet displaying cute, animated emotions.

You looked around, unsure if you should talk to this... thing, or if it might explode if you said a word. Tentatively, you spoke, "Hi, big friend... how can I help you?"

The screen on the robot’s head displayed the word 'Welcome' and then a cute basket extended from its torso. Hesitant, you picked it up. As soon as you did, the robot turned around and rolled away on its wheels, heading towards the sidewalk. You stood there, paralyzed in your doorway, clutching the basket and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Um, thank you?" you called after it, not knowing if it could hear you.

The basket was filled with cookies一cookies that you can easily find in the market, but the intention is cute一, a small note tucked among them. You opened the note, which read:

"Hi! I'm your neighbor. I hope you enjoy these cookies. Welcome to the neighborhood! - Jihoon"

Jihoon doesn't know how many times he wrote and rewrote this, trying to make it beautiful and presentable for you to read.

You looked back at the robot, now waiting patiently at the sidewalk. Smiling to yourself, you felt a warm sense of welcome.

Back in his room, Jihoon watched anxiously from the window, biting his lip again. This time, though, it was out of nervous anticipation. He saw you reading the note and, after a moment, a smile spread across your face. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

The house was coming together nicely, and installing a few essentials was a breeze. Some furniture would come with time, but you had to admit, you were struggling to put together this wooden bench for your backyard. The sun was beating down on your skin, and you had already rebuilt the bench a couple of times, each time more frustrating than the last.

Beep beep

You heard the now-familiar sound. Glancing up, you saw the robot again, its tablet head showing a curious expression. You scoffed, feeling almost embarrassed that even the robot was witnessing your struggle with the instruction manual.

Before you could say anything, the screen changed, displaying a tutorial on how to assemble the exact wooden bench. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow, this would help a lot. Thanks, buddy," you said, genuinely appreciative. But then you glanced up at the scorching sun. "But the sun is brutal today. I hope you don't overheat or something."

You quickly opened the umbrella and positioned it over the robot, casting a nice shadow. "There you go, some shade for you. Now, let's get this bench sorted out."

Following the tutorial step by step, you began assembling the bench correctly this time. The robot beeped encouragingly, its screen displaying a thumbs-up emoji.

"Okay, piece A connects to piece B, and then this screw goes here..." you muttered to yourself, feeling more confident with each step. "This is actually going pretty well."

The robot beeped again, displaying a smiley face.

"Thanks for the help. I don't know what I'd do without you," you said, wiping some sweat from your forehead. "I guess I should also thank Jihoon, right? He really knows how to make a good first impression."

The robot nodded, or at least it looked like a nod, with the screen displaying an animated head bobbing up and down.

You laughed again, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with the machine. "Tell Jihoon I said thanks, okay?"

The robot beeped once more, its screen now displaying a "You're Welcome" message before it turned and rolled back towards Jihoon's house.

You wondered who was controlling this super kind robot. Jihoon must have seen you struggling with the bench all morning and sent the robot to help. You chuckled at the thought; he probably wasn't the best with assemblies himself. But it was endearing how you found yourself listening attentively to the robot, even asking if it could replay part of the video. When Jihoon replayed the part, your impressed face was priceless. You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, and Jihoon laughed too, watching from his window.

The umbrella part? That was pure instinct. You just didn't want the poor robot to overheat in the sun. Jihoon found that incredibly thoughtful. He mused that it was something only a woman would think of, a gentle touch he always admired. He wondered if you would do the same for him, considering his pale skin burned easily under the sun, but he brushed the thought aside, not wanting to dwell on it.

Days passed, and you missed your robot friend. After a particularly rough week, you found yourself sitting in your front yard, on your now fully assembled bench, drinking a cola. The night was calm, the neighborhood quiet. Then you saw it—a cute pixeled face approaching.

Beep beep, it sounded.

You couldn't help but smile. Tonight, the robot was dressed in a tiny blazer with a red tie.

You laughed, "Well, don't you look elegant tonight! Any special occasion?"

"I'm curious to know the person behind you, buddy," you continued, "all dressed up and everything."

To your amazement, the robot spoke. With a robotic yet clear voice, it said, "Hello, I am here to keep you company. Jihoon thought you might like that."

Your eyes widened in surprise.

"You can talk!" you exclaimed, still processing the surprise.

“Yes, technology is getting scary, isn’t it?” the robot replied in a robotic voice, but with a hint of playfulness.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re too cute to be scary. I think you need a name.”

The robot made a giggling sound, a funny robotized laugh that made you chuckle. 

“How about… Beep Boop?” You suggest. 

“Beep Boop,” the robot repeated, its screen showing a happy face. “I like it.”

As you sat on the bench with Beep Boop, you couldn't help but wonder. "So, Beep Boop, why did Jihoon send you to talk to me?"

Beep Boop's screen flashed a thoughtful emoji before responding. "Jihoon thinks you look cool. But... he's weird."

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. "Weird? How so?"

Jihoon, watching through the robot's camera, felt a sense of anxiety.

Beep Boop continued, "He finds it hard to talk to people. Especially girls."

Your expression softened. "Oh, I see. Well, everyone has their quirks. He's kind to send you over, though."

Beep Boop's screen displayed a nodding emoji. "Jihoon says he likes watching you build things. He thought you might need a friend."

You smiled, feeling empathy. "That's really sweet of him. You can tell him he can come over whenever he feels ready. I'm not the type of person who's going to judge."

Jihoon, on the other end, felt a rush of relief.

"Do you think Jihoon likes cola?" you asked.

"Yes, Jihoon likes cola," Beep Boop replied.

You stood up, grabbing a plastic bag from inside and placing a few cans of cola in it. Tying the bag to Beep Boop, you patted the robot's head. "Here, take these to him. Maybe it'll help him feel more comfortable."

"Thank you," Beep Boop said, the screen displaying a happy face.

"You're welcome, Beep Boop. Tell Jihoon I appreciate him sending you over and that he can come by anytime."

As Beep Boop rolled away with the bag of cola, you watched with a smile. 

[...]

You affirmed that everything was fine, but a part of you couldn't help but find the whole "Beep Boop" thing slightly funny. But honestly, you found the idea rather adorable. It was intelligent of him to create such a robot—amazing, actually. 

Even though you hadn't seen Jihoon face-to-face, you thought he was pretty cool. From the glimpses you'd caught of him through the window, he looked quite handsome. And through Beep Boop, you learned that he liked music, had finished college, and worked remotely, which explained why he rarely left his house.

On the other side, Jihoon had been mentally preparing himself. You had been so kind with Beep Boop, and he couldn't imagine you hurting a mosquito. You were careful with the robot, even hugged it sometimes, and the little pats on its electronic head and the goodies you sent through it—Jihoon appreciated every gesture. 

Why should he hide himself any longer? 

He saw you arriving home today, your bag slung over your shoulder as you entered your house. He waited for a moment, then saw you in your bedroom after your bath. Breathing deeply, he opened his window.

"Psst!" he called out, trying to get your attention.

You turned towards his window, seeing Jihoon there, ready to talk, for the first time. His skin glowed softly under the moonlight, his blonde hair swaying gently in the breeze. His elbows rested on the windowsill, and you noticed his cheeks were blushing. You smiled and approached your window, leaning on it.

"Jihoon?" you asked, and he nodded shyly.

"Nice to meet you, Jihoon," you said, tilting your head.

Jihoon's feet were shaking anxiously where you couldn't see, but he managed to speak. "I, um, wanted to say hi in person. You've been really nice to Beep Boop and... and me."

You chuckled softly. "It's nice to finally meet the person behind Beep Boop. You're pretty amazing, you know? Creating such a robot."

Jihoon blushed deeper.  “I hope Beep Boop wasn’t too weird. I just... I didn’t know how to introduce myself.”

“Beep Boop was great. Very helpful, actually. And pretty entertaining.”

"Thank you. It was a college project, but I'm glad it's been useful. I just wanted to make things a bit easier. And maybe... I thought it would be a way to talk to you.”

You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, just looking at each other. Jihoon started to feel the anxiety creep back in, wondering if he should close the window and hide away again. But then you broke the silence.

“You’re so pretty, Jihoon,” you said softly.

Jihoon’s eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. “R-really? Thank you. You’re... you’re pretty too.”

You smiled warmly, feeling a flutter in your chest. "You know, you can come over anytime. You don't have to send Beep Boop every time. I promise I don't bite."

Jihoon laughed nervously. "I’ll keep that in mind. And thank you for the cola. It was really thoughtful."

"You're welcome," you said, your smile widening. "It's the least I could do for my new friend."

Jihoon’s heart swelled with warmth. He felt a sense of relief and happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too," you replied, feeling the same warmth. "Goodnight, Jihoon."

"Goodnight," he said, and as he closed his window, he couldn't stop smiling.

You watched him disappear behind the curtains, and you were happy that he felt comfortable talking with you, even if it was only for a few minutes. 

You decided to take things slow, making sure Jihoon never felt pressured. The next day, as you watered your plants in the garden, Beep Boop appeared once again. Seeing an opportunity, you approached the robot with a smile.

"Hey, Beep Boop," you said warmly, "can you tell Jihoon something for me?"

Beep Boop's screen displayed a curious emoji. "Sure, what do you want me to tell him?"

You leaned in a bit closer, knowing Jihoon was likely watching through the camera. "Give him my number," you said, reciting it carefully. "Tell him he can text me anytime."

Beep Boop's screen showed a thumbs-up emoji, and you glanced up at Jihoon's window, giving a thumbs-up yourself. Almost immediately, you felt your phone buzz with a notification. Smiling to yourself, you knew it was Jihoon.

From that point on, you made an effort to bring out the best in Jihoon, genuinely wanting to hear more about him. The idea turned out to be a great success. Jihoon slowly began opening up, and now he would even give you a good morning through the window when you both opened the wooden shutters at the same time.

Of course, it took courage for Jihoon to start with the Beep Boop thing, but your kindness had helped him more than he could ever express. Now, you found yourselves often in each other's company, albeit separated by the window.

Today, you were reading a book while Jihoon wrote letters for his songs. You both leaned on your respective windows, the quiet filled with the sounds of children playing in the street and birds singing. Occasionally, you would steal a glance at each other, sharing brief smiles. The windows were close enough to allow for light conversation without any problem.

"What's your book about today?" Jihoon asked softly, not wanting to break the serene atmosphere.

"It's a collection of poems," you replied, looking up from the pages. "They’re really beautiful, but sometimes I get lost in the metaphors."

Jihoon nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, when I'm writing lyrics, I have to take a step back to make sure they actually make sense."

You chuckled. "I'd love to hear some of your songs someday."

"Maybe one day," Jihoon said, his cheeks reddening a bit. "When I’m ready."

You both fell back into a comfortable silence. The connection you were building felt natural and unforced. Every now and then, your eyes would meet, and it felt like you were communicating more through those glances than words ever could.

After weeks of talking through windows, exchanging messages, and of course, through Beep Boop, it didn't take much time for the inevitable to happen.

You found yourself standing face to face with Jihoon at your door right now. There was no robot this time, just Jihoon nervously holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"Jihoon, you came!" you exclaimed, feeling a rush of happiness to see him standing so close to you.

Jihoon chuckled nervously, handing you the bouquet. "I, uh, brought these for you. I wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me."

You took the bouquet, the sweet scent of flowers filling the air. "Thank you, Jihoon. You didn't have to bring flowers, but I appreciate them." Stepping aside, you gestured for him to come in. "Come on in."

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before stepping into your home, his eyes scanning the interior briefly. "Your place is nice," he commented softly.

"Thanks," you replied, closing the door behind him. "Can I get you something to drink? Maybe some cola?" you added playfully, remembering how you had often sent cola through Beep Boop.

Jihoon chuckled again, a bit more relaxed now. "Sure, cola sounds great."

You led Jihoon to the living room, where you offered him a seat on the comfortable couch. As you fetched two cans of cola from the fridge, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. It was surreal to have Jihoon in your home after all the conversations and moments shared through windows and messages.

Handing him a can of cola, you sat down beside him. "So, what made you finally decide to come over today?" you asked curiously.

Jihoon took a sip of his drink, gathering his thoughts. "I... I wanted to see you face-to-face. It's different, you know? Talking through windows and messages is nice, but... being here with you feels... real."

You smiled warmly at him. "I feel the same way, Jihoon."

He nodded, looking down at his cola can for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "I know I've been a bit... hesitant. But I really enjoy talking to you, and I want to get to know you better."

"I'm glad you came," you said sincerely, reaching out to gently touch his hand. "I've enjoyed getting to know you too, Jihoon."

He smiled shyly, his cheeks turning pink. "Thanks for being patient with me."

"You're worth the wait," you assured him softly.

Jihoon's smile widened, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of confidence in his eyes.

[keyotos]

if this was a movie

summary — your book trope w/ hsr men!

includes — dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, & jing yuan

tana's words — i watched project x and let me tell you I WANT THOMAS SO BAD. something about a skinny nerdy white guy will ALWAYS GET ME. and then it inspired me to write different tropes bc project x is very 2010s trope type shi

also check out my note at the end!

dan heng

⎯ you guys are: grumpy x sunshine

⎯ i feel like out of all grumpyxsunshine duos you and dan heng would be the most chaotic grumpyxsunshine because to some extent the both of you are equally as unhinged.

⎯ if you ever need someone to pull you back when you get too erratic? leave it to dan heng! if dan heng needs someone to make him not sound as assholeish? leave it to you! you two balance each other out in the most perfect way

⎯the two of you reminds me of that one tiktok sound where it's like

"that's just the way he sounds, he has an asshole voice. tell him he's okay."

"everything's great."

"dude."

⎯ you two are my FAVORITE kind of grumpyxsunshine couple because you two are both so chaotic??

