#this is pretty different from my usual stuff but somehow that fixation has come back at full force from just one video

[show-tunes]

Guess who watched a certain 2 hour video essay about King Candy that made me remember how obsessed I was with this guy as a kid

[jungkxook]

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

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

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

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

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

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

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

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

This night isn’t any different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thanks.”

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

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

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

“She said she’s not interested.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

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

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

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

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

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

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

“You have? Who told you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N!”

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

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

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

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

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

That night you can hardly sleep.

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

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

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

“You again?” You ask humorously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The days pass in a very typical blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

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

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

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

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

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

“They would never be able to catch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How does that make you feel?”

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

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

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

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I show you something?”

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

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, if you insist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

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

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

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

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

“No.”

“What?”

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

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

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

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

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

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

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Red and blue.

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

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

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Spider-Man is cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

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

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

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

“I’m listening.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

“Like this?” You gasp.

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

“Tell me,” You breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that,” he chuckles.

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

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

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

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

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[hufflepuffhollander]

off limits: tom holland one-shot

a/n | this is my submission for @chloecreatesfictions’ 1k writing challenge! i’ve never done the “brother’s best friend” trope and i def got a little too excited and carried away! real talk, this might be the cutest thing i’ve ever written

summary | as harrison osterfield’s younger sister, you’d always just seen his best friend tom as an annoying older brother. until, one day, you didn’t.

cw | tom x osterfield!reader. contains language, alcohol, recreational use of weeeed, teenage angst, sexual tension, fluff n’ stuff. 5k words.

For as long as you could remember, Tom Holland had been a stitch in your side that you could never get rid of.

Growing up as your older brother’s best friend, he was always at your house when you were children— and his favorite pastime when Harrison was boring him was to break into your room and mess with you, stealing your toys or running his hands across the piano keys when you were trying to practice in peace. No matter how many locks you put on your door just to keep Tom out, he was always able to pick them.

As you all got older, he grew to annoy you in a different way, blasting loud, grungy music through Harrison’s bedroom walls late at night or eating things out of the fridge that clearly had your name on them. Once he’d started to garner some attention as an actor, his ego skyrocketed, and somehow he became an even bigger nuisance. He dragged Harrison away from you and took him all over the world while you had to sit idly by and love your brother from a distance.

When Tom would come over now, he would talk of nothing but hollywood parties and getting drunk with the biggest a-listers when he knew you were listening. He would ignore you when he breezed past you in the hallway, and even had the audacity to go into your bedroom when you were out and smoke a blunt on your bed so your whole room smelled like a music festival when you got home; and worst of all, it was your weed.

It was sufficient to say you were Tom Holland’s least enthusiastic fan. And it was rather unfortunate, because you were a big stan of the MCU—and secretly loved getting high and watching and re-watching the spider-man movies the most. Okay, don’t make that face. They have a good storyline.

It was a regular Friday night, you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone while Harrison and Tom were getting ready to go pub hopping. Harrison always invited you, but you never took him up on his offer because you knew how flirty you got with alcohol in your system and wouldn’t dare feel that way around Tom. He was notorious for taking anything nice you said about him and rubbing it in your face for at least a week after. 

“You know you secretly love me, babe.”

You hated when he called you babe, and he knew it. But since you’d both grown up, time had done you both a favor, and there was always an air of something you couldn’t quite place your finger on whenever you interacted...the pet name just made it more interesting.

“Hey, y/n, are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Harrison yelled from outside your bedroom door, and you peeked your head out to respond.

“Nah, it’s fine, Haz, go have fun. I have enough uni work to keep me busy.”

“It’s a Friday night, nerd.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and smiled. “Sorry I’m not a budding alcoholic like you, big bro.”

He laughed, blew you a kiss, and he and Tom were off.

Only about an hour later, you decided to take a break from studying and light up a joint, turning on your go-to movie for background noise- but were snapped out of your vibey trance when you heard the front door swing open, and your brother’s loud, drunk voice.

“W-why are we h-home, you div,” he slurred, as his heavy footsteps start to climb the stairs. After a long moment, you heard him collapse on his bed through your thin walls, still stammering out his words. “Thomas, I promise you, I am fineeee...”

“Mate, you’re sloshed. Go to bed.”

You decided to leave them be. This was a typical occurrence- one of the boys went too hard too early, and the other had to babysit until they made it home to pass out cold, usually on the bed, or the couch, or on a good day, the floor.

A few minutes passed while you hotboxed your room, feeling amazingly relaxed, until you saw your doorknob wriggling out of the corner of your eye. Your door was locked, so you ignored it. But the knob kept twisting and falling back in place, making the whole frame shake. After a long while of witnessing a ghost try to make its way into your room, you watched your lock turn slowly and click out of place, the door creaking opened to reveal Tom, swatting at the air when a cloud of smoke greeted him.

You snapped your laptop closed before he could hear his own voice flowing out of your speakers. “Tom, for the last time, stop picking my fucking lock!” You beamed your nearest pillow at him—which he caught before it struck him—and he threw it back, hitting you square in the face. Of course.

He flashed a cocky smile. “Why? It’s so easy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious! I could’ve been naked or something!”

He just stood in the doorframe, giving you a once-over in your thin cotton t-shirt and yoga pants, and kept that smug expression locked on his face. 

“Ew, Tom, you’re disgusting. Get out.”

He decidedly did not get out, instead closing the door behind him and hopping up next to you on your bed, the divot in your mattress leaving your bodies pressed much too close together. You were met with a strong whiff of his cologne and the gin he must’ve been drinking earlier. “I’ll take that,” he muttered as he lifted your joint out of your fingers and took a puff, sucking his breath in as his lungs filled. 

Your stomach filled with a dull fire and you narrowed your eyes. “Do you mind?”

He turned to face you and blew a big puff of smoke directly into your face, the notorious smirk making its reappearance. “Not at all, thanks for asking though.”

You groaned aloud. “What are you doing in here?” he took another draw and handed you back what was rightfully yours, smoke dissipating from his mouth as he spoke.

“Haz is pissed and I’m bored.”

You relit the bud and inhaled for a long while, figuring you’d need to be pretty intoxicated to not smack him in the face if he tried to talk again. “Well, go be bored somewhere else. I was busy.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you and reached across your lap for your computer. “Doing what?” 

Oh shit. “Dude, can you not-?!” you yelped, but he had swiped it too quickly out of your grasp, and opened it up to find himself paused on your screen. You laid back on your bed so he couldn’t see your cheeks now flushed with embarrassment and grabbed your lighter from your nightstand. It was going to be a long evening.

He leaned himself over to catch your eye and had the stupidest, most prideful look plastered across his face. “Gotcha.”

You punched him in the arm as he erupted into laughter—but the anger inside you had been dulled by the weed and replaced with a childlike silliness—and you started to giggle, too. You looked up into his eyes, pupils now wildly dilated and tinted red around the edges.

“Shut up, Tom, you’re high,” you said in between chuckles.

“Yeah? Well so are you!”

You poked fun at each other for a while, suddenly in a mutually fantastic mood. You knew in the back of your mind that none of this would be happening if you hadn’t gotten stoned together, but you enjoyed the warm company anyway. 

“Well, you gotta finish it, don’t you?” he said, settling back down and fixating the computer on his lap so you could both see it.

“You really want to watch your own movie?”

“Doll, it’s my favorite thing to do.” he smiled at you.

“God, you’re the worst.” you felt some butterflies make an entrance in your chest that had never been there before.

He pressed play and cozied up on your bed, lying back against the wall with his arm lazily draped behind you. You pulled a blanket up onto your lap and had really no choice but to lean on him for support, neither of you admitting out loud that you were full on cuddling and not angry about it.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna share?” he whined, pulling at the corner of your blanket.

“Get your own,” you responded, internally high-fiving yourself for finally getting the chance to sass him back. Sure, you had your head comfortably resting on his shoulder, but that didn’t mean you were suddenly friends.

You let the movie play, the two of you blowing through the joint until it was a dwindling nub. The scene where Peter has his big kiss with MJ started, and you stifled a snigger as their lips met on the screen.

Tom had clear offense laced through his words. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged.

He sat up to look at you, eyebrows knit together in an angry pout. “Tell me.”

“I just...feel bad for Zendaya, that’s all.” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, and his eyes rolled so far back into his head you were sure they’d be stuck that way forever.

“You’re such a brat,” he started, his ego finding its old place back in his voice. “I’m an amazing kisser. She told me herself.”

You looked away from him, taking a heavy exhale. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”

He sat even more upright and paused the movie, taking hold of your shoulder to make you turn to him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

You realized then how physically close you had gotten, as you could feel the syllables of his words in his breath hitting your face. He was doing that thing boys do, when they’re thinking about kissing you but don’t- their stares going back and forth between your lips and your eyes in a not so subtle way. It freaked you out to see him that close and personal, and you whispered back exactly what you knew would irk him the most.

“Nope.”

He moved his face impossibly closer to yours, and you felt his soft lips lightly brush over your own. You weren’t sure if this was real, or just a high hallucination, but you didn’t move away. This was entirely uncharted territory.

“Tooommmm!” you heard Harrison yell out from the other side of the wall. “Where are yooouuu?! I’m so thirsty!” Tom immediately jerked his head away from you and shook himself out of the moment. You brought your hand up to your cheek and shuddered at how hot it had become- your own body was betraying you.

“God, he’s gonna be the death of me,” Tom said, shoving himself off the bed and walking out of your room, glancing back at you for a moment and then closing the door behind him. Just like that, he was gone, and you were left trapped in your own psyche wondering what the hell had just happened.

Over the course of the next week, things has become exponentially weirder between you and Tom. He seemed to be spending much more time at your house than he normally did, even sleeping a few nights there instead of driving the five minutes back to be in his own bed. One unsuspecting morning, you knocked on your bathroom door, annoyed that it had been shut for such a long time. 

“Haz, if you use up all the hot water again, I’m gonna kill you,” you said in between knocks. You were taken by surprise when it swung open, steam billowing out into the cool air.

“Whoops,” you heard a voice say, immediately realizing it wasn’t your brother. You took a step backward to see Tom emerge, wearing nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp and clinging to his forehead, and he looked like some glowing magazine model. 

“Uh, sorry,” you stammered, accidentally inhaling the yummy smell of his soap and shampoo emanating off of his skin.

He noticed you eyeing him and a sly grin appeared as he rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. “Shower’s all yours, babe,” he said, bumping your shoulder with his own as he walked away. You were stuck in place and didn’t see him glancing back at you as he wandered down the hallway. 

Another day after that, Tom and Harrison were looking for a certain record to play, but it was nowhere to be found. “It might be in y/n’s room,” Harrison said, sitting back in his lounge chair. “Wanna go grab it?”

Tom coughed. “Why do I have to get it?”

“Because I’m comfortable.”

Tom felt a mix of annoyance and nerves in his chest as he walked the short distance down the hallway to your room where the door was already cracked open. He invited himself in—excitement faltering a little when he saw you weren’t in your usual spot on your bed—and started to sift through your bookshelves.

You had been in the bathroom getting dressed after your shower, but realized you left your shirt in your closet- and seeing that Harrison’s bedroom door was still shut, you figured it was safe to run across the landing into your room without anyone seeing you. In just a bra and spandex shorts that left little to the imagination, you swiftly made your way across the hall and walked through your door that was still open a crack to see Tom kneeled down as he shuffled through your record collection.

He heard your small gasp when you entered to find him, and swiveled around to you standing only a few feet away from him in the least amount of clothing he’d ever seen on you. He abruptly stood up but didn’t move, eyes sparkling as they rolled down your body.

“What the fuck! Why are you always in my room?!” You were too shocked to think about finding something to cover yourself with, and put your hands over your face, trying not to die of embarrassment. Tom remained glued to his place on your carpet, clearly at a loss for words.

“Tom, can you leave please-”

“Right, yeah, okay, uh, bye-” he hurried out of your room, swinging the door almost shut but leaving just a crack so he could speak into it.

“...I like your shorts.”

“TOM!”

He chuckled and closed the door, and you slumped against the wall, still holding your head in your hands. What was this sudden hold he had over you? And why did you love the way that he was staring at you?

That night, you had a big paper to complete, and you were perched in your bed typing away as it got dark. In between two songs on your playlist, you heard the familiar jiggle of a doorknob. Looking up over your screen, you watched as the metal turned in its socket, and heard a soft “crushed it” as the lock undid itself. Your door opened steadily and slowly, a familiar face peeking in at you.

“Hi.”

“Oh sweet jesus,” you mumbled.

“You busy?”

“Clearly.”

“Cool.” Tom let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him and sauntering over to your bed, sitting down next to you, bouncing like a little kid and singing his words. “Whatcha doooin’?”

“Homework,” you said, continuing to type and trying your best to ignore the way the sound of his voice was waking up something electric inside of you. He leaned into your body to peer at your computer screen, pretending to be interested in whatever you were writing about. His elbow got in the way of your hands, and you had to stop typing.

“Thomas, is there something I can help you with?”

“Haz is asleep,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder like it hadn’t been a week since your almost-kiss and you hadn’t been actively avoiding bringing it up.

You felt jittery. “And?”

He gently pushed your hands away from the keyboard and closed your laptop shut, giving you a sheepish smile. “Wanna get high?”

Honestly, you did.

You turned on your lamp and turned off the overhead light, put on that record he finally found, lighting a candle and then another hand-rolled blunt. This time, Tom sat upright with you perpendicular to him, your legs swung over his lap. When he made a joke, he’d give your leg a little squeeze- and whether it was purposeful or not, you were filled with schoolgirl nerves every time it happened.

All the angsty barriers built up over years of a sibling-like rivalry had come down between the two of you as you smoked together; you suddenly found all of his bad jokes funny, and he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the cute way you scrunched your nose when you laughed. Every time you exchanged the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how his lips had just been on it a moment before yours. The night came and went, and you ended up falling asleep wrapped in his arms as he dozed off with his chin pressed to your forehead.

You both woke up at the same time in the dead of night, unsure of how late it had gotten. Still nestled into each other, you exchanged sleepy glances and no words, taking a moment to realize the position you had put yourselves in. 

Tom grazed your jawline with the back of his hand and lifted up your chin with his thumb. You let your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you in the dark for one long, everlasting moment. He pulled back from you hesitantly, leaving you breathless. Did that really just happen?

“We...we can’t,” he whispered, his words tinged with sadness.

Your heart broke for him just hearing his voice. “Why not?”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister, y/n.”

“And you’re my brother’s best friend. So what?” you were almost upset with yourself for being so vulnerable; so visibly pining after him.

“So, you’re off limits,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Says who?” 

That prompted Tom to meet your gaze again, and this time you took initiative, moving your face to his and taking his bottom lip in between yours. He took a sharp inhale as you kissed him and seemed to let all inhibition go as he put his arms around your back and pressed you into him hard, all of his pent up feelings for you suddenly flowing out of him. He kissed you in a needy, desperate kind of way, and you loved every second of it. You ran your fingers through his hair, traced his jawline, using your hands to feel every bit of him that you couldn’t before. The strangest part of it all was how natural it felt- like you had been practicing for this very moment all your lives. 

Your record had stopped spinning a while ago, the room now filled with just the breathy noises of your kisses, your contented hums and his tiny mews when you bit his lips. You were both still barely lucid, and after countless minutes of nothing but innocent kisses, you were on the brink of falling asleep again, serotonin whisking you away into dreams. Tom sighed into you, and clasped his hand around yours.

“I have to go.”

“What? Why?” you felt your heart preeminently sink in your chest; like you should’ve known this was too good to last.

“I don’t want him to wake up and find us here,” he trailed off, staring down at your intertwined fingers fiddling together.

“So that’s it?” you tried to swallow back the sudden upwell of feelings inside you.

“No, no...” his eyes filled with some type of emotional strain you’d never seen. “I- I don’t want this to be it. But I don’t want things to get...messy.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t blame him, because you understood.

“Can you come back tomorrow night?” you whispered, very not ready to let his spot next to you grow cold.

“I don’t know...”

You looked up at him doe-eyed, cooing. “Please?”

He nodded, looking away from you before he completely caved and stayed there forever. “I’ll come back.”

He pressed one last kiss onto your lips and slowly got up, reluctantly letting go of your hand as he left your room. “Goodnight, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe, finally free of demeaning sarcasm, made your heart soar. 

“Goodnight, Tom.”

The door shut and you were left alone, the stillness of your room sticking out in sharp contrast with how quickly your heart was racing.

For the next few nights, Tom spent the evenings at your house with Harrison, waiting until he fell asleep to make his way next door to you. You’d smoke together, watch his movies—and in heated moments got a little handsy—but you never went past kissing, though you both desperately wanted to. It was too risky having your brother right next door; and you knew all too well how paper thin your walls were. But in those secretive hours after solar midnight, just being able to exist next to Tom and letting him hold you, you were the happiest you could ever remember being. The second night he left your room to let you sleep, he placed a light kiss on your forehead after he stood up that made the whole thing feel a little too...real.

The next day, you walked into the kitchen and found Harrison at the fridge. You were in a great mood for obvious reasons but couldn’t let it show. “Hey, got any fun plans today?”

He turned around after shoving a handful of grapes in his mouth. “Nope, got some admin stuff to do and gonna turn in early.”

“Oh, Tom isn’t coming over?”

“No, I told him to take a night off. He’s been smothering me, y’know?” he laughed and ate a few more grapes, but then turned to you, confused. “Since when do you care if he’s coming over?”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Just want to know if I need to stay out of the way,” you faked a laugh and blinked hard, hoping he wasn’t paying too much attention to your facial expressions.

“Uh, alright then. You two are always so fuckin’ weird around each other.” He seemed to feel that was a good way to end your exchange and walked out of the kitchen, throwing a grape at you.

You rolled your eyes at your brother, but then felt the sadness bubble up upon registering that you weren’t going to see Tom tonight. But really, how long did you think you could keep this up? The feelings you were developing for him scared you, you didn’t know what to make of them; all you knew was that your days suddenly seemed much grayer without him.

Nighttime came around, and you couldn’t sleep, so you did the unthinkable and sent Tom a text. Your thumb shook as you hit send, knowing that there was now tangible evidence of the connection you’d developed, that it wasn’t just some invention of your mind.

hey, are you awake?

T: yeah, can’t sleep. you?

obviously, i just texted you.

T: shut it.

A minute passed...

T: got room for one more over there?

You smiled like an idiot at your phone.

maybe.

Less than 10 minutes later, you heard the familiar wriggle of your doorknob. You don’t know why you even bothered locking it anymore.

“Hey you,” he whispered, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“Tom, you know you could’ve just knocked and I would’ve let you in- you don’t have to keep picking the lock.”

“Old habits die hard.”

You chuckled and stood up to greet him at your door as he unexpectedly wrapped you in an amazingly tight hug. He rested his chin on top of your head and started to sway your bodies back and forth. You laid your head on his chest and said hello to his heartbeat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was almost hard to fall asleep without you,” he murmured, placing another one of those domestic kisses on your scalp.

“Well, now you don’t have to.” you smiled. He waddled you backwards to your bed and you sat down as your legs hit the bedframe, prompting Tom to fall onto you as you giggled into his body that was now covering your face.

“Okay, goodniiight,” he said, refusing to move. You poked at his sides making him jump, and he grabbed your waist and rolled you on top of him. You instinctively leaned down so your lips could clash together in the way you were so used to, trying hard to not confess that you’d completely fallen in love with him when you finally had the breath to speak. He pushed your hair to cascade to one side of his face, and nuzzled your nose with his own, closing his eyes and humming with a smile. “Mmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Just happy.”

