#when u love a character so much u don’t even know what to say

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"You are." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

To Daryl, you are different, you are special, you are everything. But when his jealousy over a "prank" from your friend leads to a misunderstanding you can't resolve, and an incident the next day that nearly costs you your life, it causes Daryl to have a huge revelation about his feelings for you.

@artsynana: heyy dear!! i was wondering if you could ever write something with some soft jealous daryl x reader at the prison era, btw i love the way you write daryl🥰

A/N: Hi love. First, sorry! I didn't know you had left a request :( but thank you so much for doing it. This is a little short and different :( and a little more dramatic, but I really hope you like it♥ And for your words, thank u again! I think I write Daryl a little bit off the character, but I guess it's because I picture him like that hehe

Daryl Dixon is not a possessive person, never, but he is not made of steel either, that’s way he’s unable to stop jealousy from creeping up on him.

The night is ending inside the prison, the heat of the day floating in the air, but the still warm weather seems to hang over Daryl almost in a suffocating way. As he continues to wait for his dinner, he has a panoramic view of you across the dining room, sitting in the long steel chair, elbows on the table, always accompanied by that pretty boy Sean, with his stupid green eyes and that stupid smile, following you ever since Daryl rescued his group from the governor.

And Daryl hates not being able to hate you for the senseless jealousy that you make him feel now, as he thought he did in the past.

Daryl hated ​​you for being a badass, like the afternoon you showed up to save his ass back in Atlanta, like a force of nature, like a fucking storm–sweeping away the little peace he managed to find at the end of the world, shaking his own with your magnetic presence. But he also hated how your strong gaze could rest, turning you into an angel when he could see the tenderness in your soft smile, and your dreamy eyes when things got a little bit better in that grey world.

The secret of his hate was because of your selfishness, your wild and free heart, and that fucking dimple that formed on your left cheek, so yeah, he fell hard for that, he fell hard for you. But no one knew about your relationship, everyone blind to those little displays of affection: the casual brush of your hands, the secret smiles, the way his hand rested on the side of your neck before he kissed you.

“You are like… staring much. Don't you think?" Carol chuckles beside him, making Daryl look away from you as he takes his plate. "Damn, pookie, you are not subtle at all."

She continues with the bland jokes; the same ones she’s been making since Carol caught the way Daryl looked at you.

"Shut up." He hisses, turning his attention back to the food.

But Carol is not ready to give up.

"I once read that when a feeling is silenced, bottled up or imprisoned, the eyes, the lover’s gazes scream everything."

Daryl frowns, confused.

"What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout?"

She chuckles, crossing her arms.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that maybe you should start making it clear to everyone that (Y/N) is with you."

He clears his throat, but the heat on his cheeks burns more than the sun on that season.

"Ya knew?"

"No. You just told me." Carol turns around towards the pot to serve herself a plate, Daryl narrowing his eyes at her, even if she isn’t looking at him.

"But, uh... like what?" He asks after a few seconds, hoping that Carol will understand the question without him having to spell it out for her.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe approach her not only when you two are alone.”

Carol smiles at Daryl, walking away to leave him with the weight of his thoughts.

Daryl Dixon is a strong man, to survive, to protect, but as a boy who grew tall but is still a boy on the inside, he feels lost with the feelings he keeps inside him, not knowing what to do with them. He had had casual encounters in bars, but was too drunk to even remember, to even care about them. But you are different, you are special, you are everything. That’s why, even with his heart hammering in his chest, Daryl walks over to the last table, eyes fixed on your profile, his sometimes noisy mind disappearing the rest as he sets his plate down on the table before sitting down next to you, ignoring the confused look from Sean, who was silent for a second in shock before resuming his story of a past life on his farm with the rest.

“The lake water is cold during that season…” He keeps talking, oblivious to the way you hold your breath when you feel Daryl's fingers on your lower back.

But out of nowhere, his hand begins to seek out the skin beneath, a light touch over the edge of your black t–shirt until he finds the warmth of your flesh. Your back arches slightly beneath his calloused fingers on your skin, but you try to control your body as your dirty thoughts begin to overflow.

The small group is so wrapped up in the funny anecdote that no one notices the way Daryl leans in close.

"Breathe, peach, ‘fore ya pass out."