⎯ your energy is just so bouncy?? like you can bounce all over the place and you're just so energetic and he's over here like meh...

needless to say, he does appreciate your energy. most of the time, he usually fuels it (he says something purposefully boring bc you always refute his his boring response). your entire being makes him smile (which is rare), and that's why you guys work out so well.

and to add to my point, dan heng is just as important to you as well. you have a lot of energy, which is a good thing, but sometimes it can lead to distraction/erratic behavior/etc. dan heng is always the person who tugs you back to earth. he's your rock in every situation: he's the logical reasoning behind your ideas, he's your pragmatist, and he's your gravity, keeping you still and calm when needed.

— and i also wanted to indulge more in my hc that you and dan heng are so chaotic together

he doesn't shut down your ideas. he just adds logical reasoning to them. those are two very different things. if you have a good idea (you usually do) that sounds reasonable (it doesn't even have to be extremely reasonable either), he'll full on encourage it.

— so you could literally have the most random and out of pocket idea ever, and as long as you back it up with some evidence (doesn't even have to be good), dan heng will approve. i think that's true love.

⎯ such a chaotic duo like you would sacrifice yourself for the world but HE would definitely sacrifice the world for you.

gepard

⎯ you guys are enemies to lovers

⎯ ik a lot of people expect like friends to lovers or something softer but NO you guys are enemies to lovers.

⎯ gepard is so HEADSTRONG and STUBBORN which is why i think he’s the perfect person for the enemies to lovers trope. like ofc his love is going to be so sweet and kind later, but the beginning…

you two are both going to be very determined and you will both fight for what you believe in. that passion makes you two such a good couple, and it also makes your love exhilarating and ongoing, bc that stubbornness you two share will never go away.

you guys definitely have silly little banter and those moments where you guys accidentally brush hands and you guys both blush. lingering touches that may insinuate another feeling that gets you hot

⎯ but you two are like stubborn af. so no confessing anytime soon! it would definitely be a slow burn romance because of your stubbornness and you two are just in denial

⎯ i want to talk a bit more abt you two being enemies: i guess you ideals differ because gepard is so devoted to his orders while you are more of a carefree spirit. you’re more of a rule breaker and he’s more of a rule follower.

⎯ at first you would have rather died than ever spoke to him. his uptight nature and the way he acted so proper utterly pissed you off. serval would have to be the only way you could converse w/ gepard w/o biting his head off

⎯ in the end, after some forced proximity, you two would def be developing some feelings.

⎯ with enemies to lovers, there will be lots of pining. which is why i think enemies to lovers is the perfect gepard trope.

since he’s captain of the silvermane guards at such a young age, he probably doesn’t have a lot of experience in the relationship department. so he’s stuck dealing with being hopelessly and utterly in love with you

everything abt the enemies to lovers trope describes your relationship. the initial hatred, the touches, the PINING, the middle ground.

⎯ after you guys have like a hot make out session i think all the feelings will be cleared up (LMAO)

blade

⎯ your trope is: second chance romance

hear me out: you guys both met in the past because you two were both stellaron hunters. however, the paths you two chose were different. you two were so in love with each other, but destiny had other plans.

now we are in the present, where blade sees you once again, and all his feelings come crashing back down into him. everything he’s suppressed about you: your face, your smile, your laugh; it’s all coming back up

⎯ ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THE VISION!!!!

⎯ you guys make your first encounter, and (depending on your own scenario) it either ends in longing or pain. blade hasn’t seen you in (probably) years.

when you end up spending more time together, the tension is THICK. old feelings are obviously not gone. body language is all pointing to you. breathing gets faster and why do you really want to kiss him????

⎯ something abt intense pining and sexual tension just gets me y’all

there’s obviously past feelings in the air, and none of you want to acknowledge it. so, you two suffice on brushing each others’ hands when you walk past each other, long stares from across the room, and watching each other’s every move.

between the both of you, you would make the first move. it’d be like an accident; it would be one of those movie scenes where the girl/guy asks, “is this weird?” and the guy goes IN and he’s like “not at all.”

⎯ and then the next day you both are freaking out bc what if fails like last time??

idk something about longing and missing someone dearly just screams blade to me. the thought of someone on your mind 24/7. blade having you on his mind 24/7??

sampo

⎯ you guys are: fake dating

⎯ i’m a little on the fence but hear me out

⎯ you two agree to fake dating because it’s both mutually beneficial. it would be no strings attached. plus, you would be able to get away from that one guy who keeps flirting with you, and sampo has evidence that he can commit to something.

⎯ but when does “no strings attached” turn to more?

suddenly, the once friendly arm around the shoulder makes your heart beat quicker. the wink he always gives you makes your stomach explode with butterflies. the friendly offering of a rose makes you blush more than you should.

you aren't the only one affected. sampo swears he feels his heart skip multiple beats after he hears you laugh at one of his jokes. when you took his hand into yours once (it was an act to fool others), his heart nearly stopped in his chest. and suddenly he finds himself making more quips and trying to get closer to you, even though he knows the risks.

⎯ now, you both are left confused with your feelings bc BOTH OF U DON'T WANT TO MESS IT UP.

⎯ you both did not think it would turn out this way. before this, you were friends making a beneficial agreement. you guys were fine.

⎯ that is a lie. i just lied. you guys always had some thought about dating each other. sometimes sampo looked a little too good, and sometimes sampo found your eyes a little too mesmerizing…

back to present time. there is so much tension to the point where you both want to explode. and then there are thoughts. maybe you want sampo to be your boyfriend for real. maybe sampo does want commitment. scratch that, because he doesn’t want commitment. he wants you. he just wants you, and that’s all.

⎯ now how do you confess? or do you just hold in the feelings

jing yuan

⎯ CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS. I WILL NOT BE ELABORATING BC THIS HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE.

⎯ ik he was training hard asf in his childhood, but that doesn’t mean u couldn’t have snuck in (i haven’t got far enough in the game to know if you can or not LOL)

⎯ you guys are cute little buddies, because the both of you probably had no friends! and bc of that, an adorable bond formed between the two of you.

growing up, that bond would remain unchanged. even though you lived down w/ everyone else while jing yuan was living seclusively, that never stopped you from seeing him

honestly, you thought you were always going to be best friends. but when someone asked you if you were ever going to get a boyfriend, you realized that the only person you could really see yourself with was jing yuan.

⎯ teenage you had a CRISIS. like you were freaking out after you uncovered your recent revelation. bc you can’t see yourself w ANY GUY EXCEPT YOUR BEST FRIEND??? YOU WANT TO DATE YOUR BEST FRIEND????

⎯ you think you are the only one that feels this way but it’s a LIE. bc JING YUAN FEELS THE EXACT SAME WAY.

after his training, once he rests, his mind constantly flutters to you. sometimes he scolds himself for not focusing on criticism or improvements because he’s too distracted by the fact that you’ll be coming over that day. his thoughts are literally you.

⎯ there was a period in time where you both thought about confessing, however, the whole fiasco w/ his mentor got into the way of that. it was messy, it was sad, and it was not a good time for the both of you. bc of that, you two both set back your feelings due to personal reasons (you wanted him to be emotionally better, he didn’t want to be a burden).

it was years later when you two confessed your feelings for each other. you two were both looking at a photograph of the both of you when you guys were younger, and you confessed you had a crush on him back then.

bro goes, “i have a crush on you too.” and you were like, “haha we should’ve told each other,” but then you’re like PRESENT TENSE!?!?!?

⎯ eventually it is a happy ending in the end! obviously. hehe.

tana’s words ⎯ sorry this was a little vague 😭 if you would like for me to elaborate on some of these scenarios, lmk in my ask box!

[ellecdc]

Mother, im sitting here at 4am, eating mini easter eggs and ive had tge most brilliant idea!! (Inspired by @inkdrinkerworld 's fic)

Okay so, poly!moonwater and readers been having trouble sleeping due to tensions/problems with her pureblood family. As a result shes been taking more naps, but they arent restful. So reader were napping in Rems bed (the dungeons were too cold) but after a fitful 30 minutes she gets up groggy, sleep deprived and beyond frustrated. She stumbles her way down to the common room, pin point Sirius lounging across the couch and promptly throws herself down to cuddle with him and continue her nap. Everyone (minus Siri) is shook. Jamie even asks if she got the wrong person because Reggie was sitting over there (in which he got a one eyed death glare before she burrowed into Siris chest and passed out).

Now, what everybody else didnt know was that Siri had more or less adopted reader as his own (she remined him so much of Reggie, being her big brother was 2nd nature). And while Barty was her person, he was a little too crazy to be comforting in this situation ("y/n, i'll get rid of them for you. Its not hard to do so" "Barty, no."). And of course Siri nows how bad their kind of familys are so he'd been taking care of reader on the down low as an older brother would.

Bonus if Reggie then decides that looks warm and fuzzy and wants Siri cuddles too so he joins ( it took him so long to get to a point where he could let himself be vunerable enough to openly allow Siri to take care of him 😭)

aweeee poor reader. this ended up being way more serious than I thought it would be? like it's not funny at all, there's no humour (which feels odd to me, usually I can throw some jokes or banter in there) but plenty of hurt comfort???.......idk, I can't tell if this is any good, it feels very different from my usual pieces

poly!moonwater x fem!reader whose family sucks (but it's very Sirius-centric)

CW: mentions of insomnia, mentions of abusive families, making fun of only children (sorry), hurt/comfort

You were miserable to say the least; you couldn’t remember when the last time you had a restful sleep was, and nothing you did seemed to help.

The closer it got to the Winter Holidays, the more your mind seemed to spiral. Every time you began to relax, your heart pounded as if you’d accidentally leaned too far back in your chair, reminding you of your upcoming visit home. Every time you closed your eyes, you were bombarded with images of angry faces and violent curses being shot at you.

The Slytherin dungeons were too cold, and every time you found your way into Regulus’ dorm, Barty insisted on butting in, and though you appreciated his support, you couldn’t handle his threats promises to burn down your home with your parents in it. 

Remus and Regulus both suggested you perhaps talk to Madame Pomfrey about getting some dreamless sleep or sleeping draught, but you were too embarrassed to admit to your two overprotective boyfriends that you’ve used them so frequently during your life for this very reason that they had lost all efficacy. 

It had gotten to the point that you managed to get the most sleep in the library bent over the table with your face on your book whilst Remus and Regulus did their work (and sometimes yours), and that honestly left you feeling more painfully tired than you had been before your nap.

So, you were nearly falling asleep at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall over your chicken and roast potatoes when Remus gently nudged you and suggested you go lie down for a bit and you wanted to weep into your potatoes which was only slightly less embarrassing than sleeping in them, causing him and Regulus to bring you up to Gryffindor tower.

You’d kicked them both out of the Marauders’ dorm room after some time – Remus for snoring and Regulus because the sound of him turning the pages of his book was distracting you. He promised to stop reading, but then he breathed too loudly and you started crying.

You were overtired, emotional, and running on fumes.

You’d counted puffskeins, you’d had a warm glass of milk, you’d taken off articles of clothing and reconfigured your outfit numerous times (which was currently Remus’ jumper and no pants), and you’d tried every position imaginable to no avail. 

You think you might have perhaps gotten five minutes of sleep before you woke up with a start, a barely repressed scream grating through your teeth.

Feeling disturbingly weepy and no less groggy from your horrid sleep, you pulled on a pair of your sweatpants and grabbed the throw blanket from the end Remus’ bed before trudging down the stairs to the common room.

“You should have seen the look on Filch’s face- oh! Hi Y/N!” James called as you made your way over to the three-seater and stood over the black-haired boy currently occupying it.

“Oh, Trouble.” He cooed sympathetically at you before kicking his feet out, laying back, and opening his arms for you to join him. You quickly climbed on top of him, and he tucked you in between the back of the sofa and his side, bending your knee so that your thigh rested on top of his, and pulled the blanket over the two of you.

You let out a shaky sigh and felt the first few tears fall from your eyes and onto Sirius’ chest.

“Uhm...” James said loudly, looking over to both Regulus and Remus cuddled in a large plush chair from his place on the loveseat with Lily like ‘are you seeing this right now?’. “I think you’ve got the wrong wizard there, L/N.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“No, she’s quite alright.” Sirius gritted back at him, looking far more severe than James thought the situation called for as he rubbed his hand consolingly up and down your arm. 

James looked to your boyfriends, his face clearly asking all the questions that his mouth wasn’t.

“He helps, sometimes.” Regulus admitted, not looking particularly happy that you chose his brother over him, but not nearly as murderous as James figured he might look if he’d found Lily snuggled up like that with some other bloke. And it appeared as though the look of heartbreak on Remus’ face was caused more by your current sorry state and less about your current cuddle partner.

“But...your brother?” James asked, still befuddled over this development. “Doesn’t she usually go to Junior for things like this?”

Sirius scoffed. “Junior’s solution to almost anything is fire or murder.”

“Or both.” You whimpered quietly, causing Sirius to tighten his arm around you and bring his other hand up to continue stroking your arm.

“Besides, Barty’s an only child.” Regulus said flippantly.

“What’s that got to do with it?” James asked, slightly offended at the insinuation that anything may be wrong with him on account of his only child-ness. 

Regulus’ irritable demeanor over Sirius usurping you was quickly replaced by a cocky smirk at getting under James’ skin.

“Let me ask you this, Potter: last summer when Lily returned your letters unopened and called you an arrogant toerag after saying she’d rather date the giant squid, whose arms did you cry into?”

“He didn’t cry.” Lily laughed at the same time as James answered “Sirius’” without any hesitation.

“What?” Lily asked, looking slightly horrified that she may have actually hurt James’ feelings.

“Oh, all the time, every time, actually.” James said readily. 

“He got snot on so many of my favourite band-tee’s, Red. As a matter of fact, I expect retribution.” Sirius commented.

“And why do you think you cried into Sirius’ arms?” Regulus continued.