You rested your sleepy head on his warm chest, and fell into a deep sleep, letting the steady drumming in his chest be a metronome to breathe to.

~

“Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.”

You woke up abruptly, the bright light of day blinding you as you tried to open your eyes to the string of expletives you’d just heard come from a familiar voice. Once you’d opened them, though, you wish you had kept them shut so you hadn’t seen who had spoken.

“Harrison?!”

He was standing in your room, peering at you with hands half covering his eyes when you realized that there was a sleeping Tom underneath you.

Your brother paced in a circle and exhaled loudly. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing.”

You nudged Tom awake with your elbow and immediately rolled off of him, trying to hide the very obvious fact that you had slept together all night. You never let him stay the full night for this exact reason, but he had been so ridiculously happy holding you in his arms that he forgot to set an alarm to wake him at the crack of dawn and leave. You sat up straight in your bed, twisting your hair in your hands, bracing yourself for the inevitable tirade.

Tom picked his head up to see Harrison standing there with his arms crossed, and flopped his head back on the pillow. “Fuck. Hey, mate.” He tried to play it off like this was the most normal thing that could happen on a Thursday morning.

“Is this why you’re always such bumbling fools around one another? You’ve been, what, fucking each other when I’m not around?” Harrison looked like he wanted to throw up at the thought.

“Haz, no, it’s not like that,” you said, but he didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just been smoking together and cuddling, really, that’s it,” you were torn between wanting to console your brother and admitting to both him and Tom that this was more to you than that. But Tom already knew that, because it was for him, too.

Tom looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m so sorry, dude-”

Harrison walked out of the room, and the two of you were left sitting in your bed, worry filling your eyes. Only a moment later, your brother reappeared in the doorway.

“Look, you idiots, I don’t care that you’re snuggling off the clock—you’re my two favorite people in the world, and to see you together, honestly, it’s about damn time,” he started, making both your and Tom’s jaws fall slightly agape. You exchanged a knowing look. Wait, is he not mad? Wait, about damn time??

“But I wish you would’ve told me so we could all hang out together. I don’t appreciate the sneaking around.” 

You cocked your head at him, sending him a loving gaze for always just wanting what’s best for you. 

“I’m just mad you aren’t including me in your hotbox sessions, really.” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair, pulling his face back to make a wild expression.

All three of you started to chuckle out of sheer awkwardness and relief.

“Come here.” Harrison held his hands out and you both gave a mutual aww as you ran into your brother’s arms, squeezing him tight.

“I love you, big bro.”

“I know. Now I’m gonna get out of here before you start kissing in front of me, or worse,” he moaned, swiftly exiting your room. “This is gonna be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen...” you heard him say to himself as he left.

You turned to Tom, still shocked at how well that had gone considering what he was assuming would happen. You swallowed the butterflies that you’d welcomed as friends and stepped back to him still sitting on the bed, putting your arms around his neck.

“And you,” you started, swinging your legs over his lap to straddle him. “I have to confess something.”

Tom placed his hands back on your hips where they rightfully belonged and smiled at you. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t mind you calling me babe anymore.” you grinned at his face drop, obviously assuming that you were going to say something else.

“Oh, and why’s that?” he prodded.

You looked up and off to the side as you squeezed his shoulders. “Maybe because I’m just a tad bit in love with you,” you trailed off, stiff as a board at what he could possibly say next.

“Well, babe,” he put emphasis on the pet name, “That’s a relief, because I was worried I might be the only one falling here.”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, kneading his soft cheeks under your thumbs, whispering exactly what you knew would get him the most.

“Nope.”

[hyperfixationtimego]

Alright we’re trying this angst thing again

Diamond Brothers Angst because I said so

Both Daiya and Mondo have huge self esteem issues bc of the crash

Both think stuff along the lines of what the fuck I could have prevented that

Neither Daiya nor Mondo can sleep very well because when they hear vehicles driving past and the occasional screeching tires they’re back at the scene of the accident

They hear a semi truck rumbling past? Suddenly neither of the brothers remember how to move or breathe properly

They both survived the crash but they were both injured severely bc fuck dude that was a truck that hit them

The Crazy Diamonds witnessed the whole thing and they were Worried™️

And we all know how the Owadas hate being vulnerable

Neither of the brothers could actively ride their motorcycles for a long time after the crash because they couldn’t handle it emotionally

They played off their mental recovery time as time in the hospital

Daiya made Mondo promise not to get back on his motorcycle, much less the road, until he was 100% sure that he was prepared to handle it because what if there’s another freak accident that neither of them have control over

Mondo made Daiya promise the exact same thing because He Cares™️

Mondo has reoccurring nightmares about the crash and often sees Daiya dead in those nightmares

The gang shows up in the nightmares too and they’ve all been hit and it’s all Mondo’s fault and he couldn’t be a good leader because he wasn’t strong enough and why couldn’t he just be more like his brother god fucking dammit

Sometimes he sees Taka or Chihiro in place of Daiya and the Diamonds and that Absolutely Terrifies Him™️

Daiya has reoccurring thoughts about hijacking a truck to hit the driver who hurt him and his little brother

He wants them to feel all the same pain and more that they put the Diamond Brothers through

Daiya has breakdowns over this because even if he is a gang leader, he would not go that far

cue the Am I A Bad Person Complex™️

Mondo does not let himself stim

He doesn’t think it’s manly and it definitely doesn’t fit the Tough Guy™️ act

This leads to worsened focus and next thing you know he and Daiya are having a yelling match at home because if Mondo’s grades drop any lower he’ll be expelled soon and Daiya just wants the best for his brother but nothing works out the way it was planned

One time Mondo received a popsicle stick and paper heart from Taka

He was extremely happy

When he got back to his dorm he was that happy that he was shaking and then oh shit

Mondo broke it

He snapped the popsicle sticks in half

the note that Taka wrote,, it got ripped in the process

Mondo full on sobbed over this for an hour at the least

Like

Actual

Real

Tears

He broke something that Taka— not just his bf, but his best friend— had worked so hard on to make just for him and he fucking broke it like a shit for brains idiot

Mondo is terrified of hurting his friends

Because what if he forgets to take his adhd meds one day and his emotional dysregulation is all fucked up and he has an outburst again and actually hurts his friends

Or what if he takes 2+ doses by accident and focuses too hard and is left staring at one (1) spot and everyone hates him and what if they think he’s a creep

Mondo hates going out of his dorm at night because what if someone else is out and they have a flashlight and now they’re pointing it at him and it’s bright and those are headlights and that’s

that’s his brother

on the ground

not moving

Mondo will start shaking and he’ll break down hyperventilating or freeze on the spot

Either way, he hates being vulnerable

Whaddaya think? :D was that enough angst?

also can you tell that i kin Daiya on the dl bc i too got hit by a moving vehicle to save my young mer sibling from being hit /lh but also srs lmfo

HEY TINK??? HEY TINK????????

GodDAMN make me cry over this shit oKAY-

also sorry this took ✨forever✨ I had to gather my Thoughts™️ and my brain did not want to work today 😌

also before we get into my things, tw for trauma (obviously), unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking/drug relapse/smoking as a crutch, and suicidal ideation (passive, but still there)

First of all, y e a h oh my god?? There is literally so much internalized guilt for both of them,,,,,like they rlly do have episodes sometimes where they just. Play over the events of what lead up to the crash in their heads and fixate on what they could have done differently,,,,,even though in the moment they both did their best? Like “well, I shouldn’t have taken us down this street” or “if I had acted quicker, maybe it wouldn’t have happened” and.....yeah those thoughts really fuck with them, y’know?

and 100% that unexpected/overwhelming vehicle noises and/or presences are nearly debilitating. Honestly, I imagine that Mondo can’t go hang out with Leon and Taka or whoever else if said people are hanging out in Kaz’s workshop. Owada’s only ever been in there once and immediately had to leave when he heard Kazuichi starting an engine he was working on. Not to mention being surrounded by a shit ton of vehicles, even if they were idle, had kept him on-edge the entire thirty seconds he was able to handle it.

They both deal with a lot of phantom pain, as well. Like something triggers them and suddenly, even if they’re able to remain in the moment and keep conscious of their surroundings, they somehow feel every ache, every twinge of pain, every breaking bone, or bruised patch of skin that they felt on that day. It’s a lot more prominent in Daiya than it is with Mondo, but they do both experience it!

And neither one lets the other know when they’re feeling like shit or having an episode because 😌 Daiya. wants to be strong. for his little brother. and Mondo. sees his brother basically functioning like a typical person. and figures that there’s something wrong with him. because he can’t get over what happened.

Takemichi is absolute shit with Emotions and being vulnerable or getting people to open up to him, but he’s like..........internally these bitches are Not Okay what the fuck am I supposed to do about it???? So he kind of...tries to hint to both of them that he’s worried? Without making it obvious or embarrassing them, but he’s like.......fuck these assholes.......making me be the one to make them realize they need help goddamnit........

And michi exhibiting a change in behavior is pretty 👀 because. it’s michi I mean he’s not just gonna change the way he talks in front of u for nothing, u know? So both Daiya and Mondo are actually able to pick up on it, although their reactions differ pretty greatly.

Like Daiya’s first thought is “wow, he’s worried, that’s really sweet of him. Better convince him everything’s okay.”

Meanwhile Mondo’s is “wow, he’s worried. my stupid emotional turmoil is that obvious. he must think I’m some sorta fuckin idiot for not being able to get over it. or selfish. or both. yeah, probably both.”

Also I think Daiya’s pretty perceptive in general? Like he can Tell™️ that something’s going on with his brother, but........yeah emotional conversations....vulnerability......that’s rlly neither of their strong suits. + he also figures that if it were something mondo were really really really having trouble with, he would come talk to him!

And so Daiya has absolutely no concept of just how Not Good his brother is doing right now hbbvvvv

So he settles for being like “I’m just gonna stay strong and act like the memories and intrusive thoughts aren’t affecting me in any way because I want to be a good role model” (which. is not healthy obv)

oh g o d the nightmares

they are so horrible and vivid and concentrated at times that Mondo simply.....refuses to sleep. He’s exhausted, both mentally and physically, and yet he can’t bring himself to close his eyes because he knows what he’ll see if he does.

And of course it affects him to the point that his friends start to become worried. Like Taka notices a stark increase in tardiness or general absences, and, after an initial assumption that it was simply Mondo choosing not to care about his academics again, realized that there was probably a lot more going on than he realized. He really, really wanted to bring it up and let his boyfriend know that he’ll always be there for him no matter what, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to articulate it properly. The farthest he gets is with the question, “is everything okay?”

And as much as Mondo wants to respond to him by saying that no, in fact, everything is not okay, everything sucks and everything hurts and he’s tired and he hates himself and sometimes he wishes that the crash had killed him, but that’s selfish so he should shut up- he just.....can’t bring himself to open himself up like that. Yes, he and Ishi are dating, so logically he should be able to tell him all this, but.....it’s so much. It’s too much. Too much to think, too much to feel, let alone try to explain. So he shuts himself up with a quick, curt, “Yeah.”

And....Taka knows he’s lying. He’s not sure how he knows, but he does. And it hurts to see someone he loves so much in such a state of anguish, and basically be unable to do anything about it because....how is he supposed to respond? What is he supposed to say? Navigating everyday interaction is difficult enough without having to improv something that could affect his partner’s mental health indefinitely. So....he does his best. Which isn’t enough, really, but it’s something.

“You can tell me anything.”

Mondo wants to believe him.

—

Another side of that same coin is Mondo skipping class a lot more than is typical for him. It’s almost always with Leon, but he’s also begun slipping away on his own, occasionally, as well, now.

And....y’know, at first, Leon thought it was super rad that Owada and he were skipping more! Like it used to be that Kuwata would offer for them to miss the next class, and Mondo’s usual answer would be ‘not today,’ and then Leon would keep bugging him about it until Mondo either gave in or told him to fuck off.

But....there’s just something about how it went from Leon being constantly shut down, to being told yes around the first few times the idea was brought up, to how, suddenly, Kuwata wasn’t even the one asking, anymore. It’s....depressing? Uncomfortable?

There’s also the fact that hanging out while they’re cutting just....isn’t as fun as it used to be? Leon’ll crack jokes or come up with stupid dares, and Mondo’s responses will be noncommittal at best. And Leon’s had enough experience with sleep deprivation to know it in his friends when he sees it.

He’s never been put in this situation before - usually it’s kuwata having some sort of stupid episode and usually it’s owada who’ll tell him to chill the fuck out and think rationally about things, but....Mondo acts a lot different when he’s upset than Leon does. He smokes more. Cuts himself off from everyone. Doesn’t engage with anything.

It’s different with people like Toko, or Makoto, or Kaz, because Leon knows what they need. He knows whether or not they need vulnerability, or a physical presence, or tough love, or tactile grounding, or a willing ear or shoulder to cry on, but with Mondo......he just isn’t sure.

So Leon doesn’t comment.

——-

Chihiro’s probably the one to get him to open up about it ngl.

ANYWAY-

y e a h Daiya intrusive thoughts?????? fuck yeah???? absolutely??????

god yeah I rlly feel him on that ngl hbhdbdbdbbb

and MONDO DARLING 🥺

god okay it SUCKS because????? he doesn’t judge his friends for stimming????? Like he sees his friends fidgeting or repeating phrases or rocking back and forth and he’s like???? Hell yeah you go u funky kid ilysm

But when it comes to himself????? he’s like if I do anything aside from stay perfectly still, I’m weird and bad and a failure so I simply Will Not

he’s wrong but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels that way ❤️

hhhvhvvdd I’m also a slut for daiya doing his best as a makeshift parental figure,,,,,,,like fuck dude okay,,,,,,as an older sibling who also loves and cares about their younger sibs but often finds emotionally connecting with them to be difficult,,,,,,,,,mood??? And having all of that amplified by rlly being his younger bro's only support in his home life,,,,,,,like ok mr. owada go off

he feels a lot of pressure to get it right and make sure that Mondo's doing okay, so the grades really worry him. but, of course, grades are a touchy subject with mondo regardless, so as u said it devolves into arguments and yelling and a lot of defensiveness!!

and god okay,,,,,,,the heart rlly got me,,,,,,,like that hurt. it rlly hurt man okay damn

honestly??? I think that might be the thing that gets him to break. like that might be his final straw.

because when they meet up again, Ishi asks him about it and whether or not he liked it. And Mondo just.

fucking.

breaks.

down.

He’s shaking and he’s crying and there’s snot running down his nose and this is so ugly and so not manly but he can’t stop. he can’t stop. Because there is this sweet, gentle, kind, sweet, beautiful, darling, sweet man before him who did something so nice for him, something he didn’t deserve, and he destroyed it.

Like he destroys everything.

And so when Taka panics and asks him what’s wrong (yes Ishi gets worried that he did something bad and yes ishi also gets worried that his boyfriend didn’t like the present because hdbdvdvd kin 💛) owada just. spills everything. and he doesn’t even begin with the gift??? he starts with apologies upon apologies, many of them incoherent, and many of them with Mondo not even certain what he’s apologizing for, just that he knows he needs to

and ofc Taka is like o-o because wow ok

but after his initial shock, and after Mondo has thoroughly cried himself out and explained everything he could stand to explain at that point in time, Taka just......holds him. And strokes his face, brushing away the tears that have not yet dried, simply offering his body as a weight, as something for Mondo to ground himself with. And it works.

And Taka insists that Mondo has nothing to apologize for, only that he wishes Mondo would have told him what was going on sooner. Because he wants to help. And hearing that just gets Owada’s waterworks going all over again, but he’s still got Ishi there with him. He hasn’t scared him off.

And it’s more than enough.

—

and UGH yeah????? yes absolutely absolutely okay okay so,,,,,,,,mondo comorbid adhd/depression/anxiety

like sir 🤝

got me fucked up smh

honestly he’s probably not diagnosed with the depression or anxiety, either, until something like the incident with ishi prompts him to realize oh wow I’m not okay actually

so yes he 100% does???

he constantly has all of these what if situations swirling around in his brain about what might happen if he fucks up, or does something that he doesn’t qualify as fucking up in the moment, but leads to something awful or painful or harmful for someone else, and he’s just??????? g o d

[tuanhood]

miss goody two shoes

pairing: drug dealer!bambam x reader

genre: smut, angst?

warnings: 18+, language, drug use/mention, fingering, dirty talk, public and unprotected sex.

word count: 6k+

summary: you want to prove to everyone you’re not the good girl they all think you are. your best friend’s drug dealer? perfect choice. 

a/n: hello back with that smut everyone loves. this is unedited and quickly(ish) written so please don’t judge. it took me until 3:36am and two aperol spritzes to finish this SO. YAH.

“Do we really have to do this right now?” You asked your best friend, trying to keep up with him as you follow him through the city. 

He stops for a moment and turns back to look at you as if you’ve just confessed to a murder, “y/n are you kidding me? Do you really think I can deal with an interaction with Gretchen not high?” Jae shook his head at you and continued walking forward. 

“It’s just brunch! I doubt you’ll even interact that much!” You hated walking with him, because of his damn long legs. His strides were honestly too much for you. 

Jae huffed in disagreement, “I need it regardless. Now come on, we’re almost there.” 

When you had agreed to a brunch date with a few friends from college including your best friend, you hadn’t really thought meeting up with his drug dealer right before was a part of the plan. Sure, many of the people the two of you went to college with were insufferable, but for some reason whenever they’d reach out to you to make plans you would always find yourself saying yes and ultimately drag Jae along. He constantly told you that you were too nice. 

Specifically, Gretchen – a girl who had lived across from you your second year of University – was the most difficult to deal with and usually her and Jae would end up in passive aggressive arguments that made everyone at the table uncomfortable. So, you guessed that if meeting Jae’s drug dealer was a part of making that issue vanish, so be it. 

By the time of you reached a small park square in the middle of the city, you felt a burning in your legs from trying to keep up with Jae and crashed onto the first bench you see. He looked down at you massaging your legs and chuckled, “we barely walked a mile, calm down!” 

Rolling your eyes, you looked up at him through your lashes, “easy for you to say. You’re not the one trying to keep up with a 7-foot giant.” He doesn’t reply, but simply snorted at your comment and looked down to check his phone, “when is your guy getting here? We’re going to be late if we wait here for too long and you know how that’s gonna be a whole thing if that happens.” 

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon,” Jae assured you. 

And sure enough, after a few moments you heard a loud “Dude!” leave your best friend’s mouth and looked up to see a man enter the park square. The man returned Jae’s enthusiastic welcome with outstretched arms as he walked towards the two you, giving Jae the “guy handshake” as soon as he’s in reach.

When he’s out of the handshake with your best friend, you begin to take in his features and were surprised by how much this guy didn’t look like a drug dealer. Most of the drug dealers you had seen or heard of had a casual style to them – hoodie, somewhat presentable and maybe on the weirdly older side. This guy was not that in any way shape or form. Everything about him screamed Paris fashion week and your brain was trying to process how this guy could be a drug dealer. Maybe he made that much money? Judging on the very expensive watch he was sporting and the Cartier ring on his middle index finger, you believed that it had to be the case. 

“Y/N,” Jae said snapping you out of your thoughts, “this is Bam.” 

You stood up from the bench and dusted yourself off, looking at the two men suspiciously, “Bam? Is that short for something?” 