His words are the jolt back to reality, and you let out a breath as you squint, your hand darting from your lap to his leg, only to pinch his skin over his pants with your fingers. As a reflex, his leg jumps slightly, but Daryl takes the attack with a smirk that is almost imperceptible to the rest of them, but not to you.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Sean glances in your direction, catching your gaze and a confused expression that silently prompts him to repeat his question. "You told me you dated a guy who looked like me."

Confused, you clear your throat.

“Yeah. Uh, but we separated long before all this...”

Mary nods, a young woman who came with Sean’s group.

“Wow. He must have been really handsome. But did you love him, (Y/N)?”

Your skin feels cold again when Daryl's hand leaves your body, even if your skin feels boiling hot when the attention falls on you like the midday sun in that stifling season. As if someone had put their hand on your throat until it was blocked from air, your uncomfortable laughter comes out muffled, but you don’t answer before changing topics. But it's sad that after a short while, Daryl stands up to go to his own cell, his thoughts run wild about the jealousy he feels about that guy, thinking that there was someone who made you feel something when, for him, you were his first everything.

When dinner time is over and everyone returns to their cells, you find yourself timidly entering Daryl's cell only because his door was still open, but staying close to it. He’s lying on his back, eyes fixed on the arrow in his hands just to keep himself busy.

“Hey. Uh, can we talk?”

“’bout what?”

His voice is flat, not a single emotion in it.

“About what happened in the dining room with Sean.”

 “What ‘bout it?”

You shrug, even if he isn’t looking at you.

“Don’t know exactly, but I think I made you feel uncomfortable.”

Daryl scoffs.

“Ya didn't make me feel anythin’.”

His words form a lump in your throat, completely silencing the truth you were going to tell, just because your own anxious mind tells you that you don't make him feel anything, at all, like never, and that is painful.

“Okay, uh, I don’t want to force you to talk so… I guess I’m gonna go. Oh, we'll leave early tomorrow for the run, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You sigh, walking away.

But jealousy is an irrational force, but a force of nature that resembles a hurricane, or any destructive phenomenon inside a timid and fearful mind: that’s why when the early morning arrives and the first ray of sun shines on the horizon, Daryl decides to switch places with Glenn, just so he wouldn't be stuck with his thoughts of you in a car for hours.

However, the day grows tedious for him, even in the small details like the wind blowing dust into his face, or the way the walkers keep piling up against the fence, taking the place of the lifeless body when Daryl stabs his knife into their skulls. But before his ocean–blue eyes can see the car returning at a worrying speed, his ears can hear the horn, like a desperate call that makes his heart wake up frantically.

“Someone is hurt.” Carol tells him, a second before they start running towards the main fence.

Maggie and Rick are closer and they open the gates, the car raising tornadoes of dust until it stopped inside the prison. Michonne steps out of the passenger seat as Daryl and Carol arrive to meet her, Bob and Glenn following as she begins to narrate the horror story.

“… and one of those men was behind me, (Y/N) shot him but another stabbed her in the abdomen.”

The back door of the car is open, but like a roller coaster of emotions, Daryl’s heart is so up that it threatens to stop because of the fear, as if it stopped pumping blood to replace it with an infinite void. But he refuses to listen to the death whispering in his ear that you won’t make it as he carries you, arms under your shoulders and knees.

“Call Hershel!” He says, to whoever is faster as Daryl starts waking fast, because, even though he wants to run to catch the seconds that seem to slip away, your body feels as fragile as porcelain.

And it’s crazy, it’s wild the way Herself has to perform a surgery to control the bleeding on the same table where the night before your and his playful fingers had teased each other, minutes before ruining it all with your silence and his jealousy. But when it's all over and the madness has cleared like a thick fog, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, taking in the way your closed eyelids make you look like you're just asleep and not unconscious.

“She will make up, Daryl.” Carol says softly, standing close to him. “It’s late, you should rest.”

He shakes his head.

“Nah. I’m stayin’ here with her. Don’ want her to be alone when she does.”

Carol nods, knowing perfectly nothing will change his mind.

“Okay, Pookie, I will come to check on you both in the morning.”

She kisses his forehead, but Daryl is too absent to notice as she leaves the room. The entire prison falls into a deep sleep, and Daryl can hear the almost imperceptible sound of your breathing fighting against the almost deafening silence of his world, telling him without words that you are there, and that you are not going anywhere. But after a while, Daryl lies down on his right side, still close to the edge of the bed to give you all the space you needed, but able to leave only that small space between his body and yours.