“Well...because he’s my best mate.” James said simply.

“You may think that’s the reason, but you’re wrong. It’s because Sirius is an older brother.”

James scoffed at that. “Please, that has nothing to do with it!”

“Have you ever cried in Remus’ arms?”

“No, but-”

“Pettigrew’s?”

James grimaced but answered honestly. “No.”

“No. Because they’re not older brothers.” Regulus said definitively.

“That actually makes sense...” Lily mused aloud. 

“You say that like you’re surprised, Evans. I know you’re not used to good idea’s coming out of men’s mouths, but I do assure you it happens more frequently than you might imagine.” Regulus taunted, earning him a pillow being hurled at his head. 

Much to James’ chagrin, his seeker reflexes caught the pillow before it made impact with his face. 

“Tosser.” James grumbled. 

“Would you guys shut up.” Sirius whispered, causing everyone to look over at you. 

Regulus couldn’t even find it in him to be miffed when he saw you sleeping what looked to be quite peacefully in Sirius’ arms. Your eyes were slightly swollen from your tears, and he could see the tracks they had left on your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose, but you looked so content. 

“So... all big brothers know how to do that?” James asked incredulously.

“I doubt it.” Sirius commented quietly.

“Only ones who know what it’s like to live in a Pureblood hellscape and needed to share his bed with his younger brother who was too scared to sleep on his own for years.” Regulus added quietly, staring unseeingly towards you and Sirius. Remus pulled Regulus tighter into his side and began rubbing his arm consolingly.

Suddenly, things started to make a little more sense to James. 

“I’ll write to mum.” James stated, causing both brothers, Lily, and Remus to look at him bemusedly.

“About what?” Remus asked finally.

“Y/N staying with us.” James said simply.

Regulus opened his mouth ready to argue; to argue that James didn’t have to and that he already took in both Sirius and Regulus. James didn’t owe Regulus anything. 

But Sirius spoke first.

“She should be with her big brother, Reggie.” Sirius said, shooting him an encouraging smile and wink.

And seeing how your breathing had fallen even with your mouth slightly ajar as you clutched to the fabric of Sirius’ jumper like it was a lifeline, who was Regulus to argue?

[estellan0vella]

Dating Them ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuta, Yuji, Megumi & Toge with special addition: Maki (REQUESTED) Masterlist

Satoru Gojo

Adventurous Dates: Gojo loves excitement and adventure, so expect dates filled with thrill-seeking activities like skydiving, bungee jumping, or exploring abandoned places. He'll always keep you on your toes.

Sense of Humor: Despite his serious demeanor in battle, Gojo has a playful and mischievous side, so be prepared for lots of witty banter and playful teasing during your dates. He'll keep you laughing all night long.

Spontaneity: Don't be surprised if Gojo suddenly whisks you away on a spontaneous road trip or decides to try out a new restaurant on a whim. He loves living in the moment and hates sticking to strict plans.

Confidence Booster: Gojo's confidence is infectious, and he'll always make you feel like the most important person in the room. He's not afraid to shower you with compliments and affection, boosting your self-esteem whenever you're feeling down.

Listener and Advisor: Despite his carefree attitude, Gojo is a great listener and always offers sound advice whenever you need it. Whether it's about school, work, or personal issues, he'll lend a sympathetic ear and help you work through any problems.

Protective Nature: As a Jujutsu Sorcerer, Gojo has a strong protective instinct, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe from harm. He'll always have your back in dangerous situations and will go to great lengths to ensure your well-being.

Intellectual Stimulation: Gojo is incredibly intelligent and well-read, so expect deep conversations about a wide range of topics, from philosophy and history to pop culture and current events. He'll challenge your mind and keep you intellectually stimulated.

Romantic Gestures: Despite his playful demeanor, Gojo knows how to be romantic when the occasion calls for it. Whether it's surprising you with flowers and chocolates or writing you heartfelt love letters, he'll always make sure you feel loved and cherished.

Respect for Independence: While Gojo loves spending time with you, he also respects your independence and understands the importance of having your own space and interests. He'll never try to control or smother you, allowing you to pursue your passions freely.

Unpredictable Romance: Dating Gojo is anything but boring. With his unpredictable nature and boundless energy, every day is a new adventure filled with surprises, laughter, and love. Get ready for a whirlwind romance unlike any other.

Drabble: You and Satoru Gojo are strolling through a bustling street market, the air filled with the aroma of exotic spices and the chatter of vendors. His hand is intertwined with yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm as you browse the colorful stalls.

"Hey, check this out," Satoru says, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he leads you to a stall selling handmade jewelry. You watch as he sifts through the intricate designs, his enthusiasm contagious.

"This one would look perfect on you," he declares, holding up a delicate silver necklace adorned with a small sapphire gemstone. You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness, and let him fasten it around your neck.

As you continue exploring the market, Satoru's attention is constantly drawn to the most peculiar items—a jar of glowing fireflies, a mysterious-looking mask, a book with a tattered cover. He's like a child in a candy store, his curiosity endless and infectious.

Eventually, the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the bustling market. Satoru suggests grabbing dinner at a nearby ramen shop, and you eagerly agree.

As you sit across from each other, slurping noodles and sharing laughs, you can't help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple yet unforgettable, filled with love and laughter. With Satoru by your side, every day is an adventure worth savouring.

Suguru Geto

Mysterious Dates: Suguru is not one to reveal everything about himself easily, so dates with him might involve a lot of mystery and surprise. He enjoys keeping you on your toes, planning unexpected outings or adventures that make every moment with him thrilling.

Intellectual Conversations: Geto is highly intelligent and well-read, so conversations with him are never dull. Whether you're discussing philosophy, literature, or the latest supernatural phenomena, he always has something insightful to contribute and enjoys engaging with your ideas and perspectives.

Dark Sense of Humor: Geto's humor tends to be on the darker side, often laced with sarcasm and wit. He appreciates someone who can match his dry humor and isn't easily offended by his sometimes macabre jokes.

Protective Nature: Despite his aloof exterior, Suguru cares deeply for those he's close to, and he's fiercely protective of his loved ones. He'll go to great lengths to ensure your safety and well-being, even if it means putting himself in danger.

Occasional Disappearances: As someone involved in the dangerous world of curses and sorcery, Suguru may occasionally have to disappear for extended periods to deal with supernatural threats. While it can be worrying, you understand that it comes with the territory and eagerly await his return, knowing he'll always come back to you.

Emotional Walls: Suguru has his fair share of emotional baggage, and he's not always quick to open up about his feelings. It takes time and patience to earn his trust, but once you do, you'll find a deeply caring and loyal partner beneath his stoic facade.

Romantic Gestures with a Twist: Geto may not be the most conventional romantic, but he has his own way of showing affection. Whether it's leaving cryptic messages for you to decipher or surprising you with a carefully curated selection of dark poetry, his gestures always come with an air of mystery and intrigue.

Drabble: You sit across from Suguru at a dimly lit cafe, the ambient chatter around you blending with the soft jazz music playing in the background. His piercing gaze flickers over the menu, lips quirking into a faint smirk as he considers his options. You watch him, captivated by the way his mind works, always calculating, always one step ahead.

When he finally looks up, his eyes meet yours, a hint of amusement dancing within them. "What do you recommend?" he asks, voice low and smooth like velvet.

You suggest a specialty coffee, and he nods, signaling the waiter with a subtle gesture. As you wait for your drinks, conversation flows effortlessly between you, shifting from mundane topics to the esoteric mysteries that both fascinate and haunt Suguru's world.

He leans in closer, his breath brushing against your skin as he confides in you, sharing glimpses of his past, his fears, his hopes. It's a rare moment of vulnerability, one that you cherish, knowing that he trusts you enough to let you in.

When the coffee arrives, Suguru takes a slow sip, savoring the rich aroma before meeting your gaze once more. "Thank you," he murmurs, a genuine warmth softening his usually guarded expression.

In that moment, you realize how much he means to you, how his enigmatic presence has woven itself into the fabric of your life. You reach across the table to brush your fingers against his and he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with a small quirk of his lips.

Kento Nanami

Loyalty Above All: Nanami values loyalty immensely, so in a relationship, he's the epitome of a faithful partner. Once he commits, he's all in, prioritizing his partner's happiness and well-being.

Reserved Affection: While Nanami might not be overtly affectionate in public, he shows his love through thoughtful gestures and actions. It could be something as simple as making your favorite meal after a long day or leaving little notes around the house.

Understanding and Respect: He's someone who deeply respects his partner's independence and space. He understands the importance of individual growth and encourages you to pursue your passions and dreams.

Quality Time: Despite his busy schedule, Nanami makes a concerted effort to spend quality time with his partner. Whether it's a quiet evening at home or a spontaneous weekend getaway, he cherishes these moments together.

Shared Interests: Nanami appreciates having common interests with his partner, whether it's enjoying a good book together, going on hikes, or simply binge-watching your favorite shows.

Trust and Communication: Trust and communication are non-negotiables for Nanami. He believes in open and honest dialogue, discussing any concerns or issues that may arise in the relationship calmly and respectfully.

Sense of Humor: Despite his serious demeanor, Nanami has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard. He loves sharing witty banter and inside jokes with his partner, finding joy in those little moments of laughter.

Supportive Partner: Nanami is your biggest cheerleader, always there to support you through life's ups and downs. Whether you're facing challenges at work or personal struggles, he's by your side, offering guidance and encouragement.

Surprising Romantic: While he may not be the most overtly romantic person, Nanami has his moments of surprising you with heartfelt gestures or unexpected romantic outings, showing that he truly cares and appreciates you.

Security and Stability: In Nanami's arms, you feel a sense of security and stability. His calm and composed demeanor serves as an anchor, providing you with the reassurance that no matter what happens, you have each other's backs.

Drabble: As you walk through the bustling streets, the weight of the day's stress begins to lift at the mere thought of returning home to Kento Nanami. The door creaks open, revealing the comforting glow of the living room lamp, casting soft shadows against the walls.

"Welcome back," his voice, warm and soothing, washes over you as you step inside. His presence alone brings a sense of calm, grounding you in the present moment.

You watch as he sets aside his paperwork, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. It's a silent invitation, one that you eagerly accept as you join him on the couch.

In the quiet intimacy of the evening, you find solace in each other's company. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as if they were made to fit together. There's no need for words; his touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of affection that words could never capture.

As you rest your head against his shoulder, you feel a sense of belonging wash over you, a feeling that this is where you're meant to be. In this moment, surrounded by his love, you realize that home isn't a place—it's the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the unwavering presence of Kento Nanami by your side.

Choso Kamo

Protective Nature: Choso is fiercely protective of his loved ones. When in a relationship, he would prioritize the safety and well-being of his partner above all else. Expect him to always have your back in any situation, whether it's fighting curses or dealing with everyday challenges.

Reserved yet Affectionate: Choso may come off as aloof or distant at first, but once he opens up to you, his affection knows no bounds. He expresses his love through subtle gestures, like cooking your favorite meals or silently watching over you when you sleep.

Deep Conversations: Choso is not one for small talk. He prefers deep, meaningful conversations where both partners can share their inner thoughts and feelings. Whether it's discussing philosophy, the mysteries of life, or simply sharing personal stories, he values intellectual stimulation in a relationship.

Physical Affection: Despite his stoic demeanor, Choso craves physical affection from his partner. He may not initiate it often, but he appreciates moments of closeness, whether it's holding hands, cuddling, or sharing a comforting hug after a long day.

Respectful of Boundaries: Choso respects boundaries and understands the importance of personal space. He won't pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with and will always communicate openly about his own needs and boundaries.

Adventurous Spirit: Dating Choso means embarking on thrilling adventures together. Whether it's exploring new places, trying exotic foods, or facing dangerous curses, he enjoys the excitement of discovering the unknown with his partner by his side.

Loyalty and Devotion: Once Choso commits to a relationship, he is fiercely loyal and devoted. He values honesty and integrity, and expects the same from his partner. Trust is paramount in his eyes, and he will do everything in his power to uphold it.

Emotional Support: Choso may not always know the right words to say, but he's a great listener and offers unwavering emotional support. Whether you're celebrating successes or facing hardships, he'll be there to lend a comforting shoulder to lean on.

Drabble: As you stroll through the bustling streets of the city, Choso walks quietly beside you, his presence both calming and reassuring. The neon lights illuminate the night, casting a soft glow upon his stoic features. You steal a glance at him, marvelling at the way his eyes gleam with a quiet intensity.

"Have you ever been to this part of town before?" you ask, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

Choso shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No, but I'm enjoying exploring it with you."

His words warm your heart, and you find yourself drawn to him even more. As you continue your journey through the labyrinth of streets, you can't help but feel grateful for this moment, for the simple joy of being by his side.

Suddenly, a gust of wind sends a flurry of cherry blossoms swirling around you, creating a magical spectacle of pink petals dancing in the air. Choso reaches out and catches one, his hand closing around it gently.

"For luck," he murmurs, sliding the flower into your hair.

You blush, feeling a surge of warmth spread through you at the simple gesture. In that moment, you realize how lucky you are to have Choso in your life

Ryomen Sukuna

Protective Nature: Dating Sukuna means having someone fiercely protective by your side. He may not openly admit it, but he's always keeping a close eye on your surroundings, ensuring your safety without you even realizing it.

Unexpected Gentleness: Despite his fierce reputation, Sukuna has moments of unexpected gentleness reserved only for you. Whether it's a soft touch, a tender word, or a protective arm around your shoulders, he shows his affection in subtle but meaningful ways.

Adventure Seeker: Sukuna isn't one to shy away from adventure, and dating him means embarking on thrilling journeys together. Whether it's exploring ancient ruins, seeking out powerful adversaries, or simply wandering through the wilderness, every moment with him is an exhilarating experience.