The dealer shrugged, “Bambam I guess.” 

You can’t help but notice the way he scans you up and down, checking you out. You tell yourself he’s looking at you in an effort to feel you out and see if you’re a snitch or nark, but the nervous flip in your stomach tells you maybe it’s for a different reason. 

As though Jae noticed the strange interaction between the two of you, he claps his hands loudly, “let’s get to it then, shall we?” Bambam simply nodded his head and fiddled with the clearly nonprescription glasses on his face, “Right… how much do you want?” 

“An eighth should do.” Jae confimed. 

Bambam began to reach into his bag and stops, “that’s it?” 

Your best friend pursed his lips in thought, “actually if you have molly that could be good too. I’m supposed to be going to my stupid racist aunt’s wedding next weekend and it would be much better on something.” 

Bambam shook his head sadly and clicked his tongue, “sorry man. There’s some music festival this weekend and all those stupid frat dudes wiped me clean on acid and molly. But I should be getting some more next week if you want to meet up again.” You swear when he says the words “meet up again” you see his eyes wander to yours, but as quickly as they’re there, they’re back on Jae. 

You heard a groan leave Jae’s throat in annoyance, “whatever I’ll get through it sober, I guess. I’ll just take the weed then.” Bambam nods his head and hums, “cool.” 

You watch as Bambam meticulously takes a small clear baggie out of his bag and places it inside of larger black sack, “I’ll throw in a free edible too, since you’re my number two customer and all,” Bambam laughs. The noise that leaves his mouth is almost melodic, and you can’t remember a time where someone’s laugh put you at ease. You felt a smile reach your face. 

“What the fuck? I’m not number one?” Jae complained. 

“Nah man, Mark’s got you beat there.”  

Jae shook his head, “Fucking Tuan.” 

Bambam and Jae laughed at his response as you stand there clueless as to who this Mark person was or why it was funny that he was Bambam’s number one customer. It’s when your eyebrows furrow and there’s a small frown on your face that Bambam’s gaze is once again fixated on you. “Does the pretty girl want anything?” 

Before you can answer or react at Bambam calling you a pretty girl, Jae answers for you, “She doesn’t do this kind of stuff.” You roll your eyes annoyed at him just deciding what you do and what you don’t do. Just as you’re again about to open your mouth to speak, you’re cut off but this time by Bambam. 

“Let her speak for herself man,” At that your heart warmed and you feel your face grow hot at how a drug dealer you barely know was treating you better than your own best friend. Bambam nods at you as if to go on and you felt yourself sputter your words out, “No… I mean he’s- well I guess he’s pretty much right. I don’t really like- um well do that stuff. Not that I have anything against it! I totally don’t! You know I’m like friends with the number one stoner in the area- or I guess number two since that Mark guy is number one? But anyways it’s just not for me so I- yeah so no… No drugs for me today.” 

You feel yourself want to hide in a corner as you turn to see Jae with wide eyes and looking at you as if you should be in a mental institution. Somehow, you turned to face Bambam, expecting him to also categorize you as a psycho for your rambling, but instead he has a smile on his face and chuckles. His smile was practically as bright as his overpriced watch. 

“Totally understandable. I don’t do any of this stuff either,” Bambam revealed. 

“What? But you’re like a…” you begin, drifting off and unsure if “drug dealer” was a polite term to use in this day and age. 

“Drug dealer?” He laughed, “yeah I know… But you know not everyone tries their own merchandise.” 

You frowned, not completely understanding, “but shouldn’t you try and know your merchandise so you’re better at selling?” 

He shrugged, “I guess when you’re selling drugs it really doesn’t matter,” Bambam shocks you by taking a step closer to you and reaching out to push a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face, “or I’m just really good at what I do.” 

Taking a step back, he smiles at you and you hear Jae clearing his throat, clearly uncomfortable at the situation, “so how about those drugs?” Bambam simply nodded, unfazed and handed Jae the bag as the latter slips him the cash. 

You became confused as you watched Bambam handle the money. He was doing something so simple, but looked so attractive doing it? Absentmindedly you felt yourself bite down on your lip as you watched him count and place the cash in his money clip. You were lost in a daze of watching his hands and the money that you didn’t notice his gaze back up to you, “don’t bite down so hard baby girl, you never know what could happen.” 

Jae coughed again, still awkward about your interactions with Bambam. You on the other hand felt him calling you “baby girl” go straight to your core, so much so that you pressed your legs together. Praying he didn’t notice; you found your eyes wandering to anywhere that wasn’t the drug dealer. 

Bambam took your silence as a sign, “well I better get going. Have other stops to make this morning.” Jae nodded, simply thankful to not be caught in the middle of whatever this was any longer, “yeah us too.” 

“See ya later Jae, you too y/n.” You still feel semi-dazed from his words that all you can do is wave him goodbye, and watch him walk out of the park, the opposite direction of where you and Jae came in from. Bambam turned around one final time before exiting the park completely, “remember! Say no to drugs!” he shouted over his shoulder, shooting you another smile. 

As soon as he’s out of view, Jae turns to you, “let’s go. I want to roll this and smoke it before we get to the restaurant.” You follow Jae out of the park the way you both came until you both stop at a corner of the street that is inconspicuous and hidden enough that Jae can roll and light up his joint. 

“That was weird right?” You asked Jae suddenly when he finally lights the joint. 

“I think he was flirting with you?” Jae said as more of a question than a definite statement. You couldn’t tell if he was asking you or himself. Your friend’s ponderance was enough to confirm your suspicions and cause your stomach to flip. A small smile spread across your face and you see Jae look at you with a frown on his face. 

“Dude chill, he’s just my drug dealer.” 

His dismissal at the small amount of joy you felt for being flirted with annoyed you that you felt yourself soon go silent besides the odd cough here and there caused by the smoke induced by the joint. 

When he was finally done and you began to walk to the restaurant, you felt yourself picking up your pace, walking far in front of him. When it soon became difficult for even him to keep up with you, he came to the realization that you were upset with him, but nonetheless Jae continued to try to talk and reason with you as you approached the restaurant where you were meeting your friends. 

You didn’t say single word to him until you were sat at the table with everyone and asked him if he wanted to split a mimosa pitcher with you. At your words he felt thankful to know you had let go of what he had said earlier and nodded in agreement. 

“Ooh a mimosa pitcher for y/n? Pinch me because I must be dreaming,” Gretchen said overhearing your conversation with Jae. 

Another one of your college friends Brian laughed, “Yeah but Jae will probably finish most of it. We know y/n can’t really hold her alcohol.”  

Why did everyone suddenly choose today as the day that they would make fun of you? So what maybe you weren’t as crazy as them when it came to certain things, but you weren’t a fucking nun like they were making you out to be. So what you didn’t get blackout drunk at brunch? So what if you got excited about someone flirting with you? Even if he was a drug dealer. 

“That’s not true,” Jae said coming to your defense, clearly trying to make up for how he had upset you earlier, “honestly y/n can drink me under the table.”

Gretchen waved her hand in dismissal, “come on Jae we all know that’s not true. But that’s what we love about her! She’s our sweet pure friend! Every group needs one of those.” 

“If she was pure would she go with me to see my drug dealer?” Jae asked. 

Gretchen smiled, “Jae are you high right now?” 

“Yeah I need it so I can fucking deal with you,” he practically growled. She laughed in response as if he was joking, when he was in fact not. “That’s so funny. It’s not like she would ever buy or do any though.” 

You felt helpless watching this argument – about you – unfold. Moments like this made you feel like maybe you were too nice. Why couldn’t you just say something and defend yourself? Jae shouldn’t be the one doing it. You should be the one arguing with Gretchen. 

“Well who cares because my drug dealer thinks she’s hot!” 

At Jae’s confession you feel everyone turn to look at you as if you can offer some kind of explanation, but you’re just as clueless as everyone else on the topic of “my best friend’s drug dealer thinking I’m hot.” Jae must really be trying to make up for earlier. 

“It’s true, he just messaged me like 15 minutes confirming he would bang her.”

Your mouth drops open. Turning to look at Jae you can’t tell if he’s being honest or just making things up for the sake of arguing with Gretchen. 

“Okay y/n having sex with a drug dealer is probably the last thing she would ever do.” 

“Um is this a brunch topic?” One of your more silent friends at the table, Mina asked clearly wanting the discussion to be over. 

Finally, you feel like it’s important that you’re the one to end this weird discussion about you having sex at 11am at brunch. You rolled your eyes, “I am not some untouched Mother Theresa, Gretch.” She flinched at the nick name; you knew how much she hated being called that. 

“I mean you what? Have had sex with only two people? Both who you had long term relationships with? That sounds pretty untouched to me.” 

The table shifts uncomfortably and no one says anything in response, it isn’t until the waiter approaches the table to ask everyone if they’re ready to order that you feel yourself snap back into reality. 

“A mimosa pitcher please,” Jae ordered and soon all eyes are on you as the waiter waits for your response, “add one more pitcher to that.” 

Jae leans over to you, “we don’t need two.” 

You smiled at him, “no this one’s for me.” 

-- 

After the “discussion” at brunch, the atmosphere between you and everyone else clearly shifted. You predicted that they probably wouldn’t be calling you to get together for a while. For that you were thankful. 

Both you and Jae headed to your apartment in silence and you tried not to be fixated on the topic of your sex life and how “pure” and “good” you were, but your mind kept lingering there. It infuriated you how much you cared, because you knew deep down it really didn’t matter. It caused you to feel off for the rest of the day. So much so that it felt as though you blinked and it was suddenly dark outside. Brunch had been hours ago, but you were still you were thinking about the words exchanged. 

“Hey um… I was wondering… can I have his number?” 

“Whose number?” Jae asked barely paying attention to you. He leans against your bed on the floor and had been engrossed in a game for the last 45 minutes. 

“Bambam’s…” You said quietly, hoping that maybe just maybe your best friend was in a strong enough trance that he would just hand over the number without registering whose number it was exactly and not ask any questions. But of course, you weren’t so lucky. 

“Really?” He asked placing his phone down in his lap to turn to you laying on the bed, “why?” 

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, not wanting Jae to see just how nervous you were, “I don’t know… Maybe I want to like pick up or something.”

He snorted, “Y/N… You don’t do drugs.” 

“Okay but maybe I’ll start!” 

He rolls his eyes and picks his phone back up, assumedly to return to his game, “We both know that’s a lie. You’re a goody two shoes and everyone knows it. The way you coughed this morning when I lit up is evidence enough.” 

There it was again. Too nice. Goody two shoes. Pushover. You were so fucking tired of hearing it all today. In fact, you were tired of hearing it all the damn time.

Instead of arguing with Jae, like you knew you should have done, you found yourself rolling over to stare at the ceiling of your bedroom, “You’re right… I’m just a good little girl,” you mumbled. Silence soon filled the room and Jae felt himself tense up; he couldn’t deal with you being upset again. Rolling his eyes, he swiped up on his phone to exit his game and searched through his contacts.

You suddenly felt something being nudged against your body and looked to your side to see Jae’s phone open with the contact “BAMBAM (PLUG)” glowing up at you. 

“I don’t know why you really need it, but there it is.” You smiled at your best friend and sat up quickly to copy the contact into your own phone, “thank you Jae.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Later after Jae’s departure, you find your thumb hovering over Bambam’s number. Would it be too much to call? He probably wasn’t used to it in his line of business… Maybe it was just usually a texting thing? 

To be completely honest you weren’t sure why you wanted his number… You weren’t sure if it was for drugs to prove everyone wrong, that you can in fact be bad or if it was for something… else. You thought about what Jae said at brunch… Did Bambam really text him that he would bang you? Did you want that? 

The idea of having sex with Bambam certainly didn’t disgust or repulse you, instead you actually found yourself blushing at the thought and pressing your thighs together. 

Holding your breath, you clicked his number and opened a new message. 

y/n. hey… bambam. It’s y/n… Jae’s friend? We met in the park today… 

bambam. Oh hey sup? 

y/n. was just wondering… if maybe I could like idk pick up? 

bambam. Ummm…. Hold on a sec. 

You waited for what felt like eternity… He was putting you on hold? On hold through a text? 

bambam. What do u need? 

y/n. uh whatever you have on you I guess. Or like in stock ? is that how it works? 

bambam. Haha something like that. I have mj, addy, coke, k, oxy lol pretty much anything u want. But like I said earlier today I’m out of acid and molly till next week. 

y/n. yeah yeah yeah… okay. What’s k? 

bambam. haha you’re so cute. It’s ket. 

y/n. ?????? 

bambam. Ketamine. Horse tranquilizer.

y/n. okay… well I will not be doing that one. Can you just bring like a couple things and I’ll decide when we meet? 

bambam. Um????? I guess so?? 

y/n. cool. 

bambam. I’ll meet you at the park, I guess? In around an hour? 

y/n. yeah that sounds good! 

bambam. Bet. 

You felt your heart beat out of your chest. Were you really just going to do this? What is it that you were going to do? 

Looking at the time on your phone, you realized you needed to get ready and leave quickly if you wanted to meet Bambam on time. It was going to take you at least 40 minutes to walk to the park where you had met him earlier. Walking instead of calling an Uber would give you enough time to think, but also enough time to perhaps talk yourself out of it if you changed your mind mid-journey.

Although somehow, it hadn’t. Your mind on the walk over had been filled with Bambam, but not in a negative way that convinced you to turn around and head home… but in a way that had your core pulsing. You thought of what he had said to Jae earlier – true or not – and how he would take you if that’s what he wanted. It made your mind hazy and the lust that took over your thoughts caused you to barely notice that you had arrived at the park, Bambam already seated on the bench that you had been massaging your legs on earlier that morning. 

He was sporting the same outfit he had been wearing earlier – a satin striped button up shirt tucked into tight black jeans and his clothing was enough to remind you of the reality of what you were doing here. To your dismay he was no longer wearing the glasses, in the fantasies that had fluttered into your mind on your walk, you had really grown in wanting to see Bambam’s glasses on as he fucked into you.

Approaching him, you shyly waved and he stood up to greet you, “hey…” 

“Hi,” you replied feeling foolish at your choice of welcome. What were you supposed to say to seem more… cool? 

“I don’t usually don’t take drop offs this late at night…” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at him confused, “what? You’re a drug dealer… Isn’t night the best kind of time to do this stuff?” 

“Nah night I work on my music. So, what’s up… You change your mind?” He tapped his foot impatiently and you can’t tell if he’s nervous about being in your presence or if he’s annoyed that you called him out here so late. But if he didn’t want to come… why would he? You took a deep breath in, hoping you were doing the right thing, “No… I-I lied I don’t want to pick up. I just- wanted to see you I guess?” 

Even in the darkness of the park, you could see Bambam’s eyes widen in surprise, “see me? Why?” 

You’re really not sure what’s supposed to happen next. You’ve never been in this situation before and although it seems like all of your friends' words drove you to text Bambam and come here, it was your own needs that were driving you to stay. 

Deciding to take a risk with your questioning, you looked away from him, “Is what you sent to Jae true?” Bambam quickly blinked, unsure of how to respond to your question. He wasn’t sure if he needed to be honest or not. Were you mad at him for what he had said? 

Instead, he clears his throat and decides it’s always best to tell the truth, “Um yeah what I said is true…” 

You felt your stomach flip at the fact that the text Jae received was in fact true.

“Do you… still want to?” You asked shyly, still not daring to make eye contact with the beautiful man. 

Bambam’s cock twitches at your question. Suddenly his jeans feel way too tight. 

“Fuck yes,” Bambam replied, voice low and husky. It takes everything in him to not lunge forward and have his hands roam up and down your body, but he restrains himself, “where should we go? Mine? Yours?” 

“Let’s do it here.” 

Your words surprise both Bambam and you, but you ultimately decide to go with it. 

“Here?” he asked, interrogating whether or not you were being serious. What if this was a joke? Before you can stop yourself, you nod, “yeah, here.” 

He takes a step closer to you, until his hand moves forward to cup your face, “I knew you were bad girl when I met you.” His words go right to your core and you feel your panties grow damp. Typically, you would find that kind of talk cringe, but coming out of Bambam’s mouth all you wanted was to hear more of it. 

Instinctively, Bambam groans at the thought of having his way with you, and he uses his free hand to grip your hip, hard enough to bruise and pulls you flush against his chest. He doesn’t hesitate as he leans in to press his lips to yours in a feverish kiss that leaves you breathless. His confidence surprises you, but also turns you on enough that you instantly moan against his lips. 

You feel him smile and it feels as though you’re in an entirely different world than just a park square in the middle of the city. Bambam’s tongue brushes the seam of your lips before his tongue slips inside to explore your mouth. You feel him begin to pull you into the depths of the park, closer to the trees where it would be less visible if someone just so happened to decide to walk through.

The two of you stand there for what felt like forever and you feel surprised at Bambam’s clear want of wanting to take his time with you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh roughly as he makes himself familiar with your taste. He pulls himself away from the kiss, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. You whined at the loss of his lips on yours, but he simply stares at you, taking in your kiss swollen lips and the lust-filled look in your eyes. He had to admit that it was difficult to believe that the girl in front of him now was the same shy girl he had met earlier, but knowing you had this side to you made him want you even more. He drops his head to press his lips to your neck and you can feel his teeth scraping the sensitive skin on the column of your throat as his hands move to dip beneath the hem of your shirt.

After leaving a few marks, he pulls away just enough to tug the t-shirt up and over your head before his hands move to cup your bare breasts. Not wearing a bra was probably the best idea you had all week. 

“Fuck… y/n your tits are so pretty,” he breathes against your skin as he returns his mouth to your neck, “I could just play with them all night.” 

As he gently kneads your breasts, you feel yourself clench around nothing. You were overly sensitive from not being touched like this in so long, that you felt as though you could cum just from his hands on your breasts. 

You attempt to focus on the kiss in an effort to control yourself from not letting go so easily, but soon Bambam’s hands release your breasts and seamlessly drag down your stomach to the button on your jeans. He snaps them open instantly and hooks his thumbs on either side, shoving them down, along with your panties, down your legs. Your sudden nakedness causes you to shiver as you feel the cool breeze of the summer night drift over you body. Bambam notices this and places his finger against your lips, “shh baby girl let me warm you up.” 

Reattaching his lips to yours, Bambam gently pushes you against the tree behind you and you feel his fingers drift to your core and swirl around your entrance. The feeling of him where you need him the most is enough to cause you to moan and you can’t help but notice how he disconnects from your lips when he feels at how wet you are. 

“Jesus y/n, you’re so wet. Are you sure you didn’t cum already?” 

Wordlessly you shake your head almost violently to tell him you hadn’t. 

“I don’t know if I believe you… a bad girl like you might lie,” you feel one of his digits slip into your slightly, only part of the way but not fully and you feel as though you’re about to scream at the teasing. You should have known that Bambam wouldn’t give you want you wanted that easily. 

“I-I’m not lying,” you stuttered out between your attempts to hold your moans back. 

He fully inserts the finger into you, curling it a bit and you can no longer stop the noises that want to leave your body, “If you’re not lying, I guess I just have to see what my baby girl looks like when she cums. How wet she gets, how tight around me, hmm?” You can’t find it in you to respond, you simply nod and he smirks at you, clearly proud at his efforts to make you so weak so quickly. 

It isn’t long before, without warning, you feel him insert a second finger, pumping them inside you at a teasingly slow pace. You felt like you were going to break, because you just needed more. 

“Bam p-please I-I need more.” 