“Fuck… now I know I love ya, peach.” He whispers, shy and scared you can hear him even like that. “That seems to be the only answer to why I almost lost ma shit when I saw ya there… bleedin’ out. Jesus, ya would probably laugh if ya saw me here now scared to death like a damn child.” Daryl tries to laugh, a nervous little laugh that falls to a heavy sigh. “Please, wake up, okay? I promise I’ll be better.”

But since there is no answer from the other end, his words hang in the air for the rest of the night, even after Daryl falls asleep. However, as the sun begins to peek through one of the prison's tall windows one more time, your eyelids open slightly, the world in front of you blurring for an instant, until your scattered senses become one and focus on the pain pounding your abdomen.

But still, you turn your head slightly to the side when your peripheral vision catches a body beside yours, smiling weakly at the image before you. Daryl's hair covers part of his closed eyes, but his slight frown reflects his concern, even if you don't know that.

You raise your arm until your hand touches the skin of his face, soft flesh under your fingers.

“Daryl?” Your voice brings him back easily, walking him up from that terrifying dream as he sits up, his hand cupping the side of your face just to feel that you're actually awake.

"Ya okay, peach, ya okay."

“Am I? Since when I’m here?”

Daryl sighs, but he decides to mask his fear with humor, just because he feels like he can spill all his feelings for you in a single second.

“Jus' a day, but ya took yer sweet time to wake up, woman.”

“Sorry.”

You chuckle shyly, but his gaze turns soft.

“Nah. Don’t be, I’m jus’ so glad ya came back.” Concern allows him to smile slightly, before telling you that he's going to go find Hershel.

The examination lasts a few minutes, until you two are left alone, again.

“Daryl…” One more time, your voice pulls his eyes towards yours the moment he sits back down. “Sean was messing with you. You know? I was going to tell you about it that night before all this, but you didn’t want to listen and I didn’t want to push you to.”

Embarrassed, Daryl lowers his head a little bit, watching you through his long hair.

“M’ sorry, peach. I was jealous of ‘em and I ended up sayin’ the wrong shit again.”

Them.

“Daryl, that’s exactly what I was going to tell you that night. There was never another guy, Sean made up that story to get a reaction out of you because even he can see how much you want to kick his ass every time you see him coming." You chuckle. "Besides, he’s gay.”

Daryl blinks, confused like never in his life.

“He is?”

You nod.

“Yep, really gay, but don’t worry, Sean has a crush on Glenn because you look too intimidating for his like.” You want to laugh, but you can see his own shame sinking his heart heavily, feeling the pain and guilt for letting you go alone, because Daryl is a protector: that is in his nature.

And when things went wrong, that weight fell on his shoulders.

"Sorry, I think I screwed this thing between us."

And in a second and with an overwhelming strength, you can see his eyes becoming teary with all the feelings he has inside him.

"No. You didn't, Daryl, unless you want this to end."

But he shakes his head.

"No. I don' want it to ever end."

You nod softly.

"Good." When your hand catches his, Daryl clings to it, but you don't force him to talk because you know better than anyone that it was difficult for him to express himself. "Now come, lie down and try to sleep. Okay?”

He nods, laying down next to you, too overwhelmed to speak his mind at that very moment, his hand still holding yours even after he falls asleep when his mind can no longer carry the full weight of his thoughts. But while he does, you can't help but smile slightly, because now, awake, you are convinced that his voice saying I love you was not just part of the dream you were having, sweet words you hope you can tell him soon.

[brain4stew]

Hiya!!!I was the one that requested cat reader,so sorry i didnt mention which ones i wanted!!!!-🪼 anon

Maybe all the forsaken killers(w/ mafioso if u want?) and chance and shedletsky?Tysm for responding:')))

Don’t be sorry, 🪼!! I probably should have specified it in my masters list, but I didn’t think of it. 😞

But anyway, I’ll see what I can do with your ask! 🫶🫶

(As the other posts; I do not entirely know the characters personalities and so, so they will probably, if not most likely be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something under the cut!! ;

(Survivors first.)

(Chance)

• This guy… I have a feeling he’ll be quite a menace towards you.

• Don’t get me wrong, he’s probably just curious! (No he’s not, he finds you rather cute.)