Shared Secrets: As someone with a complex past and deep-seated secrets, Sukuna doesn't open up easily. However, as your relationship grows, he begins to trust you with pieces of his past, sharing intimate details and vulnerabilities that he hides from the rest of the world.

Fiery Passion: Passionate doesn't even begin to describe Sukuna's intensity in both love and war. When it comes to you, his passion blazes like wildfire, consuming everything in its path. From heated arguments to fiery embraces, every moment with him is electrifying.

Balancing Act: Dating Sukuna requires a delicate balance between his human and demonic sides. While his demonic nature can be intimidating, his human side craves love and companionship. You find yourself navigating the complexities of both, knowing that even the slightest misstep could have dire consequences.

Mutual Growth: Despite his centuries of existence, Sukuna is still capable of growth and change, especially with you by his side. As you navigate the ups and downs of your relationship, you both learn from each other, evolving and becoming better versions of yourselves in the process.

Unwavering Loyalty: Once you earn Sukuna's loyalty and affection, you have it for life. He may be ruthless to his enemies, but he's fiercely loyal to those he cares about. Knowing that he would do anything to protect you gives you a sense of security like no other.

Drabble: You sit beside Sukuna, watching the flames dance in the darkness. His presence is both comforting and electrifying, his aura tinged with a dangerous allure that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," he remarks, his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder.

You glance at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Just enjoying the moment," you reply, leaning into his warmth.

His gaze softens, a rare tenderness flickering in those crimson eyes. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders protectively.

In that moment, surrounded by darkness and danger, you find solace in his embrace. With Sukuna by your side, you know that no matter what challenges may come, you'll face them together, bound by an unbreakable bond forged in fire and passion.

Toji Fushiguro

Quiet Moments: Despite his rough exterior, Toji enjoys quiet moments too. You'll often find yourselves enjoying peaceful evenings together, maybe watching the sunset or stargazing. These moments allow him to open up in his own way, sharing thoughts and stories he might not otherwise.

Late Night Talks: Despite his busy schedule, Toji cherishes the quiet moments he gets to spend with you. Late at night, when the rest of the world is asleep, he'll open up about his past, his dreams, and his fears, trusting you with his deepest thoughts and feelings.

Cooking Together: Toji might not be a master chef, but he enjoys cooking together with you. Expect lots of experimentation in the kitchen, with varying degrees of success. Even if the meal doesn't turn out perfectly, the experience of working together and laughing over mishaps is what matters most.

Protective Nature: Toji's protective instincts run deep. He'll always prioritize your safety and well-being, sometimes to the point of being overly cautious. While it can be frustrating at times, you appreciate knowing that he always has your back.

Surprising Affection: Toji may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but he has his ways of showing you he cares. Whether it's a gentle touch, a stolen kiss when he thinks no one's looking, or a thoughtful gesture that catches you off guard, his love for you is undeniable.

Equal Partners: Toji sees you as his equal in every way, and he'll treat you as such. He'll never belittle your achievements or dismiss your ambitions, and he'll always support you in pursuing your goals, no matter how big or small they may be.

Respecting Independence: Toji respects your independence and values your individuality. He'll never try to change you or smother you with constant attention. Instead, he encourages you to pursue your passions and dreams, offering his support every step of the way.

Blunt Honesty: Toji is known for his straightforwardness, and that doesn't change in a relationship. He'll always tell you exactly what's on his mind, even if it's not what you want to hear. But his honesty also means you'll never have to second-guess where you stand with him.

Unconventional Romance: Your relationship with Toji is anything but conventional, and you wouldn't have it any other way. From his blunt honesty to his unexpected gestures of affection, every moment with him is an adventure filled with surprises and excitement.

Drabble: You're sitting together on the rooftop of your apartment building, the city lights twinkling below like a sea of stars. Toji's leaning against the railing, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The night air is cool against your skin, but his presence beside you radiates warmth.

"You ever think about the future?" he asks, his voice low and contemplative.

You tilt your head, studying his profile in the dim light. "Sometimes," you admit. "But right now, I'm just happy to be here with you."

Toji quirks an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Smooth talker," he teases, but there's a hint of fondness in his tone.

You reach out and gently bump your shoulder against his. "Seriously though," you say softly. "As long as I'm with you, the future doesn't seem so scary."

For a moment, Toji is silent, his gaze softening as he looks at you. Then, he stubs out his cigarette and turns to face you fully, his hand finding yours in the darkness.

"Guess we'll just have to take it one day at a time," he says, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Together."

Yuta Okkotsu

Protective Nature: Yuta is fiercely protective of those he cares about. He'll always have your back in any situation, whether it's a dangerous cursed spirit encounter or just offering emotional support during tough times.

Adventurous Spirit: Yuta loves to explore and try new things, so dates with him would often involve exciting adventures like hiking in the mountains, exploring hidden shrines, or trying out exotic cuisines at hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

Gentle and Considerate: Despite his tough exterior and his past struggles, Yuta is incredibly gentle and considerate towards his partner. He'll always listen to your thoughts and feelings, and he'll go out of his way to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Shared Interests: Yuta is a big fan of movies, especially horror films, so movie nights with him would be a common occurrence. You'll find yourselves curled up on the couch together, popcorn in hand, watching your favorite films or discovering new ones.

Training Together: Yuta takes his training as a sorcerer very seriously, and he'd love to share that part of his life with you. You might find yourselves practicing martial arts together or studying curses and exorcism techniques side by side.

Supportive Partner: Yuta understands the weight of carrying burdens, and he'll always be there to support you through yours. Whether it's helping you overcome your fears or chasing your dreams, he'll be your biggest cheerleader every step of the way.

Quiet Moments: While Yuta enjoys thrilling adventures, he also cherishes quiet moments spent together. Whether it's sitting together under the stars, taking a leisurely stroll through a park, or simply cuddling up together on the couch, he treasures these peaceful moments with you.

Unwavering Loyalty: Once Yuta commits to a relationship, he's in it for the long haul. You can always count on his unwavering loyalty and dedication, knowing that he'll stand by your side through thick and thin.

Surprises: Yuta might not always be the most vocal about his feelings, but he shows his love in thoughtful gestures and surprises. Whether it's leaving little notes for you to find or planning spontaneous weekend getaways, he's always finding ways to make you feel special.

Growing Together: Yuta believes in growing and evolving together as a couple. He's open to communication and compromise, always striving to strengthen your bond and build a future together filled with love and happiness.

Drabble: As you sit together in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across the walls, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Yuta's arm is draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you both watch a suspenseful horror movie. Despite the tension on the screen, you feel safe and secure in his embrace.

Every now and then, Yuta steals a glance at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You catch his gaze and share a smile, a silent exchange that speaks volumes. In moments like these, words seem unnecessary. It's the quiet comfort of being together that matters most.

As the movie reaches its climax, you find yourself instinctively leaning into Yuta, seeking solace in his presence. He tightens his hold around you, offering silent reassurance. And in that simple gesture, you realize how lucky you are to have him by your side.

Yuji Itadori

Food Lover: Yuji has a huge appetite and loves trying different foods. He'd enjoy taking you to his favourite food spots and would always be open to trying new cuisines together. Expect lots of foodie adventures and maybe even some friendly competitions to see who can finish their meal first! (Spoiler alert: it's never you unless he lets you win)

Supportive Partner: Despite his tough exterior, Yuji is incredibly caring and supportive. He'd always be there for you, whether you need someone to listen to your problems or just want a shoulder to lean on. He's a great listener and would go out of his way to make you feel loved and supported.

Training Buddies: Yuji takes his training seriously, and he'd love having you by his side as his training partner. Whether it's hitting the gym, going for runs, or practicing martial arts together, you'd both push each other to become stronger physically and mentally.

Goofy and Playful: Yuji has a playful side and loves goofing around. He'd enjoy teasing you in a lighthearted way and would always be up for silly antics and inside jokes. His infectious laughter and cheerful personality would make every moment spent together full of joy and laughter.

Protective Nature: As a Jujutsu Sorcerer, Yuji has a strong sense of justice and a desire to protect others. He'd prioritize your safety above all else and would do whatever it takes to keep you out of harm's way. Knowing that he's always looking out for you would make you feel safe and cherished.

Heart of Gold: Despite facing many hardships in his life, Yuji remains kind-hearted and optimistic. He'd always see the best in you and would love you unconditionally. His sincerity and warmth would melt your heart, and being with him would make you feel truly cherished and valued.

Drabble: As you stroll through the bustling streets, Yuji's hand finds yours, fingers intertwining naturally. His infectious energy radiates, filling the air with excitement.

"You hungry?" he grins, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Without waiting for an answer, he leads you to a cozy ramen joint he's been raving about. Inside, the aroma of savory broth and spices envelops you, and you can't help but smile at Yuji's enthusiasm.

As you slurp noodles and share laughs, you realize how effortless it feels to be with him. His presence is comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold day. You find yourself drawn to his kindness, his unwavering optimism.

Later, as the sun sets and the city lights twinkle like stars, Yuji takes your hand again, his touch gentle yet reassuring. In this moment, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that wherever life takes you, Yuji will be there, holding your hand every step of the way.

Megumi Fushiguro

Reserved Affection: Megumi might not always be the most expressive verbally, but he shows his affection through small, subtle gestures. Expect random acts of kindness like making you tea or remembering your favorite snacks.

Quiet Understanding: He's a great listener. Megumi may not always offer advice right away, but he'll listen intently to whatever is on your mind, and when he does speak, it's often profound and thoughtful.

Adventurous Spirit: Despite his serious demeanor, Megumi enjoys exploring new places and trying new things. He might surprise you with impromptu trips to quaint cafes or hiking trails on weekends.

Protective Nature: Megumi takes his role as your partner seriously and will go to great lengths to ensure your safety and well-being. He might not show it overtly, but he's always watching out for you.

Shared Interests: He appreciates having common interests but also respects your individuality. Whether it's a shared love for animals, literature, or martial arts, he enjoys bonding over mutual passions.

Balanced Independence: Megumi values his independence and understands the importance of giving you space to grow and pursue your own interests. He's supportive and encouraging of your personal goals and aspirations.

Trust and Loyalty: Once you earn Megumi's trust, he's fiercely loyal. He values honesty and integrity in a relationship and expects the same in return.

Emotional Depths: While Megumi may appear stoic on the surface, he has deep emotional complexities. He's not afraid to open up to you about his fears, dreams, and vulnerabilities, trusting you with his innermost thoughts.

Comfortable Silence: Sometimes, the most comfortable moments with Megumi are the ones spent in silence, just enjoying each other's presence without the need for constant conversation.

Slow-Burning Romance: Megumi's love is steady and enduring. It may take time for him to fully express his feelings, but when he does, it's genuine and unwavering. He's in it for the long haul.

Drabble: You stand beside Megumi Fushiguro, his quiet presence both comforting and intimidating. The sun sets, casting a golden glow over his dark hair and serious eyes. You try to catch his gaze, but he’s focused on the horizon, deep in thought. There’s a certain stillness to him, a calm that makes your heart race and your thoughts scatter.

“Megumi,” you say softly, almost afraid to break the silence. He turns to you, his expression softening just a bit. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. For a moment, he hesitates, then his hand closes around yours, warm and reassuring.

“Let’s stay a little longer,” he murmurs, his voice low but filled with something you can’t quite name. You nod, squeezing his hand gently. In this fleeting moment, under the fading light, everything feels right. You don’t need words to know that he feels it too.

Toge Inumaki

Communicative Gestures: Toge uses a mix of hand signals, notes, and texts to communicate with you, and over time, you become fluent in his unique language. A simple tap on your shoulder or a gentle squeeze of your hand speaks volumes.

Protective Streak: Despite his calm demeanor, Toge is incredibly protective of you. His cursed speech is a last resort, but he won’t hesitate to use it if you’re in danger. He’s always watching over you, ensuring you’re safe.

Quiet Comfort: You two enjoy a lot of quiet moments together. Whether it’s cuddling while watching a movie or sitting in a café reading books, Toge’s presence is soothing, and you find peace in these silent moments.

Thoughtful Surprises: Toge loves surprising you with little gifts and notes. He might leave a flower on your desk, a favorite snack in your bag, or a sweet note with a simple “Salmon” to brighten your day.

Cooking Together: He enjoys cooking with you, using his knowledge of food to whip up delicious meals. You bond over trying new recipes, and he loves seeing the smile on your face when you taste something new and delicious.

Supportive Partner: Toge is always supportive of your dreams and ambitions. He listens attentively when you talk about your goals and offers silent encouragement through his actions and expressions.

Playful Side: Though he often seems serious, Toge has a playful side that he shows only to you. He enjoys teasing you gently, making you laugh with his quirky sense of humor.

Shared Training: You train together, and Toge teaches you techniques to improve your skills. These sessions bring you closer, and you appreciate his patience and dedication.

Protective Hugs: Toge’s hugs are tight and reassuring. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a way that makes you feel safe and cherished. Drabble: You sit beside Toge Inumaki on the grassy hill overlooking the city. The sun is setting, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. Toge hands you a bento box he prepared, filled with your favorite foods. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief, and you can’t help but smile.

“Salmon,” he says softly, his way of telling you to enjoy the meal. You take a bite, savoring the flavors, and he watches you with a contented expression.

You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. He responds with a light squeeze back, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with unspoken words and shared understanding.

He pulls out a small notebook and writes something, then shows it to you: "Beautiful evening, beautiful you." Your heart swells at his words, and you lean in, resting your head on his shoulder.

Together, you watch as the stars begin to appear, one by one. In this quiet moment, you feel completely at peace, knowing that Toge is by your side, silently loving you in his own special way.

SPECIAL ADDITION: Maki Zenin

Training Together: Maki values strength and skill, so training sessions together become a regular part of your relationship. She pushes you to your limits, but also knows when to offer encouragement and praise.