He played dumb, frowning at you, “need more what?” 

“Faster, more,” you manage to breathe out and without a word he picks up the pace of his movement, a smirk on his face and lust in his gaze. It’s when he suddenly curls his digits, hitting just the right spot that you feel like all sanity and speech has left your body. How can something feel this good? 

“Come on, cum on my fingers. I know that’s all you want. I’ll let my bad girl have what she wants, just this once.” 

His words spur you on as you find your arms moving to the back of you to grip onto the tree for stability as you buck your hips further onto his fingers, wanting nothing more than in this moment to have a release. The combined effort of his finger curling and his thumb coming up to tap on your clit in an almost musical rhythm has you falling apart and releasing around his fingers. He can feel the shaking of your thighs and the tension of your body as his fingers work to let you ride the waves of your orgasm. 

Bambam’s length which had been growing hard since the moment you asked if he wanted to fuck you, suddenly felt painful as he watched you fall apart from just the pure pleasure he had caused. He couldn’t wait any longer, he wanted and needed to be inside you. 

“Ride me,” Bambam says without hesitation as soon as you’ve caught your breath from your orgasm. Despite your release which had only occurred moments ago, you felt yourself ready to go once again at Bambam’s words and at how quickly he worked to remove his clothes. 

Instinctively, you licked your lips as you first laid eyes on his painfully hard and leaking red cock which had been desperately waiting for its turn. You wanted nothing more than to get your mouth or hands on it – preferably mouth – but as you reach forward, Bambam shook his head. 

He sat himself against the tree, not caring about the fact that he was sitting on the actual ground in the middle of a public park. The only thought he had in his mind was getting inside of you and feeling how tight you would be when you sank down on him for the first time. 

“Baby girl, let me feel you.” 

That’s all it took for you to get into position and find yourself squatting down to sit in his lap, rubbing your slit against the head of his cock, ready to take in every single inch of him. At the feeling of you rubbing yourself against his sensitive cock, Bambam groans, “no teasing, I just need you. Please.” 

His begging and more submissive request turns you on and it leads you to wonder if maybe that would be a side of yourself you would want to explore later. But for now, you just needed to feel him inside of you. 

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, moaning at how good it felt to finally have him around you, stretching you out completely. It had been awhile since your last sexual encounter and with the way Bambam was filling you, it almost felt like your first time again – this time there was no pain however, only pleasure. “Fuck… Bam.” 

You just sat there for a moment, enjoying the feeling, until you felt him ever so slightly shift and then heard a groan. His hands instinctively landed on your hips as he attempted to get you to move, he almost couldn’t take how snug you felt around him, he wanted you bouncing up and down on him at a brutal pace. Understanding his want, you lifted your hips barely an inch before falling back down on him. Every time you did it you went a little bit higher. 

“Come on I know you can do better than that,” Bambam egged you on despite his groans. At his words you leaned back, placing your hands on his thighs, giving him a much deeper angle into you. As you rode him like this, he began to thrust up meeting your hips and every time he did his cock hit a spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back into your head. 

Your movement on him began to grow sloppier as a shot of pleasure made itself known throughout every part of your body. At your sudden change of pace, Bambam held your hips to continue moving you up and down on him, his own thrusting becoming faster. “You feel so fucking good. Damn maybe I should just stop working and fuck you all day,” you felt yourself clench at his words and he continued, “you’d like that huh? I can feel how tight you’re getting just at the thought of me using you and filling you with my cum every single day. Such a dirty girl.” 

You could feel your walls clench, and Bambam let out a groan having to thrust harder just to keep going as deep, “I’m- gonna- fuck.” 

Somehow, not out of breath, Bambam whispered into your ear, “You’re gonna what? Cum? Do it… Cum all over me in this fucking park where anyone can see. I know how much want it so just fucking do it.” 

You were seeing stars and your thighs were shaking once again when Bambam reached in between your bodies, pinching your clit, finally making you fall apart. Although you had once been concerned about being loud because of the public aspect of your location, you found yourself unable to contain your screams when your orgasm hit you. You could feel your juices dripping down onto his thighs as he pulled out of you and pumped himself one final time, released his seed onto your stomach and chest. As he caught his breathe, you dipped your finger into his release which had begun to drip down to your thighs. Placing it into your mouth, you suck it gently. “Mmmm,” you moaned at the taste and Bambam stared at you wide eyed. “Um fuck… should we do a round two?” 

You laugh at his response and the lustful gaze that still clouds his eyes, “maybe… not here?” 

Bambam grasps his discarded shirt and begins to wipe up the mess he left on your body, as well as the mess you left on his thighs. The gesture warms your heart. 

He hums in response, almost lost in a trance as he wipes you up. “I mean… I know I’m just a drug dealer,” he said laughing, “but how about I take you out for a late night dinner slash early breakfast and then we have a round two where I enter you from the oh so classy doggy style position?” 

You laugh and grab his hands, stopping him from continuing to wipe you up, causing him to look into your eyes. 

“Deal.”

[figula]

this week -

1. ive been doing a LOT better - that’s one of the good things about my madness - i go down very quickly but also rebound pretty fast. i think the one thing that bothers me is the memory of when things were bad for like a good year, and there was no rebounding, just a slow crawl out of the worst of it. HOWEVER - I haven’t been like long-term non-functional in literally like 10y and i think it’s probably a mistake to worry so much about the possibility of the next breadown being The Next Big One bc i think my life is so different now to when it was back then that it’s unlikely to become quite so bad anyway

2. not having a wall is really bothering me tho. one of my long-term obsessive thoughts is about the cat’s safety - i get very obsessive about the idea that she might somehow get trapped outside, which even when we had a garden wall to separate her from the road was a problem, so now w/o the wall it’s 10x worse lol. no idea when it’ll be fixed and she’ll be able to go outside again - the builder has to do another project first so we’re in limbo until then. i get very fixated on the idea that ben or ana will accidentally let her out and not notice and she’ll be cold / attacked by another cat / attacked by a fox :((( which is another facet of my obsessions tbh like this lack of ability to trust anyone apart from myself, like i have this really overinflated idea of my own responsibility / ability to keep the house safe (hence going around at night and unplugging everything, checking the front door, staring at my hair straighteners for about 10m, the usual) and like i wish i could just fucking stop bc i know ana and ben also love the cat and also like have brains?? and like keeping a cat inside is not rocket science! (+ hopefully even if she did get outside it would not end up in her death lol)

3. ben (kindly) told me that he finds it disheartening that it becomes an Issue every time we have to go and see his family, and that whilst he understands it’s not personal, it still feels bad. which is fair... i apologised about it bc i mean he is right + also he comes and sees my family w/ literally no complaint at all so yeah :/ having said this im a bit fuckin nervous about it now for imo legitimate reasons (i have accepted we’re going + that my problems dont constitute a reason to complain about seeing his family and am planning on being much less whiny about this in future) about this new fucking variant and like 10 mask-free people in one room hanging out, at least half of whom are in public-facing jobs. this is the first time since-covid so many of us would have been in a room - we’ve seen barely anyone since it all kicked off. the timing is bad. i know ben agrees w/ me about the concern bc he’s not an idiot, and he asked them on the GC last night if they can all test beforehand, but only one person responded so far and im a bit like :/ i feel uncomfortable about it bc i feel that after my complaints it definitely seems as tho im just trying to find reasons to not go. if they all test up beforehand im happy to go, but im a bit worried that a lot of them have not confirmed that they will, and idk, ill ask him what he thinks about that. bc his brother works in a shop, his mum works as a teacher, this new variant is supposed to be better at getting past vaccines? so im a bit like oooof this ... not great ... i feel like it’s reasonable to only go to a medium scale get-together if everyone tests neg beforehand? what do you guys think? but i dunno i guess at some point you also have to just do stuff... like you can’t entirely live under the shadow of stuff that might happen, including covid, and this is coming from someone who’s been INCREDIBLY careful the entire time

4. i have struggled w/ getting back to my wig work - im gonna start working properly again today bc im actually so behind. my site job also MAY be coming to an end in april - we will all have to reapply for the payment, and i don’t know, they may well feel it’s fairer to give someone a shot who hasn’t been paid for an entire year by that point. which i DO think is fair, and i would understand it, but i would have to take a MASSIVE step back from the site, and it feels kinda grim if they essentially fire their One Woman, given that ive done everything asked of me and am always well-ranked in the monthly numbers. i will probably make this clear in the reapplication - that i will not be around if there is no money. not bc i don’t care but bc i do not have the time. couple of things are working in my favour tho in that ive already proven myself to be a good member of the team + also that im one of the most highly-ranked people there in terms of permissions, so i can do everything rather than some more lowly-ranked people who can only do a few things. also you know. i feel like they would be aware of how bad it would look to let their one woman go honestly? bc they handwring a lot about the woman situation, so im curious how this will play out, bc to me it seems blindingly obvious that a lack of access to resources is one of the main reasons why more women dont hang out there. so im curious if they are gonna actually apply that logic and keep paying me.

[gottagobuycheese]

4, 5, 7 for the writing meme. Thanks!

(Writing meme)

Thank YOU for indulging me with these questions, and sorry for taking so long to answer! What is possibly my final finals season just about wrapped up, and I couldn’t think about anything else until it did (so fingers crossed it really has wrapped up lmao). So without further ado, here are some unnecessarily long answers!

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Ideas as in “I am actively working on this/making notes about it” or ideas as in “I have daydreamed about it at least once”? Because there’s…definitely way more of the second than the first lol.

But if we’re talking the former, then the thing that’s currently gripping my mind is a (hopefully) short post-true ending Undertale fic in which Undyne and Asgore catch up over tea and somehow get around to talking about the nature of human souls and what it what it takes to actually collect one (i.e. what it took to really, truly perma-kill a human). The problem is I don’t remember how much each character actually knows about the subject, so I’m rewatching a pacifist playthrough as “research” — and also falling back headfirst into the vast plethora of content that exists for the source material, predictably. It’s been a good few years since I was this fixated on it, which is great news for me because there is SO MUCH stuff to catch up on! (Tangentially, I guess it was kind of predictable, since I always seem to fall back into some kind of comfort video game around finals season, but usually it’s Ace Attorney, so this is new.)

In terms of the second, an idea that has been pretty solidly in daydream territory for a while is some kind of Stranger x Nobody Knows crossover fic in which (Senior) Inspector Han and (possibly former) Detective Cha cross paths for some reason. I have no idea what I’d want from it plot/content-wise, so I doubt it’ll ever be much more than a vaguely entertaining impression in my head, but I just think it’d be cool to see those two interact XD

Sadly neither of these things are the things I’m ACTUALLY supposed to be working on, so they probably (hopefully) won’t be done for a while.

5. Share one of your strengths.


Ah, one of my least favorite interview questions. Uh, I guess I have fun writing dialogue, and it definitely tends to come easier than other aspects of writing (like DESCRIPTION, blegh). Plus I have been told that it makes people laugh sometimes, which is usually my goal — or makes them feel Painful Feelings, which is my other goal that unfortunately rarely makes it to the publishing phase — so I will count that as a success! And therefore a strength of some sort.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.


Oof, this is a hard one, haha. There is a subtle yet important difference between saying why you like something versus saying why you’re proud of something, but I shall try to veer more toward the latter since that’s the actual question.

As it turns out, being more comfortable with dialogue means that most of my stories end up being pretty dialogue-heavy, which I just discovered when flicking through fics to borrow a snippet from, but if we’re going with strictly prose, then this bit from a long-ish comedic Good Omens fic I still haven’t figured out all the plot points to was fun to write: 


In literature, funerals are often held in the pouring rain. This is because, in literature, authors can carefully describe how grief-stricken the attendees are, how their water-logged clothes, heavy and cold, cannot begin to compare to the weight of the sorrow that drags them down, how it pulls at their body, hangs from their shoulders and backs and legs and soul, begging them to join their loved ones in the ground. They can describe how the heavens themselves weep for the dead, that the earth, for once, pauses in its frantic flurry of activity, takes a moment to mourn what it has lost, and grieve for those who are left behind.

Of course, grief is complicated. Authors understand this. Sometimes the attendees are angry, and so the funerals are sunny, and the attendees are angry because the world dares to keep spinning on its axis even when theirs has ground to a halt. They are angry because the heavens won’t hide their tears for them, won’t admit they did something wrong, taking away someone who was so loved, so cherished, so good. They are angry because their heartache isn’t enough, doesn’t nearly encompass the gaping void torn in their reality, doesn’t do the dead justice. The earth and the skies and the seas ought to be mad with grief as well. Thunderstorms, gale-force winds, surging tides and shaking stone. How dare the world imply it’s no great loss?

Or maybe the funerals are held in the snow, because grief is cold and numbing and relentless, and no amount of warm soup or thick blankets or knitted mittens will make it better, fill the hollow misery the way one can fill a grave with soil and ice crystals. No one really wants to be there, socks soaked through and half-asleep from the chill, but sometimes you need to slog your way through those waist-deep banks of grief anyway, that frigid, dull, powder-white pain, focus only on how your teeth chatter and your fingertips turn blue and put all the rest of it aside for later, when it’s warm again. If it will ever be warm again.

Or perhaps the author just likes snow.

I get to ramble about some of my favorite kinds of weather for three paragraphs?? Count me IN

Anyways, I think it did a good job of keeping with the vaguely whimsical tone of the rest of the story, despite this being the opening to a (fake) funeral scene. And yeah, maybe it’s a bit excessive and heavy-handed, but it fits the context well enough and has some actual Imagery™, not to mention that it actually segues somewhat neatly into the next bit, so I think it did its job — which is all I can really ask for, so I’ll be proud of that! It’s a bit of a narrative reprieve from the dialogue-and-emotions heavy previous scene and the comedic shenanigans of the subsequent scene. Which would probably also be quite dialogue heavy, except for the part where I haven’t written it yet sjkdhfskf

[strawberrytheduck]

Belle Quacks-Chapter 14

Four months had passed since the Negaduck incident passed. She had been going to therapy once a week before meeting Morgana, Camellia or Quackerjack and Megavolt. Belle had been trying to grasp a lot of things in her life, mostly the changes in the past four months. She always kept mini Quacky with her, often out of site, helping her stay grounded and remind her he was back and mostly okay. Morgana would cheer her up at every opportunity, taking her to carnivals, parties or just to the cafe. It helped her build confidence in herself to the point she had gained a little more weight and go back to her natural colour. Camellia had too as they both dyed their hair together, usually after Belle had a meltdown and Camellia had a stressful day to the point of crying. Her natural hair reminded her of her dad but she knew it wasn’t healthy for her hair to dye it constantly so she decided to return to her light orange hair for a little while. Camellia had also recently got a boyfriend, the plant villain himself, Bushroot. She was happy for Camellia and yet, also jealous. Why though? She didn’t like him like that, she had her brother, his partner, his partner’s younger twin siblings and more confidence than she ever had before. Camellia was prettier than her but that wasn’t it. She got jealous around her brother and Megavolt, which made no sense to her since they were together before Belle saw Jack again. This had been something she had noticed recently, anytime she’d see a happy couple, she’d feel jealous. There seemed to be no reason why. After her therapy session, she met with Elmo at the cafe. “Heya sis!” He greeted, waving her over.

She put on her most convincing smile before sitting in front of him. “Hey, did ya do somethin’ different to your hair?” He asked, scratching his head before adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, I stopped dying it, I wanted to give my hair a break. Why? Does it look bad?” Megavolt shook his head, reaching to hold her hand and telling her it looks great. Her and the supercharged rodent rarely spoke one-on-one, this was a little strange to her but she welcomed it, happy to know her brother’s boyfriend better. “Hey, you don’t seem as talkative as usual. Is something wrong?” He asked, sincerely looking at the duck. She opened the flood gates, explaining her sudden jealous wave. How despite how happy she was for the people she loved, that she envied them and wasn’t sure why. Belle also explained, seemingly on a tangent how she felt around Morgana, how she felt weak in the knees and sick around her. Megavolt simply rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, letting her talk. “Is something else wrong with me?” She asked, tears threatening to fall. Elmo assured her there was nothing wrong, saying he’d been feeling the same she felt around Morgana around Quackerjack before they were dating. He told her to explain just what she thought of Morgana, hoping to help her pin it down. The way Belle talked about the sorceress was pure adoration and she was absolutely smitten. Her cheeks steadily went from white to pink, her eyes filled with a galaxy worth of stars. ‘Oh, she’s in love.’ He thought. Once she stopped, she apologized for how long she went on for.

“No, that was fine, perfect even. I know what’s eating you, just what I suspected.” She looked at him confused. When he explained, she felt like she got hit by a train. “You’re in love with Morgana.” What? In love? She couldn’t be, Morgana was a friend. No, that term was wrong. Wait, why would it be wrong? They were friends! And yet, Belle could easily see herself doing everything Camellia and Bushroot did. Sleepy, early morning kisses, movie nights where they would cuddle on the couch, holding hands innocently and sharing a bed and just looking each other in the eyes, talking in a hushed tone so as to ease each other to sleep. Oh wait, those were couple things. Things people did when in love with each other. And she wanted to do all of that and more with the sorceress. That’s why she felt that way around the sorceress, she wanted to pursue a relationship with her? As she was thinking, she felt someone hug her. She looked up to see her brother, completely unassuming looking in terms of clothing, his hair in a messy bun. “Hiya Belle, hey Sparky.” Belle kind of just nuzzled her brother, whimpering a little. “I think she finally realized she’s in love with Morgana.” Megavolt stated. An exasperated sigh came from the older duck, along with a “Finally”. It had been that obvious? How come she didn’t know? “Trust me, Elmo didn’t realize he was in love with me for ages either.” That did make her feel a little better. “Morgana really likes you Belle, I could see it in the way she looks at you, go for it.” The rodent suggested. Belle would, just tomorrow when she would be staying with Morgana for a week while they did some construction in her apartment.

Tomorrow came faster than she wanted it to, she was glad Megavolt was helping her take her necessities to Morgana’s place though. “You’ll be fine Jingles, even if she somehow didn’t feel the same, she’d be respectful and still care about you. There’s nothing that can go wrong.” He said as he drove her to the sorceress’ place. This was still a lot to take in, a lot to consider. What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she gets kicked out? What if Morgana hates her? The front door opened to reveal a small, slightly monstrous woman. Belle yelped a little in surprise. “Hi, we’re here to see Morgana.” Megavolt said, perfectly calm. “Granny, I thought you said you were going to lie down.” Morgana said, standing in the door frame. The woman nodded, eyeing Belle in a strange way before leaving. “Sorry about that Belle, she’s also staying with me for a little bit. She won’t hurt you, don’t worry. Let me help you with your stuff.” She said, laughing a little nervously. “Don’t worry, just be yourself. Smile, be genuine. You’ve got this.” Elmo said, gently grabbing her by the shoulders. Belle smiled, straightening her posture. She waved goodbye, following Morgana into the house. “Make yourself at home, Granny won’t bother you too much. There’s multiple guest rooms, just pick one you like.” Morgana explained, smiling warmly, her cheeks rosy. “C-Could I sleep with you? J-Just because i-it’s my first time here.” She asked the taller woman. Morgana nodded, hugging her. The two talked about the next week, figuring out what they should do. Morgana wanted a horror movie marathon and Belle wanted to do some baking, having fixated on it recently. Morgana agreed, saying there was plenty of time for both of those. “I’m glad you let me stay here, I’m happy for Cammy but I can’t stand watching her and Bushroot be all lovey dovey.” Belle said.