• When you’re not in any rounds, he’ll practically drag you to the couch in the lobby, and cuddle with you. (He’ll annoy you also.)

• He likes hearing you purr, and likes feeling the vibrations from you. It strangely soothes him.

• He does play with your ears and your tail, just swat at his hands, and he’ll put his hands up in feign surrender. (Keep an eye on that bastard.)

• When you’re in a round, he’ll immediately go and find you. Flipping his trustworthy (not) coin in the process. (He believes you’re walking luck for some reason.)

• He annoys you even when you’re doing generators, to reduce the time of the round. He plays with your ears and tail still. (He gets hit by spikes from John Doe, due to him being distracted…)

• Overall, he likes, if not loves annoying you.

(Shedletsky)

• …He gives you fried chicken. STRAIGHT UP. You’re a cat, no? Take the offered fried chicken!

• He’s just strangely interested in HOW and WHY you’re a cat. But he doesn’t question it.

• He does question if you need actual cat food and items however… (You don’t.)

• He yaps to you. A lot. You don’t mind it though, at least you get to listen to something to cure your boredom in the lobby.

• He does pull you to the couch also, cuddling you, causing him to fall asleep. (He ate too much fried chicken, that the mf fell asleep! 😭) You don’t mind it, for you enjoy laying and sleeping on him. (His stomach to be precise.)

• In rounds, he goes to find you, to protect you when you’re doing generators. (He’s got a sword, so trust him!)

• He’s not that distracted by your appearance, sure he does take glances at you, your ears and tail, but that’s basically it.

• (He ended up getting killed by his own creation, 1x1x1x1… What a shame… But, you somehow survived!)

• Overall, he’s chill with you.

(Killers)

(Jason)

• Jason doesn’t see you much, as you are somehow always hidden in rounds, but that’s alright. He just needs to kill everyone else to see where you are.

• …He managed to get all of your teammates annoyed at him, due to his hitbox…

• You, you were just lying by a tree, did you take a nap??

• When Jason gets to you, he’s… Confused, to say the least.

• He doesn’t know what to do, does he just, let you live, or does he kill you and win for his mother?

• He let you live, as you woke up and practically tackled him and cuddled him, while somehow still asleep?? How.

• He’s confused by your appearance, but doesn’t question it. He does NOT talk, whatsoever, so…

• Overall, he’s chill with you too.

(C00lkidd, platonic)

• We’ll say that you were an emotional support cat for him, as he doesn’t understand his own strength, and hurts most other kids and people.

• 007n7 just, saw how you didn’t mind the bone crushing hug C00lkidd gave you, and just, decided to take you with them.

• C00lkidd loves you! You’re adorable, and he enjoys playing with you!

• You don’t mind whatever damage he does to you, as you know he’s just a kid, and doesn’t understand his own strength.

• Overall, not the best out of everyone, but, he’s somewhat chill.

(John Doe)

• John Doe is… Fascinated, interested and confused by you.

• He doesn’t understand much of affection, even though he has, or had a wife, but, he likes you, he guesses.

• He does want to pet you, but, with his appearance, he can’t, unless he hurts you.

• You just have to show him affection in another way! Just rub your head against his, and he’ll probably understand it!

• He’s confused by your ears and tail, but doesn’t question it, he finds it cute for some reason.

• He listens to you when you ramble on about whatever you did today, occasionally taking glances at how your ears twitch, and your tail flick.

• Overall, he’s also chill with you! He’s confused, yeah, but oh well!

(1x1x1x1)

• …He’s a prick, to say the least.

• He first saw you when he awoke from being created by Shedletsky. You were scratching the air at Shedletsky, as he annoyed you a bit too much.

• That’s how he knew he’d like you for some reason. But why he actually does like you? It’s because he teases you about you being a damn cat.

• You of course… Scratch him for it, but he just laughs it off, finding it amusing. A little cat like you, scratching him? Your scratches feel like tickles to him.

• He pokes your nose, ears and tail time from time, enjoying how annoyed you become at him for it.

• Overall? A prick towards you, with a hidden soft spot for you.

(Mafioso)

• He likes you. Quite literally. I mean, he has a liberal (bunny), so why wouldn’t he like a cat like you?

• Whenever you’re going to groom yourself, he’s magically nearby, and asks if you’ll let him brush your hair, and wash and clean your ears and tail.