Tough Love: Maki has a tough exterior, but she shows her affection through small acts of care. She might grumble while bandaging your wounds after a tough fight, but her touch is always gentle.

Competitive Streak: She’s fiercely competitive, and you often find yourselves in playful contests, whether it’s sparring, running races, or even silly games. The banter that ensues is always light-hearted and fun.

Supportive Partner: Maki is incredibly supportive of your goals and dreams. She understands the importance of fighting for what you believe in and stands by your side through thick and thin.

Protective Nature: Maki’s protective nature means she’s always watching out for you. She won’t tolerate anyone who disrespects or threatens you, and she’s quick to step in if needed.

Soft Moments: Despite her tough demeanor, Maki has a soft side that she shows only to you. Quiet moments together, like watching the stars or simply holding hands, are when she lets her guard down.

Cooking Together: Maki enjoys cooking with you, though she’s more practical than creative in the kitchen. She loves seeing you happy, especially when you’re enjoying a meal you made together.

Shared Interests: You bond over shared interests, whether it’s training, strategizing, or discussing the latest mission. Your conversations are always engaging and meaningful.

Genuine Laughter: Maki has a dry sense of humor, and you cherish the moments when you make her genuinely laugh. Her laughter is rare but precious, and it makes your heart swell with joy.

Affectionate Gestures: Maki isn’t big on public displays of affection, but in private, she’s more affectionate. She enjoys holding you close, resting her head on your shoulder, and stealing kisses when no one’s looking.

Drabble: You find yourself sparring with Maki under the dappled light filtering through the dojo’s windows. She moves with precision, her every step calculated, her eyes never leaving yours. You’re out of breath, but you push yourself to keep up, driven by her relentless determination.

“Come on, you can do better,” she taunts, a smirk playing on her lips. There’s a challenge in her gaze, but also an undeniable warmth.

You manage to land a hit, and her eyes widen with surprise before she grins, a rare and genuine smile. “That’s more like it,” she says, her voice softer now.

After the session, you both collapse onto the mats, breathless and laughing. Maki’s laughter is a sound you cherish, rare and beautiful. She reaches over, her hand finding yours, fingers intertwining. The callouses on her palm are a testament to her strength and dedication.

“You’re getting better,” she murmurs, her tone filled with pride. You squeeze her hand, feeling a rush of warmth at her words.

“Thanks to you,” you reply, meeting her gaze. There’s a moment of silence, charged with unspoken emotions, and then she leans in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

“Let’s keep pushing each other,” she says, determination and affection mingling in her eyes. You nod, knowing that with Maki by your side, you can face anything.

[irrevocableloves]

gold rush

cedric diggory x fem!hufflepuff!reader

taylor swift series: part one

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ masterlist ₊ ⊹

summary: everybody wants him, everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, but he loves you. (inspired by taylor swift’s gold rush!!!)

warnings: lil bit of angst, self-pity, mentions of alcohol, FLUFF <3

words: 1.8k

what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

cedric diggory. the prefect of hufflepuff. the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team. your best friend. but that was all he was... a friend.

the secret you bore that you had fallen in love with him along the way of your friendship had burned a hole into your heart, believing that deep down that he was never destined to fall for you.

sure, you'd hoped things would slowly work out in your favor. but in your eyes, it didn't seem very likely.

but to (almost) everyone else, his eyes were only on you.

everyone knew from the moment you and cedric were seen running around the halls together on the first day you were both sorted into hufflepuff that the two of you were completely enamored with one another. it could be seen in many other ways throughout the years.

cedric was a gentleman to everyone of course, but to you? he was an absolute angel. the way he'd listen to every word you had to say even if it was the most ridiculous, hold your books for you in between classes, skip his classes and take care of you if you were sick, just the way he looked at you… you swore the glint in his eyes had felt so much different. but you’d also considered that you’ve just gone completely mad…

you noticed his gestures of course, but you thought that was just cedric's nature. he was a hufflepuff wasn't he? well, he was practically the face of hufflepuff. at hogwarts, mostly everyone wasn't 100% of their house, but you were convinced cedric was the only true hufflepuff.

the girls hoarding around cedric never helped, but you never noticed the way he acted around them. uncomfortable. and not so much entertaining them, but more-so feeling guilty for them (and also because he's a a major pushover). 

with the tri-wizard competition and with cedric as a champion, the crowds piled around him. not just girls, but hufflepuffs who wanted to bash around in his glory.

you missed him. you didn't even want him to put his name in the stupid goblet to begin with, but you couldn’t bare the look of disappointment on his face when you didn’t approve of it. he thought the world of you. he wanted to do this for you, to prove that he could finally make the house you shared worthy of the limelight, to make him worth of you…. but you didn’t know that yet.

but now, every chance you had to spend with him was always ruined by the crowds stealing him away. everyday for a week since then he’d been pulled away from you. his usual spot next to you in the great hall remained empty and no one else had come to claim it, your friends knowing it was his spot. well other people tried… like when ernie didn’t make it time to be cedric’s little side-kick, he’d try to squeeze himself in beside you, but everyone hollered him off when you didn’t have the heart to.

you’d seen cedric make the effort. every single time he did, but he would be pulled away by his growing posse. sometimes you’d just wish you were able to scream, yell, or even simply ask him to stay loud enough to be heard over the boys and their banter, but alas, it never worked in your favor. you also wished that he would tell his friends that he wanted to stay back and just have at least one second with you. just one conversation. but every time he managed to get out a word of retort, his cheeks had gone so red and his voice in a fit of stutters that he’d just let his growing group lead him elsewhere.

you noticed the girls. of course you did. how could you not?

it’s not like girls had never craved the attention of cedric diggory, but after his name shot out of goblet of fire, it’d almost been too much for you.

the girls, especially those from beauxbatons, stared and erupted giggles every time he’d passed by and sent glares at you whenever he’d try and stop to talk to you, but those were always quickly interrupted by his herd of new friends. even anthony, his bestest friend, had grown tired of the crowds and relinquished back to his normal spot the great hall, matching your sighs whenever you’d hear the crowd boast over him.

one night, when you had just managed to finish hours worth of work on a history of magic paper, once you were satisfied, you let yourself bury into the covers of your bed. it was a friday night and there was a party in the hufflepuff common room to celebrate cedric once again, but you were exhausted. you’d purposefully planned to be cooped up in your room all night while the rest of your school mates partied away. no one would miss me surely.

knock knock.

you were tempted to just lay there, pretend you were asleep in hopes they would leave you to your solitude, but the fits of knocks didn’t stop and they soon turned to mutters that would make your heart almost stop completely.

“y/n? y/n/n? you awake?” cedric. even in his slightly drunken state, he was soft-spoken, only gently knocking and whispering in case you hadn’t been awake.

any other time, you would’ve gotten up immediately. but after this week, you were hesitant. it wasn’t his fault. really, it wasn’t. you couldn’t help the built up insecurities and the fact that cedric didn’t have time for you anymore. he always did before, but this time, there was just too much in the way, too many people watching his every move and wanting every bit of attention just as you did.

just as you were sure he’d left, you heard a soft huff and an odd noise hitting your door.

when you finally made your way to open the door, you slid it open gently, seeing cedric leaning up against it, sliding alongside it while you cracked it open.

you gasped at the site, grabbing cedric’s hand with the two of yours and hauling him up. “ced?” you grunted, struggling as you pulled him. “why are you here?”

“wanted to see you.” his cheeks were flushed red. he’d been drinking. not quite a lot. you knew when he’d gotten to his breaking point. right now, he’d only had a couple shots in fire whiskey him, otherwise he would’ve been completely knocked out and unintelligible. “why didn’t you come down?”

his speech was hardly slurred, he just seemed really tired.

“um…” the paper excuse sounded lame. were you really holing yourself up in your dorm all because a boy hadn’t given you his undivided attention? that excuse would never hear the light of day, but even then, you knew it was pathetic. “was tired…” now that was even more pathetic.

you sat over on your four poster bed and he followed in suit, but instead of sitting, he fiddled with the curtains, as if he’d seemed more interested in the velvet fabric than you. no. he was distracting himself. he was just as nervous as you were.

your eyes went to his, then to your twiddling hands. a moment of silence had aired throughout your dorm. then you felt a dip on your bed.

“y/n/n ‘m sorry.” you looked up, his cheeks reaching even deeper level of pink. once your eyes met his, he was a stuttering mess. “it’s just—the tournament. i-i know you didn’t want me doing it and-and i don’t know i didn’t think i’d really get picked you know? then…” he made an explosion sound with his mouth and you struggled not to stifle up a giggle. you loved when he was so nervous that he just rambled on to no end and you didn’t dare to stop him just yet.

he continued on, “and i just got caught up in it? like i’d won a quidditch match, but times a hundred. maybe a thousand? and-and i didn’t want to disappoint anyone… even if the crowds are a lot. overwhelms me a bit… just wanted to hang out with you.” you looked up at him, debating whether to speak up yet. you didn’t.

“merlin, i feel horrible…” he got up from your bed and started pacing around your room. “you didn’t even want me to put my name in that cup to begin with, but my dad… he’d sounded so proud in his letter when i told him about it. i couldn’t let him down. but then you… i shouldn’t have put in.”

he continued on, “i just thought… that perhaps… i could make your proud. you always talk about how hufflepuff gets no recognition.”

me? but why?

“and i know that you didn’t even want me entering the stupid thing in the first place… but i didn’t wanna let you down.” he huffed, finally sitting back down, his fingers still fidgeting.

“you could never do that.” you simply said. it was true. there was nothing he could do that would ever disappoint you. it was quite infuriating.

“i feel like i-i already have.” that’s when you placed your hand on his, grasping his fingers to stop his nerves.

“it’s not your fault.” it really wasn’t. but you struggled to find the words as to why as you found as fingers playing with your own.

“it is. the crowds… i wanted to tell them to shove off, but i just didn’t wanna let anyone down. it’s stupid…” one of his hands found its way to his hair, tending to one of his nasty habits. once he nervously pulled at his hair and squinted his eyes shut, you finally found the words.

“it’s my fault too.” you said, he shook his head in defense. “no. i mean… i know how overwhelmed you get and i feel terrible for not realizing that soon enough. look at you! you’re a mess and i-i wish i could’ve been there. but the crowd and the people and i just-i just thought..” you felt even embarrassed to say it out loud. “you didn’t need me anymore.” you finally let out.

you could feel his eyes on you. that’s when he used his other hand to lift up your chin, bringing your wandering eyes up to his.

“i’ll always need you. look at where i’m at without you.” he chuckled, his cheeks flushing an even brighter red.

“yeah… drunk and crawling up the girl’s dormitory stairs.” you giggled. “how’d you even manage the counter-spell?”

his eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion on his face. “i don’t quite remember…?”

“you’re not even that drunk!”

“and how do you know that?” he challenged.

“well, first of all, you managed to make it all the way up here. and second, you’re not completely incoherent.”

“yeah…” he admitted. “party’s no fun without you. i’d much rather stay here with you.” your cheeks reddened.

“well, then stay. i’ll make you a tea.” you were surprised you didn’t make a complete mess of your words.

you swiftly got up off your bed, grabbing a mug from your shelf and then a kettle, using aguamenti and then a simple water-heating charm afterwards.

“chamomile and honey?”

a/n: anyone up for a part two???? he was a lil drunk so i didn’t feel comfortable about any confessions and kissing </3 BUT I DO HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE SOOO !!!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mystifiedgrace @ladybirdbeetle7 @celi-xxmoon (i don’t rmr how many of u wanted to be tagged for cedric </3)

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

[sungbeam]

𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨!

nonidol!jung wooyoung x f!reader

the one where you're stuck in denial and wooyoung's determined to not be stuck in the friend zone.

7.7k words, fluff, f2l, they've kinda got a banter thing going on, he's in a frat cuz i said so, college au, swearing, kissing, mentions of alcohol and food, pining, obliviousness, jealousy/insecurity if you squint...? (sorry mark), barely proofread, overall pretty wholesome

a/n: okay... wooyo brainrot going hard lately, but anyways, hope u enjoy <3

The horizon glittered like a sea of molten gold when you stepped onto the sandy shores of the beach. Seagulls squawked overhead, riding the setting sky like your friends currently in the surf. You smiled to yourself, inhaling the briny air and slipping the shades off your nose and up onto your head. Your sandals hung limp in your hand as grains of sand embedded themselves into the soles of your bare feet while you jogged down the hill toward the bonfire and crowd of people.

The last week of summer before the fall semester brought your friends to convince you to come to their last bonfire at the beach. It wasn't difficult to persuade you.

“Oy, Yn! Head's up!"

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped up. Sandals fell from your hand as they came up to grab the frisbee out of the sky. It was plastic and blue, with scratches engraved into its surface from thorough use.

Hoots of approval erupted from further down the bank. "Nice catch!" Yeonjun praised as he jogged to meet you in the middle. A light blue Hawaiian shirt hung loose off his lean frame, unbuttoned to display the glorious, toned muscles of his chest.

You grinned, handing him the frisbee before picking your sandals back up. The two of you walked together back towards the group. "Thanks. How're you, Jun?"

He pulled you into a brief, yet affectionate side hug. "I'm great! You?"

"Same here." You had been itching for an outing—and dreading the first day back to class—so this would be good for you. “Who's here today?”

“Ah, y'know, the usuals.” He grinned at you then, sending you a teasing wink. “Your lover boy's here for sure. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”

Your skin warmed at the playful comment and you were failing to pretend it was just because it was hot out here. You rolled your eyes. “He is not my lover boy.”

“Based on the fact you knew who I was talking about though,” he drawled with a singsong tone. He let out a loud guffaw at your less than gruntled expression. “You know, he ditched his frat's annual pool party to be here.”

“That's his prerogative—I don't know how that relates to me,” you said with your palms raised up helplessly.