“Oh, they’re dating? I should’ve seen that coming. What about you, do you have a girlfriend?” She asked. Silence. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked.’ Morgana thought. “No, I am interested in someone though.” She has to tell her, rip off the bandaid, face the music. Just then, luckily, Morgana’s granny appeared again. “Who even is this Morgana? I won’t rest until I have answers!” She asked, almost shrieking at them. “Sorry, Granny isn’t a fan of outsiders. Granny, this is Belle, a friend of mine.” Belle held out her hand towards the older woman. She took it, shaking it but eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am, I like your obsidian necklace.” The redhead said. “Oh, you know what stone it is?” Belle nodded. “I’ve made a few obsidian necklaces before myself, I know a lot about gemstones and crystals. It looks a little weathered and damaged, is it an heirloom?” Surprisingly, Morgana’s granny warmed up to her a little, she did think she spoke a lot and was a little weird, even by their standards. Belle had to explain her brain didn’t work the same as hers or Morgana’s, to which she nodded, understanding then shrugged. She didn’t fully trust her but she didn’t mind her, seeing her as no threat. Morgana wrapped an arm around Belle. “She’s not usually that nice to outsiders. She may not like you necessarily but you’re fine, she just needs to know you’re not Magica De Spell or something.” She’s okay with that, knowing Morgana didn’t come from a normal upbringing. Still, there was something she had to do. “U-Um, Morg... T-There’s something I-I-I have to t-tell you.” She flapped her hands a little, trying to keep herself calm. “Yes?”

“W-Well, um, I-I-I’m in l-love w-w-with you. You’re r-really sweet and p-p-p-pretty and clever a-and u-u-understanding.”

[cloaked-saurosuchus]

Interview with a fanfic author tag

I got 'tagged' by @blaiddsumu! and by that I mean i stole it. yoink

1. Your favorite fic that you’ve written (or just one you want to give a shout out to).

From finished ones: definitely Narrators. For what an impulsive oddity it was for me (2nd person what?) and when re-reading I'd change some small things but I?? still Really like it? It feels like I actually managed to get down the emotion I wanted in a short self-contained thing which is both pretty rare for me lol.

From WIPs y'all know Two Deaths lives in my brain rent free and is arguably my fav (even though I haven't even posted my favourite parts so far and they seem so far away and I'm Suffering(tm))

2. Your favorite fic title that you’ve come up with.

uhuh I'm horrid at coming up with titles. Probably In Search Of bcs it goes along with the chapter names (In Search Of A Reason, In Search Of An Engineer etc.)? It took me an actual year after posting the first part of it to actually come up with that title though lol. or Eye Can't See You bcs it's horrible pun fhkah

3. How do you get inspiration to write?

tangent brain. whatever I'm thinking about (or reading or really ANYTHING) and fixating on will inevitably leak into each other and produce story ideas. and I need to get these ideas Out somehow or they will stew in the back of my brain forever. the entirety of Two Deaths is a massive tangent about a trying a different spin on [wait no this is probably a spoiler].

also music? lots of music. i tend to listen heavily to a single album/interpret at a time, so my brain inevitably comes up with interpretations of songs that can be spun into stories, hehe.

4. Your favorite genre/subgenre of fic to write.

Uh?? Fluff I guess? and whatever the hell would two deaths get categorized as. longform hurt/comfort?? PROBABLY? uuh. i always feel weird putting a genre to my stuff so idk though really

5. Do you have other hobbies?

I Make stuff in general! Most notably it's drawing and programming, but I also play and compose for piano/pipe organ from time to time and recently I've gotten into cross-stitch and I've been looking into 3D-printing and just sewing in general. I tend to bounce around hobbies a lot though, so the ones staying are really just. Drawing and pipe organs.

6. A fun fact about you that a lot of people may not know.

Buuh. Um. If I finish my current uni course, I'll get a Mgr. (Magister) title and not Ing. (engineer) title even though I'm studying a very much tech-field that usually gets the engineer treatment and I think that's incredibly funny. At a certain point it looked like my sis might try for an Ing. from a social field and it was hilarious. we decided we'd make "trust me I'm an engineer" jokes to maximize confusing the hell out of people

that fell through and now neither of us will be able to make trust me I'm an engineer jokes u_u

8. Favorite genre of music.

genres are a scam that I don't understand and my favourite genre is not going to really map onto the music I listen to the most so uh

swing and electro swing.

9. Your favorite singer/band.

I don't really have absolute favourites, more like. Cycling through interprets depending on how I'm feeling. The Oh Hellos, Cosmo Sheldrake and Lord Huron are evergreens I keep coming back to. And Switchfoot.

Currently also listening to a Lot of IDKHBTFM, Mother Mother and The Hoosiers.

10. And finally, how has your experience in fandom been?

Pretty chill! Met a whole bunch of cool people! It probably helped that I only really actively entered the UT fandom last year (after the initial hype died down and also like. I Know what I want to avoid now and I do just that) and my previous fandom was Ranger's Apprentice, which was small and constructive, and based on a canon that is decidedly Not drowned in 3-4 layers of meta keeping things pretty sane when it comes to weird characterizations that would irk me. (moving into ut from that was Quite A Shock, dare I say.)

Tagging: uuh y'all know I don't tag people fhajksh if you see this and write, consider yourself Tagged (and feel free to tag me bcs I wanna See)

[reyescarlos]

can i be him || a tarlos fic

chapter 3/4 word count: 5.5k~  || read on ao3

'Cause a light came on when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me Like it was a private show, I know you never saw me

It had taken Carlos forever to go to bed last night. He felt wired from his day spent with TK. It certainly didn’t help his mind relax to be lying right next to him. Sleeping beside him was nothing new but he couldn’t quiet his thoughts. His mind ran back throughout their day, retracing every step from the moment TK picked him up. Going into it, Carlos of course knew that TK had taken this outing seriously. Things between them had felt a bit off over the last few weeks but it was obvious that TK had meant every word he said during their call.

It’d only made Carlos all the more excited to see his friend. Ultimately, it didn’t matter what TK had in store. All Carlos truly cared about was the fact that they would have one on one time. The only notice TK had given him was that he would be taking advantage of both of Carlos’ days off. An overnight trip of any kind sounded ideal, getting the chance to extend the amount of time he’d be able to have TK to himself.

As TK drove, Carlos watched the scenery from the car window, his brow lifting as he began to guess at where TK was taking him.

“McKinney, huh?” he’d said with a smirk, so confident that he was right.

TK let out a sigh and jokingly rolled his eyes. “I figured I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret for much longer at this point but yes. I know how much you love that place and I really wanted today to be special so, yeah. Decided I’d go with one of your favorites. It’s still been a while, right?”

Though being a resident of Travis County felt like living within a snow globe at times, Carlos could appreciate the facets of life there that somehow managed to make it feel much larger than it actually was. McKinney Falls State Park wasn’t far from either of their homes at all and yet, it was a place Carlos didn’t get out to as much as he would like. Luckily, TK was there to remedy this problem. Carlos couldn’t remember the last time he’d been there which seemed criminal given how incredible the park was with picturesque trails and stunning waterfalls.

“You chose well. It’s been months.”

TK had beamed, clearly appreciative of Carlos’ seal of approval. Carlos studied his profile for a moment, fixating briefly on the way TK’s smile still lingered on his lips like he was holding onto some private joke. Carlos forced himself to look away, back out at the thicket of trees that line the road as TK brought them closer to the state park. The journey wasn’t a long one, further prompting Carlos to wonder why he hadn’t made any real effort to come out here more often.

But he quickly did away with chiding himself. Had he not put off visiting, he wouldn’t be able to share this moment with TK. Not only was he reuniting with one of his favorite spots in town but he was reconnecting with his favorite person in the world.

Once they arrived, TK found a spot for them on the grounds, killed the engine, and flashed Carlos a bright smile.

“Come on. Those trails aren’t going to hike themselves.”

Carlos exited the car, coming around the back to meet TK at the trunk. His friend was already pulling out two backpacks by the time he settled in beside him. Carlos accepted the black bag TK gave him, hanging it off his right shoulder as TK closed back the trunk and locked the car.

“You weren’t messing around here, were you?”

TK had slipped his backpack on as well, putting his keys into his pocket.

“I told you this was serious business, didn’t I? Let’s go.”

They’d spent the rest of the day taking advantage of the park, going for a hike and exploring the terrain, relaxing their tired limbs afterwards in the creek, lazily swimming and wading by the park’s upper falls. It had felt as if they’d managed to leave the world behind, the two of them with a stretch of time before them. It’d made Carlos wish for an entire week like this but he was just grateful to know he’d have two days.

They’d come back to their camping site, working together to get their tent set up and spent the night sharing memories under the stars. It was perfect, to say the least. TK had been successful in making this TK and Carlos Day yet another one for the books. To know that it wasn’t over just yet, that they still had one more day in store had kept Carlos up for a while. TK had tuckered out pretty easily, the day’s activities making it so sleep found him effortlessly. Carlos was a different story entirely.

He combed through the day, trying to piece together his thoughts. It’d felt incredible to reconnect with TK again. Out here it was easy to forget why TK had called for something outside of their usual hang outs, to forget that TK was in a relationship, and to forget that he was trying desperately to move on from his decade long attraction to his best friend. Out here they simply existed ast themselves, free from all other titles and obligations.

Waking up this morning to TK’s soft snoring with the early chatter of birds outside their tent felt like waking up and stepping right into a dream. If every morning could be spent like this, Carlos would ask nothing else of the world.

Once they were both awake and fed, they began to break down their campsite, loading the car back up with the tent and supplies.

“What do you say to one last hike before we go?” TK asks as Carlos closes the trunk.

“I say that sounds like a brilliant idea to me.”

As they begin their hike, Carlos can make out the sound of the nearby falls, the rushing water a comforting bit of background noise in his ears. The creek is visible from this trail, running parallel to them as they wind their way through the trees. Carlos is already trying to plan the next time he’ll be able to come back.

“Thanks for bringing us here,” he says.

TK waves him off like it’s not a big deal but Carlos knows his friend well enough to see he’s proud of himself for choosing an outing that Carlos has been enjoying so much.

“No problem at all. We need to get together again soon. How about next Saturday?”

Carlos almost agrees quickly but closes his mouth and shakes his head as he remembers what he’s already agreed to with the one of the guys he matched with recently. Now the guilt of keeping this part of his life under wraps really begins to creep in. Carlos tries to think of a way to lightly breach the subject but he isn’t so sure that there’s a way for this to go that won’t make things a bit awkward.

“Uh, actually can we do a different day? Sunday maybe? I sorta...have plans on Saturday.”

TK’s brows furrow. “What’s with the cloak and dagger act? What’s happening Saturday?”

Carlos shrugs a shoulder as nonchalantly as possible, kicking at a pebble on the pathway. “I’ve got a date.”

TK stops in his tracks, the soles of his shoes scratching against the packed dirt like a needle on a record. There’s an expression in TK’s eyes that Carlos can’t place. If he had to hazard a guess, it would be surprise mixed with confusion. But there’s also an unnamable emotion though it clears before Carlos can put any more thought to it.

“You have a date?” he echoes, his eyes wide and brows raised.

Carlos scoffs, unsure of how he’s supposed to take the clear shock in TK’s voice. Sure, Carlos doesn’t go out with guys as frequently as TK but it still feels like a dig. He stops walking too, still taking in the look on TK’s face. It’s almost like TK doesn’t even recognize him.

“Is it so hard to believe that someone wants to go out with me?”

TK quickly shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

“Of course not, Carlos. That’s not what I...I didn’t mean—I’m just surprised is all. I didn’t even know you were talking to anyone these days, never mind going out on dates and stuff. You never mentioned anything about it. I just...I didn’t know. I didn’t mean anything by that, honestly.”

Carlos surprises himself with how quickly he gets upset by this. He bites his tongue on saying something snappy about TK missing out on a lot lately because he’s so busy with Alex. It’d only lead to even weirder tension than what he’s feeling now between them or, at worst, a fight. That would be a horrible waste of this uninterrupted time with TK. And, to be fair, Carlos wasn’t exactly keen on disclosing this life update with TK. It makes sense why his friend is being thrown for a loop now.

“Then what exactly did you mean?” he asks, trying to keep his tone leveled.

TK falters and breathes unevenly. It’s weird to be at odds with TK and part of Carlos wonders if he’s blowing this out of proportion, projecting but he’s too bothered now to examine it much further.

“Can we please just start over? I’m not trying to upset you here. That’s the last thing I want to do, especially now.”

Carlos looks away, shifting his gaze to the overhang of pouring water, watching as it steadies the second it meets with the creek. Carlos tries to mirror that in his own mood now, letting go of his frustration and settling himself before focusing on TK. His friend looks troubled and unsure of himself. They don’t fight often and this spat, or whatever this exchange could be considered, seemed to spring from nowhere. But Carlos recognizes that he’s let his insecurities get the best of him. This time was meant to be special, a chance for them to reconnect and get back on track. Sowing further division isn’t something he’s aiming for either.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he concedes, reeling himself back in.

TK stares at him for a moment as if gauging whether or not it’s safe to continue. Carlos nods his head once to encourage him to speak again.

“I’m sorry, too. I guess it’s just hitting me all over again how much things have been changing lately and I don’t like it. I want us to spend more time together like before and I want to know what’s going on with you— outside of work stuff, you know? But I guess...it’s pretty much been my fault, huh? I haven’t been around as much. I got used to us telling each other everything.”

Not everything, Carlos thinks bitterly. There’s been this secret he’s kept sealed tight for ages and it’s the kind of truth Carlos isn’t so sure TK would ever want to hear. But he knows what his friend is getting at. There’d been countless times over the years where they’d share the most mundane or ridiculous parts of their day with one another just for the sake of sharing. Carlos entering back into the world of dating was huge but it’d been a facet of his life that he wanted to keep to himself for a little while. Maybe it was selfish or maybe it was healthy, all things considered, but he could see now that it’d hurt TK to be left out.

“I guess we really haven’t been checking in as much these days.” It’s an understatement but Carlos doesn’t want to belabor the point. “And it isn’t dates, plural. It’s just this one coming up. I haven’t found anything serious so far but this guy seemed alright but who knows. You know what the scene is like. All these guys are basically the same on these apps. I’m not sure why I’m even bothering.”

It isn’t exactly the truth but this isn’t a door Carlos can open with TK.

TK’s eyes cast down as he fiddles with the pendant around his neck, his expression clouded.

“I’m really bombing as a best friend nowadays, aren’t I?”

The guilt is clear as day on TK’s face. His index finger scratches at the pendant, a dead giveaway that he’s feeling anxious. Carlos swoops in to settle him instinctively, a reflex that comes all too naturally.

“You’re good. You’re in a relationship now,” he laughs softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Alex is important to you and that’s cool.”

“You’re sweet but I don’t want to be that guy though, you know? The one that ditches his best friend because he’s got a boyfriend. I want to know what’s going on in your life. You’re important to me too, Carlos. You’re the most important person to me, actually. Always. You know that, right?”

Carlos smiles softly at him, bumping his shoulder against TK’s lightly. TK doesn’t engage. His eyes are locked in on Carlos’, completely unswayable.

“I don’t know if it’s supposed to work exactly like that now, T,” Carlos notes.

TK shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re my number one. Even if I’m being a bit of a dick, don’t forget that, okay?”

His face is so serious that Carlos can only nod in agreement. “I won’t, I promise.”

TK sighs, almost in relief and nods once to himself. “Good.”

A silence falls over them as they continue to walk. Carlos keeps his eyes fixed on their surroundings. These last few minutes aside, these two days really have been spectacular.  For as much as he hates being at odds with TK, Carlos is glad they were able to have it out a little. If yesterday was a time for reminiscing about the past, Carlos can appreciate that today was granting them the chance to be open about the present. There’s still so much he wants to get off his chest but the awkwardness is gone now and that had been a source of discomfort. Now Carlos feels as if their friendship has just recalibrated itself. The silence isn’t stiff or rife with tension. It’s just comfortable, a perfect reminder of how easy it is for them to find their way back to one another.

“And for the record,” Carlos says after a moment. “You’ll always be my number one as well...even if you have been a total dick lately,” he continues teasingly, swatting gently at TK’s arm.

TK laughs and Carlos can feel the last veil of nervousness lift off of his best friend at the sound.

“Asshole,” TK grumbles, a smile on his face as he wraps an arm around Carlos’ waist. Carlos doesn’t miss his cue, his arm coming to hang over TK’s shoulders, same as always.

“I’ve missed this,” TK says so quietly that Carlos isn’t sure if his friend is speaking to him or not.

Still he says, “Me too.”

TK looks over at him and smiles even wider and Carlos’ stomach flips as TK burrows into his side perfectly, two puzzle pieces indeed.

~*~*~

Carlos orders himself a beer while he waits for his date, doing his best not to let his eyes fly to the door each time someone comes into the bar. He keeps himself busy with idly looking at his phone, looking at articles, going over texts, anything to steady the crop of nerves in his stomach.

Michelle had messaged him earlier in the day, wishing him luck and urging him to have fun tonight. He wishes that could be the case but time is ticking by, his date seemingly running late.

Carlos checks his phone to see if he’s missed any messages from his date but there’s no new notice, absolutely no indication that the man has reached out to him. The longer he sits, the more Carlos doubts that this night will play out like he’d been picturing. He hadn’t gone into this date with any high hopes but getting stood up definitely wasn’t something he foresaw.

It’s been about thirty minutes now and Carlos still hasn’t heard back from his date. He sends a message that he figures will go unanswered.

“Drinking alone tonight?” the bartender asks as she works the tap.

Carlos chuckles dryly. “Wasn’t exactly the plan but it looks that way now, yeah.”

The bartender gives a small, polite smile and Carlos feels as if he could just die right there on the spot from embarrassment.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think whoever didn’t show is a total idiot,” she says.

It’s enough to make Carlos smile as she wipes at the counter with a rag quickly with a friendly wink before turning her attention to the group of guys that just showed up a few feet from Carlos. He nurses his drink as the bar becomes a bit more crowded with patrons.

This isn’t where he wants to be. It’s starting to feel suffocating being surrounded by people as the Saturday night crowd thickens.

If he were someone else, it would be all too easy to scan the room now and take home the first attractive guy that caught his eye. But that wasn’t who Carlos was, had ever been, or had any intention of being— now more so than ever. He likes actual investments. It wasn’t like him to be bold enough to salvage the night by hooking up with some stranger, even if almost anyone in his shoes would do just that. Carlos’ focus is completely shot but he manages to pull himself together enough to pay for the drinks he’s had and leave a generous tip for the bartender who turned out to be his only real source of company tonight.

He gets into his car and sits for a moment, the sounds of the bustling nightlife outside the vehicle a bit dulled in the enclosed space. He isn’t able to sit with his thoughts for long before his phone buzzes from his pocket. He takes it out, his eyes narrowing as he reads what’s written.

Oh man, I’m so sorry about tonight! Something came up and I lost track of time. If you don’t totally hate me already, could we raincheck?

Carlos stares down at the message on his phone screen, torn. Part of him wants to rage. The other part of him reasons that he could be cordial. At least the guy got in touch with him, even if it was after the fact. But Carlos realizes he doesn’t owe this guy anything so he opts to say nothing at all. To preserve what’s left of his dignity for the night, Carlos deletes the app altogether. This isn’t worth his time or energy, he’s starting to see. He was sick of this already. It’d taken a lot for him to be willing to take that first solid effort in moving on but this was already a misstep. Perhaps he just wasn’t cut out for any of this after all? Carlos can feel a moment of clarity dawn on him. He wouldn’t set any store into dating. He’ll focus on himself. That’s what all the signs seem to be pointing to.