• You get surprised time from time, but agree. (You end up drowsy afterwards, as he helps you.)

• He once found you and his bunny cuddled up together, and he secretly took a picture of it. (You both looked so adorable!!)

• He lets you sleep on his bed with him, cuddled up together. And when I tell you he’s so gentle with you when you’re asleep… It’s a stark contrast to how he is with people in debt.

• He sometimes throws his coat over you, which you almost flop down from. Causing him to snort a little at it.

• Overall? He can be very chill, but also a little prick sometimes.

[dawngyu]

OKAY, NINA. YOU KNOW HOW I patiently waited for this like the good girl I am… RIGHT??

BUT 26K. LIKE, WOW. OKAY. (I’M LIVING FOR THIS DAY BECAUSE OF IT, BUT THOSE TAGS? THEY’RE GIVING ME HEART PALPITATIONS.)

spoilers under the cut!

The first few paragraphs? UGH. I adore how you wrote them. Her inner monologue?? I’m such a sucker for that because it explains so much and sets the perfect mood—and you NAILED it. Wowowow. The way she’s torn between Beomgyu and Soobin… I know you planted those seeds back in Part 1, but girl, you reaped them beautifully here. You’re insanely talented—I swear, I need to kiss you.

And the dialogues—I love how you bring out each character’s personality just through how they speak. Her longing for Soobin?? My GOD. I’m on the verge of sobbing.

“I think so. If not, then I’ll be at Soobin’s place.”

For the first time, Beomgyu has the decency to not make a face when you bring up Soobin. Instead, he looks away and lets out a heavy exhale. Well, improvement is improvement. You’ll take it.

“Who else will be there?” he asks.

“Some of his friends.” You see him tense a bit at your side from the information. A slight unease fills you, but you don’t let it consume your mood. Tonight will be fun. You can’t let anything ruin it already.

“Are they all guys?”

You pause for a second in thought. “I’m not sure.”

He looks down and shakes his head in disbelief. “So you’re going to his place with a bunch of random guys?”

OKAY—this scene was such an eye-opener for who Beomgyu really is. I’ve dated a guy like this before… and let me tell you, it did not end well. (We dated—like, full-on dated. And here? They’re not even official yet. But I’m trying to adjust my lens because it’s GYU??? Sick behavior.)

AHHH, THE SCENES WITH TAEHYUN, KAI, AND SOOBIN. (SOOBIN IS GIVING ME BUTTERFLIES.) My heart twists every time with Soobin. The fact that he wants her to be his before kissing her? A label. A clear signal. His integrity… honestly, it’s making me feel so small.

“Don’t worry about it. You could take a year if you need.” His words are so effortless, and he really means it, which pushes your heart further towards a path alongside him.

IM GONNA CRY???

“You want me to change? You want me to be more like him?” he asks. There’s something unhinged in his expression. It’s like he’s losing his grip on his sanity. Fear creeps up your spine, but it doesn’t overshadow your frustration.

OKAY, BEOMGYU?? NINA?? I SCREAMED. WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. F. The manipulation—I can’t. He knows he can’t win her heart yet… so he tries to get to her physically. AND THE SMUT?? HELLO?? It has me in a chokehold—I don’t even know if I’m breathing right now…

OKAY, YEONJUN CAME IN STRONG HERE. But honestly, I’m glad he told her what Beomgyu’s been saying behind her back. A guy who kisses and tells… sighs deeply I’m unwell. The confrontation is inevitable at this point, and is it safe to say I’m crying now? Because you’re starting to crush my heart.

GOD. YOUR WRITING. I HATE THAT I LOVE U.

The manipulation Beomgyu’s pulling—UGHHH ASJDHASDG. I fear it would work on me… banging my head against the wall.

Somehow, Beomgyu becomes the only person you don’t feel guilty being around. When you’re with Soobin, you feel guilty for what you’ve done with Beomgyu. When you’re with Chaewon, you feel guilty for not taking her advice and controlling your life more. With Beomgyu, you don’t have to feel guilty, as long as you don’t let yourself think too hard.

OH NO. I see it now… THE FACT THAT HER PHONE WENT MISSING?? AUSDGHUAISGD. I’m officially starting to have trust issues too. This just proves how deep and immersed I am in your writing.