As you turned around to walk in front of him, Yeonjun wrinkled his nose with a grin. “It's cute when you're in denial.”

You scoffed, backpedaling in the opposite direction to where Changbin was hollering for him to hurry up with the frisbee. “Denial, as if.”

“Whatever you say, Cher,” he snickered, then raised his hand up in goodbye to jog across the sands to the game of frisbee.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. The sun glared in your eyes as you trudged through the sand toward the sounds of your other friends hollering at you from the barbeque and speaker system set up. You flicked your shades back over your eyes, an easy smile coming to your face. “Hi everyone! Smells delicious over here.”

Chan was stationed at the small, portable barbeque with a bottle of beer in his hand. He smiled as you neared, digging his hand into the cooler beside him to pass you a fresh bottle of hard lemonade. “You're right on time, Yn. Dinner is almost ready.”

“I do believe I have impeccable timing,” you mused, thanking him while accepting the bottle. You dropped your sandals to the sand by your feet so you could free your hands and twist the bottle cap off.

“So glad you could make it, Yn!” Lia chimed in from her spot beneath the beach tent. She and Chaeryeong were lying on their stomachs with books splayed out before them for a light beach read.

“Hey guys! Glad I could make it, too—”

“Oh my god, is that Yn Ln?”

Your head whipped around in the direction of the new voice, and you watched as Felix trudged up the sandy bank with his surfboard under his arm, his free hand brushing back his strands of damp hair.

“Felix Lee, you've been chickening out on me all summer.”

He gave a lazy smile back at you as the two of you clasped hands in greeting, his being cold and wet from the waves and yours dry and gritty with sand. “You say that like you haven't been working all summer. Anyways, there's someone who's been dying to see you even more than me.”

You could spot the impish mischief in the blond's eyes from a mile away. “I feel like everyone's been telling me the same thing, but I haven't seen Wooyoung anywhere.”

“First time she says my name, and it's not even to my face,” came a dramatic sigh from somewhere behind you.

The organ in your chest kicked into action and you turned to face the newcomer bounding toward the group from up the hill where the parking lot was. He was clad in a pair of board shorts and a tank top, his skin glowing in the golden afternoon light. “Speak of the Devil,” you jested, poking your tongue into your cheek as you smiled.

Jung Wooyoung peered at you from over the rim of his sunglasses as they slipped down the slope of his nose, then pushed them up to nestle in his locks of dark brown hair. “That nickname's a new one.”

“It's an expression, Jung,” you said, eyebrow arched.

He gave yet another melodramatic sigh. “And she's back to the last name-calling. Would it kill you to try a 'sweetheart’ or a 'darling’ one of these days?”

“I think Yn would rather go into cardiac arrest before calling you by your first name, mate,” Felix gave a warm laugh as he sidled up beside his friend, propping his arm up onto Wooyoung's shoulder.

You lifted your bottle of lemonade in salute. “Lix, you are not wrong. Where've you been anyways, Jung?”

“Did you hear that? She cares about my whereabouts,” he gasped in giddy delight, palm over his mouth as if he and Felix were co conspirators. “I'll have you know, Ln, that Hyunjin and I were scouting for ice cream carts, but he had a phone call to take so I came back here.”

You gave a pleasant hum, knocking back a sip of the spiked lemonade. “An ice cream cart? A man after my own heart.”

“Took you that long to notice?”

You weren't given much time to ponder on that statement before everyone's attention turned to Chan, who announced that it was finally time to eat. By some miraculous force of nature, Hyunjin heard Chan's call, too, and came barreling down the hill toward base camp a few moments later. The frisbee was laid to rest, the books were marked for later, and the bonfire was set ablaze.

With delicious eats and favored company, the lot of you gathered around with one another to have dinner and watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon line. It was the perfect cap to a long and warm summer.

A few hours later, when the sun had only just disappeared from view to leave the sky a lingering shade of hazy orange, you settled beside Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeonjun on one side of the fire pit while Chan sat on his stool with a ukulele he kept in his backseat. (You were pretty sure that ukulele lived in his backseat at this rate. Once, you saw him buckle the thing with its own seatbelt. To each their own, you supposed.)

“So Wooyoung-ah,” drawled Changbin from his perch beside Hyunjin, as the two of them plucked chips out of the same bag, “did Hongjoong say if movie night was confirmed for next Friday?”

All eyes flickered over to Wooyoung expectantly, and you found yourself meeting his gaze as his own flitted from your eyes and back to Changbin. “I’m pretty sure we're still on for Friday, yeah. All of you better be there,” he said pointedly, his finger drawing over the group.

“What time is it again?” Yeonjun asked as he shoved a marshmallow into his cheek. You smiled to yourself and poked at it, making him send an adorable scowl your way.

Wooyoung pursed his lips. “Ah… it should start around nine o'clock. But make sure you guys text me first so I can let you in. Sometimes the pledges don't care to ask before collecting fees at the door.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement resounded from around the group. Each one of you had your own experience with getting hassled for entry fee at the ATZ fraternity door before Wooyoung or one of his frat brothers came to collect you. You remembered Felix once joking about having all of your names on a list or something.

“Ln, you're coming, aren't you?” Wooyoung nodded at you from across the bonfire. He leaned his elbows onto his knees, his fine features illuminated by the fires.

Your pulse skipped. “Hm? Oh, uhm, yeah I'm pretty sure.”

A smile curled onto his lips. “Good.”

From beside you, Yeonjun lightly smacked the back of his hand against your shoulder. “Hey, you should totally invite that guy from our Econ class—y’know from last quarter—?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Mark?”

“Who's Mark?” The question Wooyoung posed was innocent, but you couldn't help hyperfixate on the way he tilted his head and pressed his lips together.

And for some reason, you wanted to clear this up. “Mark from Econ,” you said. “He, Jun, and I used to sit with each other during class. I dunno if he'd wanna come with…” You somewhat kept in touch with Mark over the summer, but it wasn't like the two of you hung out solo or anything.

Yeonjun shoved another marshmallow into his mouth, but still spoke through it, “Mawk's cool doe. I fink he iked you.”

“Ooh, someone had a crush on you, Yn?” Hyunjin snickered.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “He did not have a crush on me; he was just nice.”

“You should invite him anyway!” Chaeryeong piped up as she leaned over you and Lia to steal a marshmallow from Yeonjun's bag. The owner of said bag watched the stolen marshmallow get swallowed whole with wide eyes. “More the merrier.”

“As long as Woo lets him in,” Felix muttered into his plastic cup so his words were slightly muffled. You didn't hear what he said, but you saw Wooyoung whack him and induce a Felix-standard fairy giggle.

You reached into Yeonjun's marshmallow bag, pretending he wasn't gawking at you with even wider eyes to guilt you into not taking his precious. “Okay, I will ask, but no promises.”

“Who the fuck is Mark from Econ?”

San barely glanced up from what he was reading and he flipped the page to the tune of Wooyoung's rapid pacing of their shared room. “He's from Econ, I'm guessing.”

Wooyoung stopped in the middle of the open space between their beds, hands braced on their hips. He had just gotten home from the bonfire after having dropped off Hyunjin, Yeonjun, and Changbin at their apartment. When he'd arrived home to the ATZ fraternity on Greek Row, he had not been surprised to find nearly everyone still awake, even at one in the morning.

San, as always, had his nose buried in a bout of nightly reading. He claimed it helped him sleep better, but how could it if he sometimes stayed up until five in the morning because he was so invested?

“That's very helpful, thanks,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

His friend spared him a glance from over the book's edge. Then after one peak at his sorry state, San sighed and stuck an old receipt into the book to mark it for later. “Did they mention a last name? Mark who?”

Wooyoung waved his hand around. “Agh, I dunno. Yeonjun said in the car ride home something about a Mark Lee…”

San blinked, head tilting to the side in thought. “Mark Lee? Like the Mark Lee from NCT down the street?”

For a moment, Wooyoung only stared with furrowed brows, allowing the information presented to process through his brain. When it hit him, it was clear as day. He groaned, dragging his palms down his face as he plopped down on the edge of his bed. “We can't let him into Friday's movie night, Sannie.”

“And why not? He's a nice dude.”

“That is exactly why we can't let him in!” At the way San's face arranged itself into the epitome of confusion, Wooyoung waved his hands around in a manic craze. “If he gets cozy with Yn, my chances are ruined.”

San gave up; he picked up his book again. “Sounds like a skill issue.”

“Movie night? Dark setting? Sharing blankets? Fairy lights overhead?” Wooyoung flopped onto his back and glared at the ceiling. It was the perfect way to get closer to you if he could somehow make it not weird since you were almost always with one of your other friends. This could arguably be his big breakthrough with you; it had all of the makings of a romantic night… as long as everything went right.

He just needed to be absolutely sure that your feelings and his feelings were on the same page.

San sighed, the book flopping onto his lap. “Why can't you just—I don't know—insert yourself?” He made a motion with his arm, his dimples digging into his cheeks as he pressed his lips together in a deadpan, arm jutting straightforward. “Insert. Like… insert.”

Wooyoung craned his head up from his position. “Like—insert?”

“Insert,” San affirmed. “She sits down, and you sit down next to her before anyone else can. Easy.”

“So you want me to be a parasite?”

San scoffed and fixed Wooyoung with a pointed look. “If you're not going to tell her to her face that you like her—”

“Parasitism, it is!”

As the days grew closer to the ATZ frat's annual fall movie night, you had to admit that you might have been severely procrastinating on extending an invitation to Mark. Mark was, by all counts, a nice guy. He was a good guy, in fact. But it wasn't like the two of you were buddy-buddy with each other, as Yeonjun made it sound like to everyone else. It was the equivalent of your mom asking you to invite your neighbor to your birthday party—they were nice enough, but you weren't close enough to ensure this wouldn't be awkward.

Plus, you couldn't get this sticky feeling out of the back of your mind about Yeonjun claiming Mark liked you. There was no problem, per se, with a guy liking you. It was just that… you weren't interested in him like that. You also didn't want other people thinking that you were interested in him either, and getting the wrong idea.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren't interested in anyone at the moment, but you knew, deep in your heart of hearts, that wasn't true. You just didn't want to admit it. (A tragedy, indeed.)

When the first Friday night of the university term rolled around, you and your friends pulled up outside the ATZ frat house without Mark Lee. You'd admitted to them that it was awkward, so the subject was easily brushed away. There was nothing they could do about it now, anyway.

When they strolled up to the entryway, Yeonjun told the pledges at the front that they were with Wooyoung. As per protocol, they forced you all to wait outside until Wooyoung could get there from wherever he was within the house. You could hear the music thumping from the backyard, along with chatter and laughter, all from people waiting for the movie night to start.

You shivered as you hugged your arms around your body, a cool autumn breeze blowing past. “Damn, I should've brought a jacket,” you laughed, hopping around from foot to foot to stay warm. Or maybe you should've worn a sweater rather than a T-shirt over your pajama shorts.

Lia perked up. “Oh! I think I have o—”

Felix's eyes widened as he interjected, “No, you don't!”

Everyone passed Felix a strange look, especially you and Lia. Curiously, you watched as Felix seemingly communicated with Lia in silent, urgent facial expressions before smiling at you like his regular, ray-of-sunshine self.

You blinked. What in the world…?

Lia turned back toward you with an apologetic wince on her face. “I think I took my jacket out of the backseat before I left the house. Sorry, Yn.”

“Oh, that's okay,” you assured her. “I'll, uh, probably steal Chan's blanket or something once we get settled.”

Wooyoung appeared at the door moments later, a lollipop stick between his teeth and a cozy dark blue hoodie on his frame. Like many others here tonight, he was in a pair of pajama pants and fluffy slippers. “Hey guys! Come on in.”

Thankful for the excellent timing, you all slipped inside the front doors of the frat to get to the backyard. The movie night was usually held in the backyard space just because it could hold more people. The movie was then projected against the back of the house with an old projector that was apparently passed down from generation to generation of the frat. There was oftentimes a table to the side that was stocked with snacks and booze for all those attending.

Wooyoung led the group of you out into the backyard, specifically to a spot with a decent view, already laid out with picnic blankets and regular blankets. “Tada!” He exclaimed with jazz hands, catching the amused gaze of others nearby. “I reserved a spot for all of us!”

“Without permission!” Somebody—you recognized Yunho's teasing grin from over by the snack table—yelled.

“Seonghwa hyung said I could!” Wooyoung shot back in proper little sibling fashion. He stuck one of his hands into his pockets and took his lollipop out. “Anyways, help yourselves!”

“This is really cool of you, dude,” Changbin said as he bumped Wooyoung's fist and settled on one corner of the setup.

Chan hobbled over toward Changbin. “Yeah, man. We really appreciate it.”

You murmured your own thanks to Wooyoung as you passed by him to decide on where to sit.

His eyes flickered over your form, noting the way you used your palms to keep your arms warm. “Hey, Ln.”

“Jung,” you mused back.

“You didn't bring a jacket?” He asked incredulously. “It's gonna get colder tonight.”

Sheepishness washed over you and you scratched your head with an embarrassed smile. “I'll be fine under the blankets.”

He shook his head, dissatisfaction clear on his face, as he stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and began shouldering off his jacket.

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing. “Hey, wait—I’ll be fine—”

Wooyoung held out the jacket to you, eyebrows lifting in silent communication. 'Put it on.’

You pursed your lips and considered it for a moment. You knew that he was right and it was going to get colder later tonight. You could only bring the blanket up so far… Slowly, you slipped into it with his help, and your upper body was immediately grateful for the warmth.

Wooyoung spun you around to face him again, swiftly reaching for the zipper at the bottom to zip you up.

“Oh, you don't have to—” You shut up with one look from him. You could feel your skin begin to warm, not just because of the residual heat from Wooyoung's body heat on the jacket. You weren't exactly used to this, but you also weren't going to complain. This article of clothing smelled sinfully good—was that his cologne or how he always smelled?