He pulls up his contact list, seeking out the one person he feels comfortable sharing this upset with right now. The phone only rings twice before he’s greeted.

“Carlos? What’s up? Is everything okay?” Michelle asks, undoubtedly confused as to why he’s calling her so early, when he’s supposed to be busy right now.

“I’m not really sure.” Carlos surprises himself with the honesty but Michelle is one of his best friends. He can be open with her about what he’s feeling, even if he’s still trying to figure it out.

“I’m home now if you want to swing by. We can talk about it...or not talk, if that’s what you want.”

Carlos is quiet for a second as he stares out the windshield. He watches as people pop into bars and restaurants on the street, everyone seeming to have a great time. It’s a weird sensation to have a front row seat to all of this but not actually be a part of it. He could cave and go home and wallow on his own but that wouldn’t feel right either.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

~*~*~

At the end of their day together, Carlos had been happy when he and TK resolved to make plans for this Sunday instead since his Saturday was taken up. At the time it seemed like a great idea, a solid alternative that would grant them the chance to see each other again so soon. But as he sits across from TK now at an outdoor café with Alex who unexpectedly decided to join them, this is starting to feel like something of a nightmare.

TK had sent him a text ahead of time letting him know that Alex had asked to tag along. It wasn’t quite what Carlos had in mind and he had to wonder at why Alex even wanted to be there but Carlos didn’t object. He could play nice, he supposed. Over the last four months, he’s become something of an expert at ignoring Alex whenever they’re around each other. Interactions like this were limited, just the way he preferred. TK served as a good buffer, enough that Carlos could stomach conversations with Alex chiming in.

Carlos picks at his scone absently as they make pleasant small talk about work, TK sharing the latest crazy stories from calls he’s been on and Carlos doing the same. He knows they’re skating around the topic TK undoubtedly wants to get to but he’s glad for the layover for the time being. Alex hasn’t said much of anything, his phone like an extra appendage. He places it face down on the table, draping an arm over the back of TK’s seat before taking a sip of his coffee.

Alex has spent the better part of their time together texting, only offering a small laugh here and there. What was the point of him being here if he had nothing to contribute? Carlos finds it irritating and rude but he knows he’s more than likely being biased in thinking that. Anything Alex does seemingly gets under his skin. Carlos has been trying and failing over the last few months to curb the frustration he feels towards him but something about Alex just grates at him.

Carlos knows a considerable fraction of that is jealousy but there’s something else he can’t quite put his finger on that makes him uneasy any time he’s face to face with Alex. It’s much easier to deal with the man in small doses or, preferably, by proxy like hearing stories secondhand from TK.

Alex’s phone rings and the man picks it back up again. He glances at the screen, his arm slipping from behind TK to grip the device with both hands.

“Oh, I’ve gotta take this. Excuse me a minute,” he says, rising from his chair and stepping away from the table.

TK watches him go but Carlos watches TK. When his friend looks back at him, he’s smiling knowingly, tucking his chair even further under the table and leaning his head forward like he’s eager to hear a secret. Carlos knows where this is going. He figured the moment they were alone, TK would ask...

“How’d your date go?”

This was the question Carlos has been dreading and he mentally curses himself for having even mentioned to TK that he was set to go out with anyone. This could have been a truth he didn’t ever have to share. It was embarrassing enough to have sat inside the bar waiting for his date to show. Now he has to relive it and relay it to the man he’s secretly in love with.

“It didn’t,” he says simply but even still, he knows a response like this will warrant TK to dig further for actual clarification.

As expected, TK looks confused, his head tilting almost comically to the side. “Wait, what? What happened? What do you mean?”

Carlos’ shoulders stiffen, bracing himself for his own reply. “I mean, he never showed. I waited like an idiot for almost an hour.” He says it lightly but the shame burns white hot in the pit of his stomach.

TK’s eyes narrow and darken, his face growing stony. “That’s such crap. What’s this guy’s problem?”

“It’s fine. I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up. The dating scene here is horrible ,” he jokes, hoping to alleviate some of the awkwardness he feels but TK doesn’t take the out like Carlos wishes he would.

“No, it’s not fine and this isn’t on you,” he counters. “I can’t believe someone would be dumb enough to do that to you. I’m so sorry, Carlos. You’re incredible. Any guy would be lucky to even get the chance to talk to you, never mind actually land a date with you.”

It’s a bittersweet thing to hear coming from TK of all people. Carlos wonders if TK would ever count himself among the swarm of guys who would allegedly be counting their blessings if Carlos expressed an interest.

TK is genuinely bothered by this, so much so that his nostrils flare and his head shakes. It makes Carlos feel good to have someone view him in a high regard but he knows it’s just TK being a protective friend and nothing more. Ideally his rage would be because he wishes he had the opportunity but TK was so wrapped up and happy with Alex that Carlos dismisses the notion that TK is incensed for any other reason.

Carlos just shrugs, avoiding TK’s gaze by fiddling with his cup. He can hear TK breathe out heavily through his nose, his fingers erratically tapping against the table top. Carlos is used to TK’s tics. They always spring about when he’s feeling anxious or overwhelmed. Carlos reaches out and places a hand over TK’s to still his fingers. TK looks down and back up to his face. Carlos offers a small, reassuring smile and it’s enough to get TK’s shoulders to finally loosen.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, licking his lips. The muscle in Carlos’ jaw flexes instinctively at the sight of TK’s tongue working over his mouth.

“Don’t be. I’m touched that you care so much but I’m okay, I promise. It’s a bump in the road but I’m good. I’m taking this as the sign I’m sure it is. ”

TK’s brow arches, his body shifting in his seat. “And what sign would that be?”

Carlos shrugs, tracing the rim of his mug. “That maybe dating isn’t the right thing for me. At least not right now anyway. I took my time getting back out there and it’s already failing, so I’ll just wait a beat. I can be patient until the right person comes along. I’m done chasing after people. Whoever actually wants to be with me wouldn’t run in the first place.”

TK’s lips twitch like he’s gearing up to say something. Instead he stays quiet, eyes growing soft, his expression unreadable. It’s rare that Carlos looks at TK and doesn’t have a clue what the guy is thinking. TK searches his face as if scanning for any signs in his expression that he isn’t being completely honest with him here. Carlos is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still touching TK’s hand but the other man makes no effort to pull back. Instead, TK takes it a step further, lacing their fingers as he continues to stare at Carlos.

Carlos’ heart flutters at the move. If he could just have this all the time, if it could be in the context he’s been dreaming of for so long, it would mean the world to him. Even with all the upset over his failed date and overall attempts to move on, TK manages to cut through the static with a simple gesture like this. They’ve always been good at grounding each other, sometimes without having to speak at all.

TK’s expression softens, as does the tightness in Carlos’ chest. It’s odd realizing just how much influence they have on one another. If TK isn’t happy, neither is he and vice versa.

TK keeps his eyes fixed on Carlos and he’s unable to do anything other than look back freely. It feels like TK’s saying something important with this look alone but before Carlos can decipher the meaning behind those unspoken words or ask what thoughts are on TK’s mind, a clear voice speaks to the left of him.

“Everything alright here?”

Carlos and TK look away from each other sharply and towards Alex who has just returned to the table. Carlos hadn’t even heard him approaching at all. Now that he thinks about it, he suddenly can’t remember hearing anything other than the pulsing in his ears as he held TK’s gaze, as he basked in the warmth of their palms pressed together. This wasn’t the way he should be feeling or acting towards TK anymore.

His friend was in a committed relationship. There were boundaries that had to be in place. Even if he feels indifferent towards Alex, he feels guilty for overstepping in this area. While it might not have meant much to TK, Carlos knows what he feels inside each time TK touches him. If nothing else, he knows he should be putting a stop to encounters such as this. There’s actual significance behind it all for him.

Carlos can feel something like shame run up the length of his spine. It burns at the back of his neck like a summer sun the longer he looks at Alex. He slips his hand out of TK’s grasp and drags it back to his side, his thumbnail absentmindedly stroking the edge of the table. TK nods at Alex and smiles.

“Yeah, just having a best friend moment,” he muses but Alex looks doubtful. Carlos doesn’t think TK picks up on it.

He’s so used to smoothing things over with his beautiful smile and, Carlos supposes, that’s all this truly was for TK—just a brief instance between friends. His tone is so smooth and even; TK must not be feeling the riot in his stomach like him.

Carlos busies himself with his drink, taking a sip and watching traffic roll past as TK strikes up a private conversation with Alex. Carlos is glad for it though. His mind is racing far too much to be an active participant in this right now.

He’s been trying so desperately to move on. He’s convinced himself that it’s for the best, that he’s truly accepted that TK has gotten serious with Alex. Yet, at the first signs of attention or the possibility of physical contact with TK, he welcomes the gestures with open arms so willingly. Had he not vowed to himself the night before that he wouldn’t dwell so much on his feelings for TK? That he would spare himself the heartbreak and focus on work and looking inward instead?

Carlos knows he needs to get a lid on this and fast. He isn’t sure how much longer he has until the truth finds a way out.

“Los?” TK says, breaking Carlos out of his reverie. It must be obvious he’s been zoned out for a while because TK laughs and repeats himself. “I asked if you’re available Wednesday night. I want to celebrate my three years at the 126 with dinner or something with you guys.”

Carlos nods slowly, still pulling his thoughts together, trying to remember his own schedule. “Um, yeah. I should be out at about six, if things aren’t too busy.”

TK nods once. “Perfect, I’ll make reservations for 8 o’clock to give you time to freshen up and all that.”

Carlos still feels shaken but he manages to plaster on a smile. It’s enough to sate TK who resumes whatever conversation he had going before with his boyfriend. Carlos knows he’s playing a dangerous game here and that his feelings are coming alarmingly close to breaking through the surface. These little moments with TK have always been a source of comfort but now they were proving themselves to be roadblocks on his path to moving on. It was one thing to say the words but to actually do the hard work of distancing himself romantically wasn’t nearly as easy as Carlos has been hoping it’d be.

Looking at TK now, he can see that he’s in a good place. To tamper with that—in any capacity— would be the most selfish thing he could ever do.

He stares down into his now empty cup, feeling much the same— completely drained and needing to be wiped clean.

[cosmicclownboy]

 Malex day 7: AU

If there was a concept Michael could blink out of existence it would be blind dates. Not that there aren't other social constructs that he struggles with he just fails to grasp why this is a thing. Can't he be trusted to find someone through his own volition? It's not like either party usually wants to be there anyway? It's a product of peer pressure and it's just so painfully awkward he ends up nursing a beer at a bar by the end of the evening wondering how in the hell he's going to get out of the next one.

The primary issue is the matchmaker in question because in many ways he is in a rock and a hard place. If he even remotely musters up the courage to tell his sister, Isobel no she's going to become hyper fixated on getting him more dates. And that's the last thing he wants. If he just gets through them maybe Isobelle will realise it's a lost cause and just give up. In the past month alone he’s been on three dates all equally terrible. Lisa who worked in finance drank three margarita's and promptly left their dinner on the sidewalk. Doug, a gym trainer who had the personality of a potato. And Susan an astrologist who despite being career goals just didn't fit. It's almost depressing that his brother who set him up with a coroner for a joke somehow wound up getting him a relationship yet his sister who has a better grasp of him then anyone keeps setting him up with these duds.

By month four he's had it. He cannot do it anymore. "Isobel I love you but if you try to set me up on one more date after this I will Jedi frisby your favourite shoes to the moon" Isobelle has never looked more horrified and scared in her life. "You wouldn't dare not the Dolce with the tulle". "I didn't actually know which were your favourite so thanks for the info drop" He nabs a fry and winks at her leaving her with the mental image of destroyed ankle boots. Hopefully, it means she will stop promptly.

According to her logic, he implied he was open to one last date which in turn creates a loophole that she can have one final try. He agrees only because she shoos away a woman he's spent the last hour flirting with. And if he goes on this last one he can finally know some semblance of peace from his sister. When she calls Alex the man of his dreams and uses the word Adonis as a descriptor he's already planning the ways of which he can fling those Dolce shoes. The last man she said would rock his world gave him the worst orgasm of his life and stole ten dollars from his nightstand. He does not want a repeat of that night. To which she enunciates very proudly that she knows him specifically and if he dares to be an asshole she'll shred his cowboy hat. "When have I ever been an asshole on one of your dates Iz" "Ali" She's got him there but he's still offended. "Ali kept sending back her ravioli because it wasn't hot enough.I'm not sorry I didn't want to stay for another course of oh my god my asparagus is touching my salmon Michael my daddy owns a yacht club Michael". He does his best squeaky imitation of her voice that has Isobel shaking her head grinning. "You know I saw her the other day she was spray painting her poodle, Edguirdia bright pink"

Instead of a gaudy restaurant with an obnoxious french name requiring him to google map the address. He's given one not too far from his apartment. Surprisingly it's in the neck of the village he likes that's quiet and reserved. Michael bites back a small smile when he sees the establishment is quite literally called "a Grillhouse".It's rustic. The chairs look a little battered for wear and the kitchen is so close to the tables that the aroma wafts throughout the restaurant. It's peaceful and the smell alone makes him hungry. If Ali ended up here for a date he's pretty sure the place would wind up condemned within the hour. This Alex Manes already has earned points in his book. The menu has food he'd actually eat at a reasonable price and there's a really old jukebox in the corner that he's itching to get a look at. He drops his jacket at the weathered booth in the corner and it's two steps before he's silently reading each song title in his head.

"There are sixty songs on there. I should warn you that fifteen of them are cutesy bops that his girlfriend likes. Who even pairs ACDC and Foo Fighters with the Jonas Brothers?" The voice appearing out of nowhere takes him by surprise so much so that he jams his foot into the corners of the metal. Whatever curse that was going to fall out of his mouth is quickly gone when he turns to see the face to the voice. God, he hopes this man is his date. Dressed in tight black jeans with a marble looking sweater the man is a vision. He stares a little open mouthed for a minute before he remembers he has to speak.

"He must really love his girlfriend"

"Can't say I relate"

He steps in front of him with a coin and Michael quickly moves curiously wondering at what he'll pick. The first bar of Roxeanne by the Police hangs in the air and he's staring at the man in front of him swaying softly eyes closed and smiling. Beautiful. Adonis beautiful?

"Please tell me your Alex?"

Isobel is so forgiven.

"You're a YouTuber?" He tries not to sound offended or judgy but judging by the smirk and raise of his eyebrows Alex immediately sees through his bullshit.Alex rubs his hands on his jeans slowly debating what to say.

"I got in an accident after I left the air force" He knocks his knee revealing a clank. "At first it was to document the journey and so my buddies overseas could feel like they were with me. But then people really got interested in my life and stuff. I do a lot of different stuff. I show people some of my leg fittings. Do videos with my dogs and sometimes I play music"

"You play?"

"Piano and Guitar"

When Michael winds up pressed to his truck an hour later Alex's hands everywhere and anywhere his mind is blank. He's going to combust or come most likely both. And he's perfectly fine with it if Alex's kissing him like he's the instrument that he wants to play non stop. It's dirty and passionate and soft and oh god maybe he is the man of his dreams.The kisses leave him dizzy but he wants more and more. So he maybe has sex with Alex in the back of the truck multiple times over the weeks. And maybe he falls a little bit in love with him. It does not mean he is willing to give Isobel the satisfaction of knowing she found his person. He refuses. So they keep it sort of on the down-low. Alex is fine with this because the internet tends to hold an opinion on every relationship he's ever had and he wants to have moments for them.

The jig is up after four months when Isobel hears Michael say baby off-camera to Alex in one of his videos to his specialist. He gets an earful mainly I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!! He's not even mad at that point he's just relieved he didn't want her to find out after he's moved in with Alex.And if he's honest he's hated not being able to tell her about him. He thinks Alex feels the same because he's been hassled for the past week in texts from all his friends about mystery guy. First, they release a photo of Michael unboxing his stuff with the hashtag #home and they slowly ease him into being in the videos. Michael's quickly come around to realise it was dumb for him to judge especially when he reads some of the comments in the tags about how much a video affects a person's mental health.

The first video he makes his first on-screen debut is Alex doing weird science experiments with Liz and he spots their dog going for the squirrel. Their second dog, of course, spots the squirrel after he's deferred the first dog and long story short the video ends with all three of them bathing the dogs soaked to the brim.

Maybe blind dates aren’t so bad if it’s Alex Manes.

[saltys-writings]

[Victon - Sejun] 7 Minutes in Heaven

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fluff

Words: ~1.4k

Part 3 of 7

This party is the worst. You sigh to yourself in the kitchen after drinking up a glass of water. You thought you could drink away your feelings with some good liquor, but apparently your body has different opinions, as you now feel the start of a pretty bad headache. You shouldn’t have drunk all that sweet stuff. The refreshing taste of the water makes it a little better though.

It’s Subin’s birthday party, if it wasn’t you wouldn’t be here. Because among his closest friends there’s also this one guy who you’ve been hoping to avoid forever. And truthfully speaking it wasn’t even going so bad, until you practically bumped into him here a few hours ago, and all your feelings that had died down so nicely resurfaced.

“Are you coming?” a girl enters the kitchen and asks carefully. You know her face but haven’t talked to her a lot, because she tends to hang out with the guys more than the other girls, and you can usually see her glued to Hanse, doing some questionable stuff with him to annoy the rest of your friends. You’re not sure how to react to her, but you figure it would probably be smart to return to the others by now. You lost track of how long you’ve been in here for.

“Just a second,” you utter, before she approaches you and places her hand on your back.

“Are you okay? Did you drink too much? I saw you chugging quite a bit earlier,” she says that with an apologetic smile on her lips. 

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head.

“Then let’s go!” She takes you by the hand and leads you back to the living room, where everyone’s already sitting in a circle.

“What’s going on?” you dare to ask, as everyone stares at you expectantly.

“We’re playing seven minutes in heaven!” the girl next to you announces, and you can feel your heart drop.

In the end you have no chance but to sit down with them and watch as the first two couples get assigned to each other and then sent into the closet next door. You keep praying not to be the next one, but in the end you know your name will be called on sooner or later. And so you just let out a big sigh when you hear Subin announcing it.

“Y/N will be the first person in the third round!” he says and looks over to Byungchan so he would read the name he pulled. Once again you go into praying-mode, wishing deeply for it to be anyone but-

“Sejun.” It hits you like a ton of bricks. This really is the worst party ever.

Without really thinking, you rise to your feet and so does he, and seemingly calm on the outside but dying on the inside, you follow him into the closet that Subin locks up for you.

“Your time starts now!” he says, adding with a mischievous smile, “Have fun.”

Silence. Neither of you dares to look at the other under the light of the old lamp overhead, and you try to keep your breathing stable while your cheeks heat up from being so close to him. There really isn’t much space between you and your one-sided love, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Are you okay?” Sejun finally breaks the crushing silence by talking to you softly. Somehow his tone reassures you, though it also makes your heart beat faster.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, and you hear him react with a huff.