He drops to his knees as a sob escapes him. Unintelligible pleading escapes his lips, but you can’t allow it into your mind. If you stay here a second longer, he’s going to find your soft spots and attack. Adrenaline forces you to start moving.

THIS. OMG. I’M AFRAID THIS MIGHT WORK ON ME TOO. I’m so sorry. (God… the writing. Again.)

And honestly, I feel for the reader. Sometimes, when you really want someone and the path to them feels impossible, it’s so easy to fall for someone else’s manipulation—because it seems easier. But deep down, it’s not. Ugh, I don’t know. I’m so conflicted.

“He fell for you?” he fills in. “I can see why.” He brushes your hair back. Even now, his smile is pure and soft.

i’m crying… completely lost for words. you’ve absolutely shattered my heart. don’t think I’ll be able to process this for at least three business days.

He steps back. “I’m glad I knew you. You’re the best thing this city has to offer.”

:((((( (kms)

I honestly don’t even know how I managed to finish this… Maybe it’s the tissues piling up on my desk from wiping my eyes that got me through. I love it. I love how you, time and time again, differentiated Soobin and Beomgyu—their positives, their flaws. The way you balanced it all was perfect. And the way you ended it? I have to say, you’re such a brave writer for choosing that path. Because at the end of the day, THIS IS YOUR FIC.

I’m truly honored to have had the chance to read this masterpiece—and even more honored to call you my friend.

I can’t wait to see what else you’ll bring. I love you ninaaa. xxx

PS: you deserve an award for writing this, really.

cold, cursed city (part 2)

summary: You wish your best friend would just leave your budding relationship alone.

pairings: beomgyu x fem!reader, soobin x fem!reader

word count: 26k

tags: ANGST, smut (MDNI), best friend and roommate!beomgyu, crush!soobin, possessiveness, manipulation, arguments, very bad reckless dumb decisions, codependency, beomgyu gets a bit crazy

smut tags: multiple smut scenes yet again sigh, switch!gyu, switch!reader, handjob, masturbation, fingering, squirting lollll, praise, degradation, pet names (puppy, baby, etc), overstimulation, edging, dacryphilia, mind breaking kinda, utilization of a mirror, some pussy slapping, dubcon!! please beware!

notes: the smut here is so depravedddjshjshdjdjhs 😭 mind the angst in all caps btw… don’t get too mad at me LMAO. this is the final part btw! enjoyyyy<3

Being home feels so awkward now. You feel like you have to avoid Beomgyu, and that’s something you never would have imagined. You wonder if there’s any going back now in your friendship. Will it ever be normal again? It will take some time, you think, but you don’t doubt it. You can’t doubt it. It’s just that you need some time right now.

A part of you is thankful that he leaves you alone. It reprieves you of the constant guilt you were battling with, and you can talk to Soobin without feeling like a liar. Another part of you is terrified that he’s leaving you alone. It’s so unlike him to not be clingy and talkative. You wonder what he’s been going through these past few days.

You don’t even eat dinner together anymore. When you get home from work, you grab something quick to eat and go to your room as soon as you’re finished. The only times you’ve seen Beomgyu since your last conversation is in passing, when you see his figure walk down the hall or pop back into his room.

You really hope he’s okay. You can’t stand to dwell on it too much, obsessing over how he might be dealing with this. Maybe it’s been easy for him. Honestly, he probably needed this too. He must have been going insane the same way you were in his attempts to keep you to himself.

But you do miss him. You miss him when you’re sitting at the table, staring at an empty chair across from you. You miss him when you’re wiping off your makeup, looking for his presence behind you in the mirror. You miss him when you’re laying in bed, watching a movie on your laptop all alone. You miss him a lot.

You’re getting ready for work, staring blankly at yourself in the mirror as you fix your hair. You don’t really have anything to look forward to today. You’re not seeing Soobin after work, Chaewon’s been busy all week, and Beomgyu’s not talking to you. Maybe you’ll invite one of your other friends to hang out later. You hate feeling so lonely.

You grab your purse and head to the kitchen, opening a breakfast bar to eat before you put on your jacket and shoes. You’re about to head out, but a small bright-colored paper on your fridge catches your attention. That wasn’t there last night. You step closer to the fridge and lean in to read the post-it note.

Won’t be back till late tonight. Also eat up the fruits they’re gonna go bad!