When you were all zipped up, his lips pressed into a content smile. “I'm gonna go grab another jacket. I'll be right back,” he said, throwing a thumb back in the direction of the house.

Based on the fact he was only wearing a tank top underneath the jacket you now wore, you nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course,” you stammered. “Thanks.”

His smile widened. “No problem, Yn. You look good in it.”

You didn't get another word in because he was darting across the backyard and disappearing inside the house before you could. You were sure you looked as flustered as you felt, and you slowly sank onto the blanket set up beside Chaeryeong and Lia.

From down the line, you could feel your friends’ eyes and wagging brows.

“Don't say anything,” you said to them, pulling your knees to your chest and pretending you weren't in heaven from how nice the jacket felt and smelled. (Oh god, were you being weird about this?)

A snort from Hyunjin.

Felix giggled. “Not a single word.”

By the time Wooyoung returned, Hongjoong was beginning to fire up the movie of choice tonight (Parasite—how fitting) and the backyard had been substantially populated.

Though there was no Mark Lee tonight to be a paradise about, Wooyoung settled on the other side of Chaeryeong who was right beside you. There was a bucket of popcorn per every three or so of you. You dipped into the bucket closest to you, which was the one in front of Chaeryeong.

At some point during the movie, Chaeryeong raised her head from where she was resting against your shoulder and searched the area around you. “Hey,” she whispered to you, “my friend from the Delta sorority is over there and I'm gonna go say hi.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

As she clambered to her feet, you met Wooyoung's eyes from her other side. He had tugged his own hood over his head, so only his bangs hung out of it. He nodded toward Chaeryeong in question: ‘Where’s she going?’

“Just a friend,” you answered quietly.

From your other side, you heard Lia make a small gasping sound. “Ooh, I'm gonna say hi, too!”

When both of them had cleared out, you craned your head around to see if you recognized the Delta they went to greet. You did not, and so you stayed put.

It didn't take long for you to realize that you were pretty sure Lia and Chaeryeong were over there for much more than a hello, which was completely fine—you were simply going to hog all of their blanket space—

A throat cleared on your left side, and you watched Wooyoung take the shared popcorn bucket and scoot over into where Chaeryeong was sitting next to you. “So we can reach easier,” he reasoned, shoveling a handful of buttered kernels into his mouth.

You couldn't and didn't argue with that. Though, you were unsure of how fast your heart was beating now that you and he were shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg.

But you turned your attention back to the movie because obviously there was nothing wrong with this. There was absolutely nothing about sitting this close to Wooyoung that was making you flustered—

You jolted when your hand touched his in the popcorn bucket, both of you having blindly reached in.

Your eyes met in the dark again, and you hoped he couldn't see just how affected you were by the touch. “Sorry,” you whispered, withdrawing your hand swiftly.

“No, it's okay,” he murmured back, a small lift in the corner of his lips. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

When the movie reached its inevitable conclusion, it was nearing midnight. Though the projector was turned off, there were plenty of people still lingering to chat and drink. You wiped your hands on a napkin and smeared on a dollop of hand sanitizer that Chan usually kept in his pocket. (The crazy man was always prepared.)

Lia and Chaeryeong eventually came back to the group, but you and Wooyoung scooted over so they could sit next to each other on your right. Your arm was still pressed to his arm, and you still kept his jacket on. It had done a brilliant job at keeping you warm tonight; you were dreading parting with it.

“Can we help you guys clean up or anything?” You asked him as you passed him Chan's bottle of hand sanitizer to use.

He hummed, “Uh, I think we should be okay. We'll probably just end up leaving half of it out to clean up in the morning anyway.”

You nodded, taking the hand sanitizer back from him so you could pass it down the assembly line to Chan.

“Oh, by the way,” Wooyoung piped up. “Whatever happened to that Mark guy you were gonna invite?”

You paused, cupping the back of your neck. “Ah… yeah, I didn't actually invite him,” you admitted. “I just thought it would be awkward 'cause we're not really that close.”

He bobbed his head in understanding. “I see, I see. So what Yeonjun said about him…?”

“Your first mistake was listening to Yeonjun.”

Two people down, you heard a squawk of indignation. “Hey! I heard that!”

A chuckle rang out amongst your group. Changbin and Chan's end of the blanket mass suddenly began standing up, the former of which was propping up a half-conscious Felix, citing needs to get the blond to bed. The rest of you wholeheartedly agreed and joined them, empty popcorn buckets in hand to deposit back at the snack table.

As soon as your bare legs hit the cold night air, you gazed forlornly at the blanket you'd been using before. “Jung, let me give you back your jacket,” you said, catching his attention before he wandered off.

But instead of waiting for you to take off the garment, he placed a hand over yours to stop you from unzipping it. “Keep it,” he said.

“Keep it?” You parroted back dumbly.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah, it'll keep you warm until you get home.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Was he always this pretty? Or was it just the fairy lights that were turned on overhead? You swallowed, your lips curling into a small smile back. “Oh okay—thanks. I'll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled and reached over to pat your head. The action made a jolt of warmth run down your spine from your head to your toes. Maybe you were just tired.

Saturday night, you found yourself jostling around in the crowd of all the other late night snackers at the fast food chain a few blocks from the stadium. The first college football game of the season had just ended, and all of your friends who had gone agreed to get a bite to eat afterward. It seemed, however, that nearly everyone else at the game had the same idea.

The establishment was packed to the brim, at least the ordering area was. Your friends had gone outside to score one of the picnic benches for your group, while you, Changbin, and Felix were stuck here to order. (It was all because the three of you sorely lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, and now your wallet would pay, quite literally.) Servers behind the counter hollered out order numbers, and plastic trays of burgers, fries, milkshakes, and grease passed hands.

Your mouth was already watering; cheering and screaming for three hours was a good way to make yourself famished. “Do we have everyone's orders?” You asked your friends, sticking your head in the open space between their shoulders.

Changbin flashed you the group text. “If it's not here, they're starving.”

“Amen to that,” Felix grunted, shaking his bangs out of his eyes and scrolling through his social media fees. “I think Hyunjin and Yeonjun purposely ordered the triple cheeseburger and loaded fries to break our banks.”

“We need to watch that WikiHow video on winning rock, paper, scissors,” you said. The three of you sighed altogether—next time, you wouldn't rely on just luck to get you through something so high stakes.

“You guys look like we just lost the actual game,” mused a familiar voice behind you.

Wooyoung appeared at your side, elbow propped onto your shoulder, accompanied by a couple of his frat brothers, San and Jongho. Wooyoung had a university branded cap over his head with a pair of cherry red heart glasses seated up on the bill, a bit of school spirit in the form of black and red. “I see you lost rock, paper, scissors, Ln.”

You scowled. Of course he knew how you ended up here. After all, he was subjected to it whenever he hung out with your group of friends. “Do you wanna take over my share of the bill, Jung?”

“Do I get something in return?”

“I don't know, your jacket?”

He grinned. “Oh, so you weren't planning on just giving it back to me?”

“I will gladly keep it if you don't want it. She's in the dryer right now,” you shot back. At some point, your heart had kicked up in your chest again, perhaps at the proximity of Wooyoung to you. There wasn't much space in here as it was.

The line scooted up about two centimeters, and Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in amusement. “You’re washing it after wearing it once? Or maybe you've been wearing it for the past twelve hours and you're just not telling me.”

You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck. “It's called being courteous.”

“It's called wasting water,” he teased, the elbow on your shoulder shifting to an arm slung around both of your shoulders.

“Oh please. It's being washed with the rest of my clothes!” You exclaimed in your defense as you grew more flustered.

Something giddy lit up on his face as the group of you moved up closer to the register. “So that jacket's gonna smell like you? I might not ever wash it again, Ln.”

It was an unholy amount of time later that you, your friends, and the frat trio finally made it out of the stuffy fast food restaurant with your massive order. Instead of a picnic bench, however, it seemed that both your friends and Wooyoung's were exiled to the curb by the street. The sight was rather laughable—around fifteen or so people seated on the firelane like a line of abandoned ducklings.

Everyone practically swarmed the to-go bags that you and your friends deposited in the grass. You picked up one of the cartons of fries for yourself, standing just outside the circle that had formed.

Mingi was recalling one of the plays from tonight's game with vivid acting when you heard your name being called from down the road.

Curious, your eyes tracked the sound, only to see a group of fraternity guys making their way towards you from the direction of Greek Row. Among them, it was Mark Lee that you recognized first in a red bomber jacket and backwards cap. His cheeks were flushed and eyes twinkled like a pair of diamond earrings.

“YN LN! IS THAT YOU?” He giggled, and you just knew that the poor guy was drunk off his face.

One of his friends with a bunny-looking face grappled onto his arm with a groan. “Sorry! He was double-dared to take one too many shots by this bastard,” he said when they neared and cut a glare to one of the tall boys behind him. Said tall boy whistled, pretending not to hear him.

Yunho cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud holler. “Aye, N-City! Jungwoo, where the hell have you been, man?"

“It’s called the engineering program, bro,” the one you assumed to be Jungwoo grumbled. He hobbled over to where Yunho was seated in the circle and knocked his fist against the latter's. “Oh my god, can I steal a fry? That line over there looks awful.”

Mingi lifted his tray of fries up for Jungwoo to pluck a few.

Mark, with the supervision of his bunny friend, scuttled over toward you. “Fries sound so good, dude. Like bro. BRO. I am so hungry.” He giggled again as you extended your fries out to him in amusement. “Thanks, Yn. Do I still owe you for coffee that one time?” He slurred, shoving the slices of potato into his mouth.

You chuckled, offering his friend some fries, but was quietly rejected. “Coffee? That was like, once, Mark. Don't worry about it.”

“I know, but like—like, I keep thinking about it, y'know,” he confessed. In the streetlight, you could see his cherry red cheekbones… almost the color of Wooyoung's glas—what. Where did that thought come from?

Absent-mindedly, your eyes flickered across the circle to where you knew Wooyoung was seated with his brothers. To your surprise, you found him already staring your way.

“—it’d be cool to get coffee again sometime, and be friends! I almost took the next econ class in the series 'cause of you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, forcing yourself back to the people in front of you and being unable to suppress a giggle. You were touched by the sentiment, and frankly, relieved to hear that you and he were pretty much on the same page about being friends. “The next class in the series is kind of ass though, so I'm glad you aren't gonna have to suffer through it.”

“Aw, but we're all in this together!” He chirped.

His friend gave Mark a small pat on his arm. “We should get a move on before the crowds get worse.”

Mark's eyes widened and he gasped. “You're right, hyung!”

“See you, guys,” you said with a small wave. The two boys threw a similarly warm goodbye to you as they slipped past you and toward the jam-packed fast food joint you had braved just earlier.

Across the wide social circle, Wooyoung couldn't hear exactly what yours and Mark's conversation entailed because of all the chatter. Sue him for being caught staring at you, but he couldn't keep his eyes off you, as per usual. There was a familiar pang in his chest as he watched you bid Mark and Doyoung from the NCT fraternity goodbye, and he mindlessly finished off the tray of fries in front of him.

Although you technically implied to him last night that there was nothing between you and Mark, there was undoubtedly a part of him that still felt jittery at the thought.

There was a nudge against his arm. “Glare even harder, and Mark might wake up with a pair of holes in the back of his head.”

Wooyoung moved his scowl to San beside him, a snicker falling from his best friend's mouth. “I'm not glaring,” Wooyoung protested and reached for a napkin in the middle of the circle.

“Oh, right,” San drawled, “you're staring at Yn.”

“Yes, and?” He shot back. “What'd'you think they were talking about?” He could practically hear the sound of your giggles in his ears after Mark said something. Wooyoung didn't like the way that made his stomach churn—the fact that this other guy was making you laugh. Did he make you laugh like that? Did you look that radiant when you were with him? God, why did you have to be so gobsmackingly gorgeou—

San considered him for a moment as he chewed on the bite of his burger. “Why don't you ask her yourself?” He muttered with a vague gesture of his aioli-covered fingers, “I dunno, go offer to drive her home or something.”

“That's the first good idea I've heard all night.” Wooyoung hopped to his feet, a misshapen plan (of sorts) manifesting in his head. Hopefully it would work out better than the movie night one. (But by some metrics, he could consider movie night a success…)

San exhaled under his breath as his friend went to go find a trash can first. “Can't believe he actually went with that,” he said with a shake of his head. He could only hope now that his friend would finally put himself out of his misery.

Having finished your post-game snack, drowsiness was slowly seeping into your joints and the corners of your eyes. It was bound to be nearing midnight at this time, and with all of the excitement within the past two days, you were about ready to head back.

You swept your eyes over the group to gauge if any of your other friends looked about ready to go home, too, when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Wooyoung asked as he stood there, cap and glasses hanging from his hand while the other carded through his hair.

Well. “It's like you read my mind, Jung,” you mused. “Do you and your brothers not usually carpool though?”

“Eh, Hongjoong hyung brought the minivan.”

You didn't know why that comment made you laugh—perhaps it was the image of a bunch of ATZ frat members shoved into a soccer mom minivan with Hongjoong at its helm—but a laugh most definitely tumbled from your lips. The sound and sight reflected in Wooyoung's expression, a boyish grin coming to his face and reaching his eyes. “Alright, fine. As long as by taking me home, you aren't abandoning them on the streets.”

The two of you began walking side by side to where he would lead you back toward wherever his car was parked. “Nah,” he reassured you with a shake of his head. He took his cherry heart glasses and slid them up into his hair. “A nice walk home might keep them humble, y'know?”

“And who's to say you don't need humbling, Jung?” You joked.

A smirk curled up on his mouth like a cat's tail. “What? Are you going to humble me, Ln?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug to cover up the rapid pulse hammering away in your veins. “I could finesse your keys, you never know.”