“You don’t sound like it. And you don’t look like it either,” he answers. “Is it weird for you to be in here with me?” You just stare at him, not knowing what to say. You don’t want to admit the truth in fear he’d want you to explain yourself, but you’re also perfectly aware of the fact that he wouldn’t believe a no. “I won’t hurt you,” he continues, opening up his arms. “You can hug me if that helps!”

You shoot him a look of confusion, to which he offers an encouraging smile, and after you take a deep breath, you step forward and lightly put your arms around his torso. You feel him wrapping you into his embrace, and even though you can hear your blood rushing through your veins, you lean your head on his chest.

“This is actually pretty nice, holding you like this,” he mumbles after a while. 

“I think it’s nice too,” you answer, though it comes out as but a whisper. You take a step back so you can look at his face, and seeing his relaxed smile gives you some courage. “Sejun,” you call out to him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while… but never thought I could say.”

“Are you going to confess now?” he catches you off-guard. “This really feels like a confession.”

“W-would that be a problem?” you wonder out loud and make him laugh softly.

“No, not at all. Let me hear what you have to say,” he answers. So I’m really doing this now, huh? you think to yourself while taking a deep breath.

“I like you.” You’re too afraid to look at him, so your eyes search for something else to focus on, but the closet has been cleaned out rather well for today except for a few cleaning supplies next to your feet. But your head would be at a pretty uncomfortable angle if you were to choose them to fixate your gaze on, so you end up staring into the empty corner behind Sejun instead. “I’ve liked you for a while now, actually.”

“I know,” Sejun responds. “I noticed.”

“You know?” you repeat. “Then… why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because… to be honest I never thought of you as someone I would want to date.” His explanation leaves you hanging your head. “However,” he continues, “maybe I changed my mind today.”

“Huh?” you look up at him, feeling a strange sense of hope.

“Not having seen you for weeks, I realized I kind of missed you,” he admits, and you could’ve sworn there’s a shade of pink creeping onto his cheeks as well. “And then when we ran into each other earlier… and now hugging you like this…” You notice how his voice and also his thoughts are gradually failing him. Are you… witnessing him falling in love with you? A sudden idea strikes you, and you close the distance between you two, now hugging him with more confidence.

“Want to stay like this for a while then?” you whisper, and feel his chest rise and sink as he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then he places his hand on top of your head, and as he lets it wander to behind your neck, you look up at him.

“I want to try something else too,” he says. “Close your eyes.” You do as he said without thinking, and a second later you can feel his breath on your face. Your lips part slightly as if waiting for the kiss he’s about to give you, and just a second later the sensation of him brushing his lips against yours carefully sends butterflies through your stomach. You open your eyes when he withdraws from you and pout.

“That’s all…?” you ask silently, making him chuckle.

“I can kiss you again if you want,” he responds. “But only under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to be my girlfriend for that.” His voice is half drowned out by the sound of someone knocking on the door and opening it a moment later.

“You’re free,” Subin says, smiling shyly and looking away when he finds the two of you still embracing each other. You nod and let go of Sejun, but your hand ends up in his, intertwining your fingers. As you walk back, he whispers to you,

“So…?” You bring his hand up to your mouth and kiss the back of it, before turning around again and halting right in front of the living room door, that Subin already passed through.

“Of course I will be your girlfriend,” you say silently, and with a smile on his lips, he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting it up.

“I never thought you’d be such a cute girlfriend,” he breathes. “I’m sorry for not giving you the credit your deserve so far.” You just shake your head with a smile, and then he kisses you again.

[raptorbox]

wip wednesday: (old) kuroko no basket edition!

since the dub has us watching the anime for a second time, i’ve gotten into a knb mood! so i decided to dig through my evernote and post some bits and pieces of old wips from...ah, 6 years ago is the earliest one. welp. 

here we go! it’s.......mostly akashi/kuroko. i might have an otp. maybe.

akashi/kuroko, coffee shop au

nothing’s actually written for this one, just a cast list and where everyone goes. it’s a pretty long series of lists sooo i won’t actually post it, but here’s where GoM+Kagami are!

Kagami transferred to be a shift manager at Seirin coffee shop

Kuroko is hourly at coffee shop, also pre-school teacher

Murasakibara pastry chef at restaurant owned by Yosen manager

Akashi is a grad student for business, also shogi champ

Kise is a part-time model, taking pilot lessons, and part-time retail worker

Midorima is in med school, works part-time at ???

Aomine line cook/chef at a different restaurant (Touou)

Momoi general manager of said restaurant

if i revisited this i might change some stuff around, but this is pretty fun!

midorima & ???, a...fast food au? maybe?

"I'm off in a few minutes"

Midorima is still turning all the bills in the cash drawer

okay that’s a super short one but i do like the idea of midorima taking time like i used to just...turning all the bills to face the same direction

akashi/kuroko, coffee shop/bookstore au

"I'm off in a few minutes," Kuroko says, looking Akashi in the eye while he continues to wipe down the counter, "if you can wait."

Akashi smiles and turns his coffee cup in his hand, giving Kuroko a glimpse of his own handwriting on the side of it. It just says "Akashi-kun", and Kuroko knows he wrote that a solid 15 minutes ago.

"Are you?" Akashi muses. Kuroko nods and Akashi straightens up from leaning against the counter, taking his coffee and lingering gaze with him. "I'm not in any rush."

Kuroko thanks every higher power that the coffee shop outlet didn't see too many of the bookstore's customers today. He doesn't usually want busy days as it is, but the moment Akashi comes in the more he finds himself wishing for nothing to do.

so the past two wips were filling the same prompt i guess? w/e, i actually started this one. different coffee shop from the seirin coffee shop at the top.

TYL GoM meet-up, feat transgirl reo but not in this excerpt

"I'm sorry." Akashi says and the table goes quiet, half from shock over hearing Akashi say that at all, and the rest as if they'd been punched.

They don't know how to respond. Kise's jaw is dropped,  Murasakibara fidgets, and Midorima is getting his hand squeezed by Takao. Aomine stretches loudly, suddenly, and everyone jumps.

"S'not your fault," Aomine grumbles while not making eye contact with Akashi, "don't apologize."

Akashi's frown is set in deep. "I should have been able to handle the situation much better than I did. I take responsibility."

(More arguing maybe)

Kagami is still chewing his food when he talks. "Weren't all of you in fuckin middle school? Like...what, 13 or 14?"

Everyone turns on him with different reactions; while Murasakibara looks horrified at the disrespect, Takao is trying his damn hardest to keep his burst of laughter muffled. Kuroko jabs Kagami's side and Kagami groans.

"Oh my god," he growls, "seriously, you guys were kids, who the fuck expects a kid to handle all you assholes?" He gripes while gesturing to the rainbow of said assholes, his own boyfriend included.

i get what i was going for but i’d write this differently from how i did 6 years ago. this is like a little overdramatic i guess??? but man i’m just here for some adults dealing with group childhood trauma but this time in a more lighthearted way

akashi/kuroko, about their first date!

Akashi looks as put-together and expensive as kuroko knew he would. He has layers and nice shoes, hands in his pockets and a pleasant, observant expression as he scans the crowds. Kuroko's early and he wonders how long Akashi has been here.

He doesn't bother waving, it wouldn't necessarily make him more visible. He's expecting to be able to walk up to him, invisible and silent, but he's quickly in Akashi's area of sight and he's seen. Kuroko stumbles from being suddenly so visible under a gaze that seems to see all of him at once.

Akashi smiles. "Kuroko, you're early."

Kuroko steps into Akashi's space, settles comfortably beside him facing the crowd. "You're one to talk."

"Hmm, well I can't argue that." Akashi glides through his words. "Shall we go?"

Kuroko is watching faces and gestures. "We're early, aren't we?"

Akashi's eyes flick over all the people,  smirking a little. "Everyone here is in a rush."

Kuroko nods. The trains are going to be packed and he would usually tackle that challenge. He bumps shoulders with Akashi, who nudges him in return.

i actually wrote more of this than i remembered? i have a few other sections started. they make out against a chain link fence after playing some one-on-one to end their date.

akashi/kagami, just some notes

Alex leaves nail clippers

"Your home is so spacious it's hard to believe anyone could lose something here..."

Sits that boy the fuck down

"You can think about dinner while I do this. Maybe you'll even think of something new."

Comments on how he'll call him taiga someday but later

He still has to readjust to tetsuya despite kuroko's insistence on it

Clip clip file file

Humming

It's a concerto I'm practicing

Kagami makes a massive dinner, mutters about how he didn't think if anything new to add or do

Too distracted and stuff

Gets a head scritch

this was basically a fic about akashi grooming kagami’s nails bc i’m just. a big fan of that stuff. i think there’s some hint hint at akashi/kuroko/kagami but maybe not, who knows with me tbh. this would be fun to revisit

akashi/kagami(/kuroko), harry potter au

“Please be more careful.”

Kagami grunts as he shifts his body. “I can’t promise you that.”

Akashi pets Kagami’s hair and brings his hand back around to his cheek. “Try.” he says with a slight smile. It’s dark out but he can see the flush in Kagami’s cheeks and the light in his eyes.

---

They return to the equipment room to undress themselves from their quidditch gear, Akashi leading Kagami by his hand, still in quiet disbelief that this might just work out.

Akashi looks up and is the first one to see Kuroko standing there in his robes, broom in hand, smiling at them.

kuroko came to practice with them, heard the yelling and ran to see what was up, saw the post-fall bit and just kinda hung out and watched bc boyfriends yeh.

“Jeez, now I’ll never hear the end of how much time I spend with Slytherins,” Kagami groans, “and the seeker and captain of the team, at that.”

now we’re getting into the old self-indulgent af shit back when harry potter wasn’t on my shit list.

akashi/kuroko(/kagami), that same harry potter au

(3rd years)

Akashi sits in his bed across the room from Kuroko’s. Their roommates are in their own beds, studying or writing letters in the quiet warmth of their dormitory. It’s lights-out, they should all be at least trying to sleep, but it’s been a long time since any of them have stuck to that.

Akashi doesn’t know if Kuroko used to go to bed on time. He doesn’t remember if he gets up early or is late for his classes. He never used to see him, but now he can’t stop looking at him. Kuroko fidgets under his gaze and Akashi smiles.

“Sorry, Kuroko,” he says, watching Kuroko startle and look around at their roommates, “is this uncomfortable?”

Kuroko’s expression rarely morphs outside of his usual default, but Akashi watches the small furrows of his brow and the deeper set of his unsure frown. He’s been unable to un-see Kuroko since that day earlier this year. He finds Kuroko fascinating and wonderful, a pinnacle of everything he wanted to complete his quidditch team who goes far and beyond his every expectation. He’s fixated on Kuroko, the Muggle-born Slytherin with a talent tailored to the qualities of a perfect Seeker.

Some of their dormmates have looked up at Akashi curiously, asking without words who he was talking to. Akashi waves them off and they shrug, more preoccupied with their own things at this time of night Akashi reaches out a hand to Kuroko, across the room, and Kuroko shoots it a confused stare.

Akashi chuckles. “Come here.”

no one can pry slytherin kuroko from me, that’s all i gotta say

aaaaaand that’s all i can show for my old af knb fics that i never finished! i don’t know if i’ll pick any of these back up, maybe one of the coffee shop ones if i do. as much as i loved and plotted out the harry potter au, harry potter is dead to me so i’ll just have to transplant that story into something else somehow if i really want to.

[bagels-and-seagulls]

What about jealous David from the enemies to lovers au? There can't be enough from that!

more enemies to lovers au

Matteo was... confused, to say the least, about everything that has happened. Him and David- he just didn’t know what to do about the whole thing. A few weeks ago, they weren’t even speaking to each other in public, hiding whatever they were away, and now they were somewhere in between that and being something else, an item, boyfriends. Matteo didn’t really know, but he wanted to. All he knew is that most of their plans ended up falling through, and the only dates that had worked out were those couple of breakfasts they shared, but not from lack of effort. 

But now, right now, he was standing by his locker, talking to Jonas about their plans for the evening, even though he felt a little bit like he was swimming underwater, thinking about things that felt like they were vitally important and not at all at the same time. 

“We’re going to Sam’s party, yeah?” Jonas asked, looking down at his phone. 

Matteo hummed. “22?” He asked back, just to be sure. 

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Jonas says and types something out. “You still good to have the boys over?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matteo says and looks down the hallway to where David was talking to someone but looking over her shoulder every few seconds back to Matteo and trying to keep his smile down, biting his lip and his cheek to do so. It made Matteo kind of want to kiss him. “Uh,” Matteo says and looks back at Jonas if only to give his eyes a break from staring at the sun too long, but Jonas is looking back at him like he caught him in the act. “You guys can come over whenever.”

“Is David coming over?” Jonas asks with a knowing smirk and looks down the hall to the boy in question. He was getting cooler with the whole David thing, at least the idea of it, once Matteo explained everything to him, the sneaking around, the fights, the whole lot of it. And Jonas asked a couple of questions, jsut stuff about the timeline and how Matteo felt about all of it, but ended up just saying that he trusted Matteo on this, like most things, even if he was still a little hesitant with David and the company he keeps. 

“He has plans tonight, I think,” Matteo responds with a shrug and nudges Jonas down the hallway with a push on his shoulder to get them going. He turns around just a little, just to get one last peek at David, who’s watching him leave and waves down low at his hip and a wink that has Matteo’s face heating up. Jonas starts laughing, and Matteo pushes him, telling him to shut it. 

Jonas stays over at his, and they play video games with their textbooks spread out on the table like they were going to do them eventually, which they didn’t, not like they really thought that would but still being hopeful anyways. And then the boys came over, and Matteo’s literature notebook gets used as a coaster for Carlos’ beer, not that he cared that much about it anyways. It was probably getting more use like this than as a notebook anyways. 

By 2130, they’re off towards Sam’s, trying to talk Abdi up, telling him that it was going to be his night, that he looked really great in that shirt, it was a great color, and that Sam was sure to notice, and hey, he should tell that joke to her, she would like it. They say all of this, talking out their asses, but then look at each other behind Abdi’s back like they were already coming up with a way to cheer him up when it back fired later. Abdi always had a tendency to choke Sam was actually standing in front of him.

They end up splitting off pretty early into the party. Abdi went to go find Sam, and Jonas saw Hanna on the other side of the room. Carlos and Matteo just looked at each other before searching for a drink, the bass of the music making Matteo’s heart beat a little off kilter in his chest. They chat, well mostly screamed, over the music for a little bit about nonsensical things, things that didn’t matter at all, but then Carlos ends up ditching him when he sees Kiki. And Matteo is left standing in the corner without too much to do besides twiddle his thumbs and sip on his beer. 

“Hey.”

Matteo looks up and sees a boy that he vaguely recognizes that had curly hair and wore a pair of black wire glasses that were fashionable in a hipster sort of way. “Hey,” he greets back, and the boy smiles and leans up against the wall next to him. 

“Matteo, right?” He’s wearing a striped shirt.

“Yeah,” he says and nods, pulling at the corner of his beer label. “Sorry, I don’t-” 

“Julian,” the guys fills in and points to himself with a smile that Matteo was sure worked on people besides him with pearly teeth and pink lips. “We had math together last term.” 

“Right, right,” Matteo nods. “My memory’s shit.” 

“It’s all good,” Julian laughs, and Matteo takes a sip of his beer because he doesn’t really know what to say here, how to fill in the space. He was never really good with small talk, even when he wanted to be which he wasn’t quite sure he did right about now, and the boy- Julian- laughs awkwardly into the back of his hand. “Do you know Sam?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Matteo responds, trying to keep up with Julian’s sputtered out attempts at conversation but failing at it. “We’re friends, through friends.” 

“Oh cool,” Julian says and nods. “She’s in theater with me.” 

“Nice,” Matteo says and takes another sip of his beer. They stand there for a little while longer, not really talking, not really even looking at each other, but then Sam comes into the room with Abdi trailing behind her like the lost puppy dog look he usually has on his face whenever Sam is around and grabs at Matteo and Julian’s hands. 

“Come dance with me,” she yells over the music and pulls both of them after her, and Matteo throws a wild glance at Abdi, trying to ask what the hell is going on, but he just shakes his head at him like he didn’t know and followed after her. And then all of them are standing in the living room that was slightly too small for all the people in there with different colored lights flashing against the walls. 

Matteo sways from side to side with his hands shoved into his jean pockets, having lost his beer along the way somehow. Julian is still there, still smiling at him like it was going to make a difference and making Matteo feel a little bit weird about this whole thing, the whole party in general. Matteo bounces along with a little spring in his knees, trying to blend in long enough before he can make his escape back to the kitchen, or out to curb, or even to shut himself in the bathroom. He didn’t care. And Julian is dancing closer and closer now, shuffling his feet towards him with that same stupid smile. And fuck, Matteo really didn’t have it in him to tear this guy down. He’d rather just find a way to disappear into the crowd and hope Julian finds someone else to try and fixate on, but then the guy is half a foot away. And Matteo is actually going to have to say something to him. Fuck-

Someone puts their hands on Matteo’s hips from behind him, and he jumps, spinning around far enough to see David standing there behind him, glaring over Matteo’s shoulder at the guy in front of him. And Matteo blinks, thinking that this must all be a dream because this certainly wasn’t how he thought tonight was going to go. 

“David?” Matteo asks, and he isn’t too sure that David can hear him over the music. But David pulls him up against his chest and kisses the spot in front of his ear, whispering something into the skin that Matteo can’t make out. 

Julian must pick up on something then, too dense to get Matteo’s more subtle cues that said to back the fuck away, but picking up quite quickly on the way that David was holding onto Matteo’s hips with Matteo gripping at his wrists. He leaves, saying something that Matteo didn’t really care to try and hear, and Matteo leans further back into David’s chest. 

“What are you doing here?” Matteo asks over his shoulder and debating on running his fingers through David’s hair because the way David was breathing on the side of his neck was making him feel a little dizzy and like he wanted to hold onto something. Fuck, he wanted a drink, he thinks to himself, or to get out of here. 

“Wanted to see you,” David says back, and Matteo can’t hardly stand it, not being able to see David’s face. So he turns himself around and throws his arms around David’s neck as David keeps him close by a grip on his hips and keeps up the sway to the music. “Who was your friend?”

And Matteo wants to make fun of him, wants to ask him if he was jealous, if that’s why he wanted to know, but the look in David’s eyes, the one that was filled with heat and something heavy, like rocks at the bottom of the ocean, the same one that David had on his face when there were bruises being pressed into Matteo’s back from a balcony railing, made Matteo stop at the same time it made his mouth run dry. “No one,” he says instead and runs his fingers through his hair as David pushes his knee in between Matteo’s and continues to sway, slow and steady. 

“No one?” David repeats and tilts his head. His fingers were sneaking up Matteo’s shirt to feel the skin of his hips.  

Matteo shakes his head and bites his lip. “Wanna go for a smoke?”

[sero-sphere]

Happy Birthday Tama! (Tamaki Amajiki birthday date)

Summary: 1.6k words, tamaki x (f) reader, a continuation of this. You invite Tamaki out for his birthday…duh!!

posting this now cause its ready. 🤗 happy birthday bb boy. 🎁🎈💕

“Hey Tama wait up! I have to ask you something!” You got a glimpse of the back of his head as he hurried through the halls, trying to avoid as many people as possible. He stopped and turned with a smile, when he heard you call out for him.

“Oh h-hey, Y/N…what’s up?” He was already blushing. 