Huh, you wonder why he didn’t just text you that. You take the note off the fridge and fold it neatly into your pocket. Your hand is wrapped around it for the whole duration of your walk to work.

When you get back home, you already know what you’ll eat for dinner. You feel a little happier than you have been the past few days as you bite down on the fruits, feeling giddy at the smallest hint of reconnection with Beomgyu. Not talking to him for so long was taking a toll on you.

After you finish cleaning up, you decide to write Beomgyu a note too.

Fruit is all done. Mission accomplished

With a satisfied smile, you stick the post-it on the same spot Beomgyu put his. Maybe a part of you hopes he’ll hang onto it the same way you did with his.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Beomgyu normally isn’t awake when you leave for work; today, he is. You stop in your tracks for a second when you see him sitting at the table, resting his head on his arms. You consider stepping into the bathroom to give him time to run off to his room, but decide against it when he looks at you with brightened eyes.

“Good morning,” he says when you finally enter the kitchen. You give him a small smile.

“You’re up early,” you note as you grab something quick for breakfast. You keep your distance, standing at the counter even if you yearn to leap into the seat across from him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he explains simply.

“About what?” You keep your guard up.

“Anything,” he says. “I just miss talking to you.” Your standoffish demeanor melts, and your eyes soften. You know how he feels.

“Me too.” You finally move into your seat, excited to finally see something besides an empty chair when you eat here. “What have you been up to recently?”

He shrugs. “Playing games. Sitting in my room. Working. What about you?”

“Pretty much nothing,” you answer. While a part of the conversation does feel weird, seeing as you’re trying to reconnect with your literal best friend, it doesn’t feel stiff or awkward. You’re more happy than anything to hear his voice again. It’s been a long few days.

“We need to do more with our lives,” Beomgyu laughs. It feels good to see a smile on his face again.

“No literally, my screen time this week is embarrassing. Netflix has seen me more than you have in the past five days.” You mean it as a lighthearted joke, but Beomgyu only frowns a little at that. He looks away for a few seconds, then back at you with a gleam in his eyes.

“Why don’t we do a movie night tonight then?” he offers. You light up at his suggestion.

“Yes! I’ll pick up some take-out for dinner too.” You clasp your hands in excitement. A semblance of normalcy is coming back to you, and it tastes so sweet.

“I’m so happy,” Beomgyu says, and it shows on his face. You resist the urge to pat his head at how cute he is.

“Me too.” You get up from your chair and throw out your trash. “I’ve gotta head out now,” you announce, looking at the time.

“Okay, have fun at work!” You feel his stare on you as you gather all your things and move towards the door.

“Thanks, I’ll try,” you say before heading out.

Work feels less stressful today. You don’t feel as frustrated at your little mistakes as you have been recently. You talk to your coworkers a little more than usual at lunch, and you even offer to help on an overdue project for the company, feeling more generous than usual.

As you walk back home, take-out bag in hand, you find yourself feeling foolish for ever worrying that you and Beomgyu couldn’t go back to normal. It was so easy to fall back into this, it’s as if it was second nature. As long as Beomgyu knows not to cross the line, this night will prove that you made the right choice. See, you can have both Soobin and Beomgyu in your life.

Your phone buzzes, and you fish it out of your pocket to check the notification. It’s a text from Soobin.

[Soobin] Hey, if you’re not busy do you want to grab dinner?

You pout, hating to have to reject him.

Omg I literally just got food :(

[Soobin] That’s okay!

[Soobin] There’s always tomorrow

Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling. Today is going so well, you almost can’t believe it. Finally, finally you get a day like this, where the world is kind to you again. Suddenly you find yourself more grateful for all the people you have in your life.

Tomorrow it is then!!

Beomgyu’s already sitting on the couch when you enter your apartment. You quickly take off your shoes and jacket so you can dash to your spot next to him, placing the take-out bag on the table in front of you.

“Hiii,” you greet while pulling a blanket into your lap.

“You’re finally back,” he says, smiling. You get yourself cozy as Beomgyu rips open the take-out bag, pulling out all the food.

“Yeah, I stayed a little longer to help with a few extra things.” You grab the remote to start scrolling through movie options. “What do you feel like watching?”

Beomgyu hums in thought. “Something scary?”

“That’s more for autumn, though,” you say. You start scrolling through some comedy movies instead. Those are always fun to watch with Beomgyu.