He motioned to the left where his sedan was parked along the side of the street. “I'll have you know that you already have one of my keys,” he said as he rounded his car to reach the driver's seat.

You crinkled your brows together, your hand lingering on the door to the passenger's seat as he fished his keys out to unlock the car. “What key?”

“The key to my heart,” he winked, smile widening.

You glanced away, tongue jamming into your cheek to suppress your flustered smile, but by the sounds of Wooyoung's glee from the other side of the car, you were unsuccessful. “You tell that to all the girls?” You finally said when the car chirped and you slipped into the passenger's seat.

Your car doors slammed in tandem.

“Nope, that one's just for you,” he said, tossing his hat in the back and starting the engine.

The fluttery feeling in your chest was making it difficult for you to sit still. If you were so enraptured by his scent clinging to the fabric of his jacket, then his car must have been level two. Your body melted into the car seat, and you turned your head to watch the world pass through the window with a content expression on your face.

There had been something gnawing at you for a while now. You knew Wooyoung boasted a rather flirty personality; he had always been pretty outgoing and teasing ever since you met. There were so many signs that pointed to him liking you more than just a friend, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions. (Denial? What was that?)

Was this different from when Yeonjun suggested that Mark liked you? Well, yes. This was different because you… it was different because this was Wooyoung, not Mark. It was different because you were suddenly marinating on the idea of him liking you, and not dismissing it like you had with Mark.

You were growing giddy at the idea, in fact. And maybe that made you nervous.

A thought appeared in your head. “Oh, I guess it's a good thing you're taking me home, because now I can give you back your jacket.” For a moment, you deeply considered casually “forgetting” to return the garment, but your integrity won out.

You saw him glance over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Right, right. Good idea,” he murmured. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip then. “Hey, uhm, weird question.”

“Uh oh,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Yah, it's not an 'uh oh!’ I was just wondering what Mark came to talk to you about.”

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when he said he had a weird question.

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second. “You seem awfully interested in me and Mark,” you drawled, uncertain of where this was going.

“I mean—I know you said last night that you guys aren't that close,” he supplemented, tongue swiping over his lip as he turned the corner onto your street, “but he seemed pretty friendly tonight.”

“Mark’s always friendly,” you pointed out. Part of it was just so you could prod a little and figure out why Wooyoung was pursuing this.

“You're not wrong.”

Your head tilted to the side. “So?”

“So?”

You let out a small laugh. “Hey, Jung, what's going on? You're usually not so antsy about these things, especially not with me.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and your fingers drummed mindlessly against your thigh in anticipation.

Wooyoung glanced over at you again, his lips pressing together. He was entering your apartment complex street now and carefully pulled up along the curb outside. “I would argue that it's the complete opposite.”

“Huh?”

“You can't possibly think that this whole time I haven't been head over heels for you?” He blurted.

Even if the car had stopped, your heart rate most definitely hadn't.

At your loss for words, he killed the engine. “Like, you think I stare at you for fun? No, actually, I stare at you because I'm literally just so attracted to you, it's survival.”

You sucked in a breath. “Jung…”

“And you know, I try to be as obvious as I can, but maybe I'm not? And I'm—I’m trying to be as loud about my feelings as possible,” he continued on, adding in an accompaniment of sweeping hand gestures. “Without actually admitting to my feelings, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Jung. Jung, wait—”

“This wasn't supposed to turn into a ramble, but what I'm trying to say is—”

“Wooyoung.”

He screeched to a halt, eyes widened as if you'd just grown two heads.

Oh, you were so endeared by this man. In this snapshot of time, there was nothing other than utter adoration in your heart for him. “You were probably being very loud, but I'm also hard of hearing sometimes.”

“Extremely,” he agreed with his mouth pressed into a line.

“Hey!”

He broke into a grin that was soft at the corners and tender at the eyes. “Just so you know, I don't treat anyone else like you. You're probably the only person I will ever address by their last name as a term of endearment.”

You laughed, skin warming to the touch. “I'll admit—same here.” A jolt of electricity warmed down your spine at the admission.

“I can't persuade you to even try a 'honey’ or a ‘baby?’ Not even a 'sweetie pie?’”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe you'll unlock some of them as time goes on. It has to feel right.”

He leaned forward onto the center console, a small, happy sigh falling from his mouth. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I can deal with that.”

In reply, you twisted around in your seat to face him, your head leaned against the car seat. “Just so we're clear though…”

“I like you—I do.”

“Good.” Your lips curled into a smile. “I like you, too.”

In the low light of the car, the sky darkened and the only light coming from the streetlight a few cars away, you and Wooyoung shared a soft moment together. The thing that had been needling at the back of your mind was finally subsiding.

Swallowing, you reached forward to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his eyes seemed to shudder. “Yeonjun once called you my lover boy.”

“I'm pretty sure all of our friends knew how I felt,” he snorted.

You made a small gesture with your shoulder, wincing. “Except for me?”

“Except for you,” he sighed jokingly. “Utter pain. But you know what?”

“What's that?”

“I think I like being your lover boy.”

You slowly nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.” You couldn't help another smile as you rolled it over and over in your mind. Your lover boy, your lover boy, your lover boy… “My lover boy.”

Wooyoung pressed his palms together like he was praying, his hands touching his lips. “Give me the strength—I can't not kiss you after hearing that come out of your mouth.”

Your heart gave an aggressive palpitation. “Well… I wouldn't be opposed.”

“Hey, lover girl,” he said, mouth split open with a pretty grin, “can I kiss you?”

How could you refuse?

He leaned forward and cradled one side of your face with one hand so he could press his lips against your own. If there was any doubt left in your mind about how you felt for him, it was all dashed away once he kissed you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you met his gaze.

“I think,” he murmured, thumb drawing over your bottom lip, “I just fell for you all over again.

God, how could you compete with that line? You ducked your head, unabashedly flustered. He only cooed at your reaction and came forward to smack a long kiss to your cheek.

When it was determined that you would finally head up to your apartment for the evening, you reluctantly clambered out of his vehicle. He rolled down his window so he could drape himself out of it like a damsel in a tower, his eyes shaped like hearts.

“Is it safe to say that I can keep your jacket?” You jested, stopping in front of his window.

He huffed a laugh. “You know, I thought you'd never ask. But you'll have to trade me for something of yours.”

“Deal, Jung.” You were certain you could think of something.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed <3

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @synthwxve @atzhouse @kflixnet

[ode2rin]

Was it because he sometimes fail to call you due to opposite time zones? Or was it the frequent periods when he wasn't at home? Had the distance finally played its game in your relationship?

Out of all people, you were the last person Sae would have expected to betray him like this.

Yet, it happened. You blindsided him.

“I’m just three episodes ahead! Stop being so dramatic!” you protested from the other end of the couch.

Yes, that's the grave betrayal you've committed. Was it worth fighting over? Maybe. Was he being petty? Of course not. The act itself could be the equivalent of your partner lying to you. A literal crime, if he can say so himself. 

“We were supposed to watch it together,” he frowned, his eyes fixed on the Netflix series playing on the TV with its soft glow highlighting the contours of Sae's face as he continued to express his mock indignation. “Together.” He stressed every syllable, dragging out the pettiness, much to your annoyance.

And there you both were, caught in the crossfire of a relationship dispute sparked by the unspoken rules of synchronized streaming. 

Were there any rules in the first place? Well, according to Sae's book, there certainly were. Because, much to his denial, Sae loves your relationship’s traditions. One of them being this – the two of you wrapped in thick blankets with you curling up to his side and his hands fiddling with yours while you both spend the night away watching a show you mentioned in your call with him when he was away. 

Now, however, the two of you (mainly him) are faced with the big question of how to enjoy said tradition when you're already three episodes ahead.

“I apologized already,” you point out.

“You said sorry after saying oh yeah, I kind of watched it and shrugged. Talk about sincerity.” 

You bite back your laughter at his words. You knew your boyfriend had a great tendency to be dramatic, but he surprises you every time he pulls out a fit like this one. 

“And look, you’re even laughing.” he glares at you. “You find it so funny that you broke your promise to watch it with me, is that it?”

“Oh, come on! How did you even know that I already watched it?! I was acting pretty well!” you exclaimed at him while inching closer, trying to get close to where he’s seated. 

Five minutes before this whole theatrics, Sae was sitting close to you. However, after realizing your betrayal, the sheer spite in him compelled him to retreat to the opposite end of the couch, far from your lying ass.

“Your acting skills are shit,” he tells you before rolling his eyes again.

It was a lie. He almost couldn’t tell except after one passing comical scene of the show.

Sae has developed a habit of looking at you whenever there’s a scene he thinks you would find remotely funny, no matter how ridiculous the said scene might be for him. At every joke and witty banter, he would turn to you for your own laugh.

You never caught on to this habit, and Sae would rather feed on those horrendous french fries than tell you how he seeks the way you throw your head back, and how your eyes momentarily shut from laughing because the sight spreads an indefinable warmth in his chest and how the sound fills every quiet corner of his once empty space. 

So imagine his surprise when you weren’t laughing. You were smiling – yes, but it wasn’t a laugh he seeks.

Sae was on the verge of turning his head again after hearing a sigh escape your lips. You’re sighing? And it was deep too, like it was telling him you’re getting sick of it. The absolute nerve.

“Did you just sigh–”

But before Sae could finish his sentence, your arms gracefully snaked around his torso, enveloping him in that comforting back hug you always bestowed upon him.

“I said I’m sorry,” you whispered against his shoulder blades, your right cheek caressing his back as you planted a feather-light kiss in that spot. You saw him momentarily close his eyes at your touch, making you smile secretly in triumph. 

You’ve loved this man long enough to memorize how to soften his rough edges.

“I was bored to my wits’ end last week, I couldn’t help it but check it out,” you added, your voice carrying a persuasive tone.

Last week. He was supposed to be home by that time. If he was, the two of you would be comfortably cuddling on this very same couch. But some lukewarm fool managing the team decided to extend his misery in Spain for another week.

“I don’t like that look.” 

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of your stern voice. Unbeknownst to Sae’s preoccupied self, you’ve been staring at his face far longer than a minute to notice his miniscule change of expression when you mentioned last week. Turning to his right shoulder where you were, he raised an eyebrow in question.

“I know you. Spit it out,” you demanded, a knowing glint in your eyes.

And truth be told, you do know him. You were right. For a moment, his thoughts lingered on how much easier it would be to have more nights of just you and him if he wasn't away all the time.

But he couldn’t tell you that, not just yet. Maybe when the timing finally called for his proposition. “I’m sorry my stay got extended,” is what he said instead, hoping to convey what he couldn’t put into words.

“You know I don’t mind, besides, I understand.”

“I know.”

Sensing an unspoken ‘but...’ in his words, you looked up to him, meeting his perceptive teal eyes. He didn’t need to say anything more. You knew him, after all.

To lighten the mood, you decided to test your luck by teasing him. “Oh, my big dramatic baby,” you cooed.

“I’m not a damn baby,” he snorted, beginning to squirm out of your embrace as if to prove a point without letting his ears betray him by turning red.

“Shh, you are. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else. I wouldn’t dare sabotage the Japan prodigy’s aloof badass rep to shit.”

You saw his mouth twitched, holding back his own amusement. God, even after all of those tender affections from you, this guy is still trying to be petty as hell.

“I don’t have an aloof badass reputation.”

“Yeah, because what you are is a dramatic spiteful boyfriend who thrives on being petty.”

“You’re really making it hard to forgive you, y/n.”

“Forgive me already!” You gaped at him, “And you say I’m the dramatic one in this relationship!”

Sae, like the rude person he is, ignored your whines, reaching for the remote to turn the show to the fourth episode. He then carefully placed you in his lap, turning you to face the TV, your back now pressing against his chest. As you watched everything he did in bewilderment, you turned to him, “but you won’t enjoy the story if we start on the fourth episode.”

True, but he preferred it when you were the one enjoying. “I’ll ask you questions along the way, and you can tell me about it,” he reassured you before pressing a kiss to your hair.

Exactly as he anticipated, your excitement to catch him up on the last three episodes was palpable. 

The living room transformed into a sanctuary of your laughter as you animatedly narrated each event that happened. He could barely understand the fourth one with all of your extra comments and snarky remarks on the characters that he doubts is even a part of the actual plot. The night danced away in the soothing rhythm of your voice and the murmur of a TV show, until your breaths finally eased into the cadence of sleep.

Silently, Sae turned off the TV, reveling in the tranquility of the room as he gathered you in his arms to head into your shared bedroom. Gently placing your slumbering form on your side of the bed, he settled beside you and draped the blanket over the two of you. Pulling you close, he nestled your head against his chest, one arm securing you at the waist.

But before sleep could fully claim his senses, he heard you mumbling.

“Sae?” 

Responding with a gentle hum, he felt your movements, your hands exploring the contours of his back as if tracing invisible lines and circles.

“About earlier,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, waiting for you to get home.”

His eyes opened, the drowsiness dissipating in the wake of your words, replaced by your warmth all over his body next to yours.

“So, it’s okay,” you continued, your words a tender caress against his collarbones, “We have plenty of time for movie nights and catching up on shows.”

Silence embraced you both, the room a canvas painted in the soft strokes of your steady breaths and the gentle thud of his heartbeat. Sae didn’t verbally respond to your assurance. Instead, you felt him pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head and his arm around your waist tightening its hold.

He didn’t say anything, but his silence and his embrace was loud enough for you to know everything he wanted to say.

Of course, you both had time— a wealth of moments to spend more nights like this. He’ll make sure of it. After all, he looks forward to spending his days off in the tranquility of your presence. No matter how mundane it could get — as long as it’s with you.

note. it's been a while since i wrote this man.. i still cannot stand him and his petty ass by the way.