“Since tomorrow is your birthday, I was hoping you would want to do something with me… Ya’ know…after school?” Tamaki’s eyes went wide. It’s not that he wasn’t used to your company, by this point he definitely was, but just the thought of you wanting to do something for him, for his birthday…It was a tad nerve wracking.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to…but I wanted to do something special for you on your special day!" 

Tamaki turned bright red. "I-I uhm…” He looked down and started to fiddle with his hands. “What d-did you h-have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking we could go out to eat, to that new kaisendon restaurant downtown! And then maybe the aquarium?” You said that last bit as more of a question. You knew how shy he could be in large crowds. “I know it’s kinda weird after eating, well you know…but I figured you could get a lot of new ideas on how to use your quirk, by watching all the animals and stuff!”

“That sounds like a-a lot of fun.” Despite the shakiness in Tamaki’s voice, his face was pressed with a soft smile.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, soaking in his innocence.  "Aww Tama, it will be! I asked Mirio if he wanted to tag along, but he said I can have you all to myself. I can’t wait, I think I’m more excited for your birthday than you are.“

-

The next day at school was a bit of a blur, your mind too pre-occupied to focus on anything but Tamaki and your plans. Before you knew it, you were both on your way to the restaurant.  After a quick stroll through the city, you had arrived and somehow had managed to score the best booth in the place. The food was amazing, you both thoroughly enjoyed it, Tamaki especially.  His cheeks flushed when you paid for his plate, but it was his birthday after all, and you insisted.

It was another short walk from the restaurant to the aquarium. This time you let Tamaki pay for himself. You already made him feel guilty enough with everything you had already done for him.  

Once inside, your eyes immediately fixated on the very large exhibit just off of the lobby. You grabbed Tamaki’s hand and skipped straight over to it enthusiastically.  You had gotten there just in time to watch the penguins get fed!

"Aww, look Tamaki! They’re so cute!”

-

 The rest of your time was pretty much spent the same way… you grabbing his hand, pulling him to the next display that you were excited about, and him trying out new things with his quirk when the situation allowed.  He had to admit he was having an amazing time with you. Going to the aquarium on a weekday was actually perfect. It wasn’t near as crowded as it usually was, and he was able to relax a bit. You both bopped back and forth, from exhibit to exhibit, reading all the tidbits of information written about the different creatures, and observing their habits.  

The two of you finally got to a long tunnel, which ran through the main display tank.  It was filled with sea turtles, sharks, sting ray's…all kinds of colorful fish, all swimming peacefully around you. As much as this was supposed to be for Tamaki, you were having a great time too. You felt a little selfish enjoying yourself that much. Tamaki looked beautiful under the glow of the water, and little did you know he was thinking the same thing about you.

The tunnel had finally opened up into a touch tank. Tamaki turned his fingers into little tiny tentacles to play with the starfish, and you were watching all the shrimp feel around the tank with their little antennae. The description said that they could use them for depth perception, as well as to smell or taste.

“Hmmm! I bet you could do that! We just had shrimp!”  You pointed down to them, then looked back over to Tamaki who had now sprouted antennae from his head. Absolutely adorable. 

“What am I supposed to do with them?”

“Well it says you can taste, or smell.”

His little antennae twitched forward towards you. You giggled as they got closer and started to feel around your face and head. 

“Uhm, coconut?” Tamaki said questioningly. His tickling appendages had made their way into your hair.

“Oh! That’s my shampoo!”

“It smells really good….” His eyes started to drift shut, he was seemingly getting lost in your scent. His antennae continued their mission, inching down feeling around the rest of your face. One landed on your lips, the second right behind it. He opened his eyes, and blushed when he realized where he had been touching. He disabled his quirk, and his tickling teasers retreated.

“They just taste…uhm… r-really sweet.”

“It’s my lip balm! It’s made out of sugar” You both giggled and continued to the next tank. He was entranced by the show the clown fish was putting on when you interrupted.

“Hey Tamaki…how do you think shrimps kiss? They don’t really have lips to do it, huh?”

He looked over to you and thought for a minute. “Maybe with their little feelies?” He shot his hands up to where his antennae were just moments before, and wiggled his fingers at you.

“So does that mean you shrimp kissed me?” You replied with a giggle.

He blushed…hard. If he wasn’t so comfortable around you, his face would definitely be glued to the wall. Really, the first kiss he shared with you had to be as a shrimp? He would never live this down.

After the two of you took some selfies under the lights of the bioluminescent jellyfish, it was time to head out. On the way out the door, you insisted Tamaki wait in the gift shop, while you went to the bathroom. It was all, of course, an excuse. You watched from a distance as he looked through all the typical gift shop goodies. He made his way over to the plushies, and stopped when he got to one in particular. Reaching out, he ran his hand through the little tuft of fur sitting on the top of its head. He smiled, but continued on nonetheless. You snuck off and bought it, sneaking it into your bag before he could see you. 

-

By the time the two of you walked back to the dorms, it was already dark. You grabbed for his hand instinctively and he jumped a bit, he didn’t pull away from your touch though.

“Oh, I’ve kind of been doing that all night, huh? Sorry.”

“N-no! I-i don’t mind, it’s been n-nice. I actually uhm….” He paused for a moment. You used his silence as a chance to glance over at him, in an attempt to read his facial expressions.

“Hmm…wouldn’t mind if…” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t mumble out the words.  He picked up your hands and intertwined his fingers. He could have sworn you could hear his heart beat booming in his chest. You leaned in closer to him, and continued on your walk very satisfied with the night the two of you shared. Along the way, the two of you took the opportunity to stare up at the beautiful night sky. There was not a cloud in sight, which made for a perfect stargazing experience. A couple of shooting stars later, and U.A was visible off in the distance.

Knowing the night was coming to an end, Tamaki decided tell you how much he appreciated everything you had planned for him. “Thank you so much, for everything today. I had a really great time.” He was proud of himself…he didn’t even stutter once!

“I’m glad you got to try new things out with your quirk! It was really awesome Tama… I can’t wait to see you in action.” You pulled him in for a tight hug, making sure he couldn’t peek at what you were about to pull out of your bag.

“I actually have one more thing for you, before today is over…” You slowly released him, and brought the cute purple octopus plushie up to his hands for him to grab. "Happy Birthday Tama.”

His jaw dropped, and he was left speechless. After hugging both you, and the plushie for a while, he was finally able muster up the courage and formulate a sentence.

“Uhm, tonight was….p-perfect…. I-it really was. Spending time with you has been a-amazing.”

“I’m glad you got everything you wished for, Tamaki.”

“Y-yeah….everything but one thing.” He tilted your chin up with his hand, making it so you were looking up straight at him.

You pouted. “What didn’t you get?”

“A kiss…a r-real one…. Not one as a shrimp…” His eyes focused on the ground until you stood up on your tip toes to reclaim his loving gaze, and capture his lips for a sweet kiss.

It’s safe to say, Tamaki got everything he wished for that night…maybe even a little more. He was truly happy that he was able to spend his birthday with you. 

 ( the whole night, not just the part that was shared under the stars. )

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #3

Time for some good chafing gags!

I love Cerebus. Once I began buying the monthly issues, I stuck with it until Issue #300, no matter how bored I had become with Cerebus's explication of Genesis. I stuck with it because it had entertained me so much and because I loved the idea of a comic book series with a character who grows and changes and eventually dies as an old, decrepit, huge delusional mess. Or was he delusional? Yeah, I think he was. By the end, I think we're supposed to realize Rick was the protagonist? Whoops! I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm still in the issues where I don't have to think too hard about anything and can just sit back and laugh at jokes about chain mail bikinis and a woman who will only fuck somebody who overpowers her physically! What I meant to say before I interrupted myself like usual, I kept with the series because I loved so much of it. Not all of it, of course. Who could love all of it?! Dave Sim was writing things that kept himself interested and wasn't too worried about, say, keeping the audience that loved Church & State while writing Melmoth, or expecting people who loved Guys to be enthusiastic about Coming Home. I appreciated this comic book so much that it's the only reason that I kept purchasing monthly comic books as I entered my thirties. I had gotten to the point where my brain was having too much trouble remembering all the different comic book story lines with a full month long gaps between each twenty-four page bit of story. So at some point just past the year 2000, I decided I'd stop reading monthly comics altogether after March 2004, the final issue of Cerebus. After that, I kept up with Fables and Walking Dead via collected editions. But I was done reading monthlies (until The New 52 somehow dragged me back in to do that blog project!). So yeah. I was (and still am!) a huge Cerebus fan. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to be critical of the series and the writer. Dave Sim makes a lot of mistakes and I'm going to have a lot of fun pointing them out! You might not think they're mistakes but I ask that you hold your comments until the end (you know, my review of Issue #300!) because why would I want to argue on the Internet with other huge comic book nerds? We're the worst! One person I'll never criticize because I don't think they ever do anything wrong: Gerhard! That fucking work horse nails it throughout the entire series! Nothing much to say about Deni's "A Note from the Publisher" since all she says is how she has nothing to say. I was hoping she'd admit to rubbing one out over one of Dave's finished Red Sophia pages but my horrible male nerd projections about how women act once more didn't come to fruition. How is it everything I learned about women from female comic book characters turned out to be so wrong?! I refuse to believe it's because most of them were written by men. Men are so rational and logical! They wouldn't have steered me wrong!

I should probably do a little research on Frank Thorne.

Frank Thorne was best known for his work on Marvel's Red Sonja. Yes, I lifted that directly from Wikipedia. But I typed it myself! Another thing I learned from Wikipedia (I'd do more research than just Wikipedia but I don't want to wind up on YouTube where I'll not only learn about Frank Thorne's artistic history but also that the American Democratic party runs a pedophile sex traffic ring and also something about cannibals? I mean, it sounds like something I'd like to believe!) is that Thorne wrote a book called How to Draw Sexy Women. So, you know, he's probably one of my heroes? Frank Thorne is currently 90 years old and he might have the most adorable picture of anybody on Wikipedia.

I want to be best friends with him right now. Six year old me would have been over the moon in love with him (I had a Grandfather Fixation when I was really young that probably had nothing to do with my father leaving when I was two).

This issue not only introduces Red Sophia but also the wizard Henrot. That's an anagram of "Thorne"! Red Sophia is an anagram for "Hi! Do Rapes." I don't agree with that at all. I'm just the anagram messenger. I'm also not suggesting that Dave Sim knew what he was doing anagrammatically! I mean with the Red Sophia anagram. He definitely meant the Henrot/Thorne one! Cerebus has returned to civilization but now needs some quick cash because one thing Cerebus always needs is quick cash. He's only wealthy a few times and those times don't usually last long. He goes to see Henrot (who allegedly gets his power from two of the five Spheres of the Gods! So now we kind of know more about those things even if it is just a rumor) to question him about any paying mercenary gigs.

You might think the missing word in Henrot's dialogue was a mistake by Dave Sim but later we'll probably learn in, I don't know, Issue #143 that Henrot's first language is Borelean to account for this seeming error.

Cerebus doesn't usually take assassination or torture jobs because he finds them distasteful but he needs the money. Sure, he'll take any job that has him killing people in battle or invading private wizard's towers to murder the owner and steal the owner's stuff. But assassination and torture? So wrong! Once Cerebus takes the job, he learns that he was to take Henrot's daughter, Red Sophia, along with him. The target besmirched her honor so she needs to watch him die slowly and painfully. Is this where the MeToo hashtag goes?

Red Sophia drawing tutorial: Draw some big tits, some big lips, and a big mass of hair. Connect them with some kind of woman shaped lines. Ta-da!

Red Sophia chatters incessantly and dances around while Cerebus carries all of the gear. It's funny because female characters get to represent all women instead of being a unique character! Ha ha! Women really do talk a lot, right? And they're always all, "Carry my purse for me!" And guys are all like, "Stifle your emotions like a normal person! Carry your own purse! Stop dancing around whimsically and try to act tough and cool like regular people do! Play some sports already! Take care of me like you were my replacement mother!" In the "A Note from the Publisher," Deni wrote that since the first issue (remember the first issue? So many issues ago!), Dave had wanted to write a story where Cerebus interacts with a female. She doesn't say Dave wanted to write a female character. He just wanted Cerebus to interact with a female. So I guess that's what this is! Cerebus interacts with a female stereotype who is also a sex fantasy. Not because she's hot but because she constantly tries to fuck Cerebus throughout their adventure! What sword and sorcery reading nerd didn't dream of that three or four times a day in a dark room? I'm being harsh on Sim because it's more fun than lavishing praise on him. You can tell Sim realizes the inherent problems with Red Sonja because that's the bulk of his parody. The problem isn't Dave's take on the character; the real problem is simply the character Red Sonja! In 1978, Sim was already commenting on the ridiculous armor artists draw on women (there will be chafing jokes!)! And in this story, Dave Sim expresses how ridiculous it was to create a female character who was raped and then given great fighting skills by some Goddess with the catch that she can never fuck a man unless he beats her in fair combat. Just looking at it from a guy's point of view, I'd probably be all, "You know what? I don't want those powers. Could you maybe just strike down the asshole who raped me and let me not have to attempt to beat up every woman I'm attracted to?" Is that enough hot takes on Red Sophia? Cause I want to get to the part of this review where I can admit that I fucking love her so much. Later Cerebus meets Elrod who is really just Foghorn Leghorn. I'm pretty sure Red Sophia was less Red Sonja than Pepé Le Pew. I know, I know! There are probably some sensitive reasons why I'm not supposed to like Pepé too! But he was my mother's favorite Looney Tunes character! Anyway, I can't blame Dave Sim for making his first female character about 75% stereotypes of women. He's still a young writer! You've got to give him about another 183 issues to really clarify his stance on the interactions between genders! I'm sure it'll be more layered, nuanced, and rational.

Cerebus might be an Earth Pig but he's not a chauvinist pig. He doesn't take sexual advantage of Red Sophia here; he just makes her carry all the gear. It's a good joke that I'm ruining by explaining it instead of scanning in the punchline!

Just for comparison, let's take a look at a modern interpretation of Red Sonja by Ed Benes. I bet just that artist's name alone gives male comic book nerds a chubby. Not a full on hard on though. Those are probably reserved for hearing the name "Frank Cho."

What do they teach in art school? Women can turn 180 degrees at the waist? Not that I'm complaining! Dark room, here I come!

Oh shit. I forgot I was reading this comic book! Okay, um, so Red Sophia attacks Cerebus for besmirching her honor. Or Cerebus attacks Red Sophia for knocking him into a bush with her ass. Maybe it's a little bit of both. Anyway, Cerebus defeats her so Red Sophia begins throwing her ample bosom at Cerebus every chance she gets. Cerebus is not interested for some reason. Maybe it's because he stuck a sword in his vagina when he was younger? That happened, right? Or was that a flashback about him having his period? Now that I'm thinking about it...what the fuck is this comic book? I think maybe I hallucinated some of it! Cerebus isn't a fucking slut, man! He doesn't just fuck any hot woman whom he defeats in battle! He needs to fall in love and/or get completely wrecked on Peach Schnapps. So he has no interest in Red Sophia. I suppose a woman trying to kill you is a bit of a turn off. And then later, when she gets you into a fight with Thugg the Unseemly, it's less of an aphrodisiac than you might think.

I think Borelean might be Red Sophia's first language as well. I mean, she is Henrot's daughter.

The Letterer part of Dave Sim has already fucked up twice this issue. I bet he was too busy having his sword and sorcery fantasies in a dark room to pay close attention to the script. This is probably why Dave Sim eventually gave up masturbation. Later, Red Sophia feeds Cerebus granola and it totally cracks Dave Sim up. He said so in the Swords of Cerebus essay! Didn't you read it? I, for one, prefer the joke on the following page about Cerebus being a cannibal. Or an aardvark who eats human meat, anyway. I think that's close enough to cannibalism. We learn later that aardvarks can have offspring with humans so I feel like the aardvarks in this book are less sentient funny talking animals and more severely deformed human beings.

Red Sophia's tent. If this we were well into Mothers & Daughters when this tent made an appearance, I'd think Dave purposefully drew it this way. Since we're only on Issue #3, I think he was just feeling horny when he drew it.

If at any time during this review I've referred to Red Sophia as Red Sonja, just remember that English is my second language. I'm Borelean. I apologize to Dave Sim for earlier suggesting that Red Sophia was simply a bunch of female stereotypes mashed together into a character. As I said, I love her. I figured I probably started loving her after she makes several more appearances but I'm pretty sure this is the page where I knew needed more Red Sophia in my life.

How can you not be completely charmed by the "I'm pretty good at hand-holding" line?

This is a good reminder that I shouldn't be judging early Dave Sim by Issue #186 Dave Sim and beyond. He should always get the benefit of the doubt and, even after #186, he should retain it. I need to be reading the material both with fresh eyes as if reading it for the first time and with the knowledge of the whole in an attempt to understand it better. This scene is just so fucking charming that I hate that it might be ruined for many people based on their "knowledge" of Dave Sim. I put knowledge in quotes because, really, how many people who think of Dave as a misogynist have actually read Cerebus or Tangent? How many have just heard they're supposed to despise him because he's been called a misogynist? I mean, sure, you just have to read a bunch of his Biblical explications to understand you're dealing with something other than neurotypical! But it'd be nice if more people came to their Dave Sim conclusions themselves instead of just jumping on the bandwagon. I'm not saying people who think he's a misogynist aren't automatically wrong! Dave thinks they are but come on. He eventually gives out a lot of slack with which to make quite a few nooses to hang himself with. Um, okay, back to not judging Cerebus based on future Dave's rants about the Marxist/feminist/homosexual axis! Cerebus and Sophia finally reach the target where Cerebus discovers that the target, Tanes Feras, loves Sophia. And just like that, he figures out how to get rid of Sophia while also torturing Feras (possibly to death? Time will tell!). He commands Sophia to marry Feras because she must do whatever he asks. Sure, she thought it would involved his super long tongue and her metal-chafed butthole. But that's the great thing about love! It doesn't care what you want. Henrot seems to accept this conclusion for now. He'll definitely be back later. And so will Red Sophia. I can't wait!

The map of Cerebus's world by Deni's brother, Clovis. He ran out of ideas when he got to "Ocean Sea."

I'll have to remember to keep referring back to this map throughout the series. Although I'll probably only need it for the first twenty-five issues. And then maybe after Mothers & Daughters. Nothing noteworthy in Aardvark Comment this month. Just some Canadians saying things like, "Glad to see a Canadian comic book from Canada about Canada!" Which is confusing because I didn't realize how much of Cerebus was representative of Canada. I've really got to rethink my Canadian stereotypes. Now I'll be sure to picture Canadians as 50% Cerebus and 50% Joey Jeremiah. Cerebus #3 Rating: B+. Sim's art remains a bit more on the amateurish side than the professional side. But that's to be expected. Already you can see improvements in the consistency of Cerebus's look and I think maybe his snout is already getting shorter and girthier. This was the first issue where he drew a woman so I can't fault him for drawing a blow-up doll in a chain mail bikini. Why would I? I'd never fault anybody for drawing a blow-up doll in a chain mail bikini! I also just thought up a new category to search on eBay. This issue begins to show where Sim really excels: his characters. The first two issues basically highlight Cerebus dealing with a few generic characters. But Red Sophia (and Henrot to a lesser extent) captures the spotlight this issue. Ignoring some of the shallow aspects of her character creation (if you even believe those exists. Don't take my super-professional critical opinion on it!), she's really rather charming and a competent foil for the Earth Pig. Just knowing that she's the tip of the iceberg in the gallery of recurring characters excites me more than those fantasies I keep having in my dark room.