“Why’d you ask me what I want to watch then?” he laughs. You hold back your smile and whack his shoulder with the remote. He pouts at you in faux hurt as he places a hand over the impacted spot.

“Same reason you ask me what I want for dinner.” You scroll past a bunch of movies, trying to find one you haven’t seen that actually looks interesting. It’s a difficult task when you and Beomgyu have already watched so many movies together.

“It’s gonna take longer to find a movie than it is to watch one,” Beomgyu complains through a mouthful of food.

“Ew, finish chewing.” You keep your eyes on the screen, but you see him snicker in your peripheral. You finally land on a movie that sounds compelling, turning to Beomgyu to gauge his reaction.

He nods. “This one’s good.” You click on it and turn up the volume, then abandon the remote in favor of grabbing some food.

It feels just like a movie night a month ago would have felt. You fill the air with laughter and banter, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face. The only difference this time is that when you finish eating, you don’t cuddle into Beomgyu’s side. You have to be more mindful of keeping space between you now.

You laugh so hard at one point that you have to pause the movie to catch your breath and wipe your tears. “Oh my god, this was so needed,” you say to Beomgyu, still fighting off the last of your laughter.

“It literally was,” he agrees. “The past few days were legit the worst of my life.”

Your laughter finally dies when you hear that. “The worst? Why?”

Beomgyu laughs a little, but it doesn’t sound genuine. “I was scared that you hated me now.”

You turn your head to Beomgyu, but he doesn’t look back at you. God, did he seriously think that? You would never hate him. A weight falls onto your shoulders, and your heart aches.

“Well, don’t think like that ever again,” you say. He finally looks at you. You channel all your sincerity into your gaze. “Even if I’m mad at you, I still love you. You’re my best friend.”

It takes a second for him to react. He gives you a small smile that looks awfully forced, then looks down at his lap. “I love you too,” he says. You don’t want to ruminate on how weird that felt, so you take the remote to resume the movie.

“Back to watching,” you say, leaning back into the couch.

Once you finish the movie, Beomgyu helps you clean the mess on the table, and the light mood persists. You’re glad that you didn’t ruin your friendship with Beomgyu, cause you only feel this comfortable and at ease with a select few people. When you go to bed, you almost cry thinking about your day. You knew that you were having a hard time, but you didn’t realize how hard it was until you got a slice of your normal life back.

A feeling aside from happiness grows in your chest too, something more reflective: you feel proud of yourself. It was hard setting your boundaries with Beomgyu, but you’re so glad you did. Even this one day serves as evidence that you made the right choice.

You can barely fall asleep because you’re so happy, but you have work tomorrow, so you force your eyes shut and wait impatiently to see what the day brings.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

“How have you been?” Soobin asks as you seat yourself in front of him. The restaurant he chose is a warm, cozy one, which is a relief. You were worried that he might pick somewhere too fancy, because you had no time to change out of your office attire.

“I’ve actually been pretty good, how about you?” You’ve been looking forward to talking to Soobin again. Ever since he asked you to be his girlfriend, you’ve been itching to feel ready for the label. You won’t force it upon yourself, but you know you’ll be there soon. You’re once again reminded of how lucky you are that Soobin’s willing to wait for you.

“I’m good too,” he answers. You love his smile, you hope he never stops giving it to you. The two of you catch up a bit on life, talking about work and friends. He seems to have been busy this week.

The food at the restaurant is great, but that’s no surprise because Soobin always knows the best places in the city. The night passes quickly, and you find yourself walking back home all too soon. He accompanies you when you ask him to walk you to your apartment. You blamed it on how late it is, but it’s actually because you want more time with him.

“Are you free on Saturday?” Soobin asks, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“For you, yes. What do you have in mind?” You want to hold his hand so bad, but you don’t know if you’re at that stage yet. You crave the weight of his hand in your own, swinging between the two of you. You want to lean into his side and engulf yourself in the brewing romance.

“I was wondering if you’d like to meet my friends? I’ve been talking about you a lot, and I know I promised you I’d introduce them.”

You light up at that, making sure to look up at him so he sees your grin. “That would be so fun.”

You’re thrilled at the idea that he talks about you with his friends a lot. Whew. Good thing you’re already outside, cause you need the fresh air. He’s everything you could ask for in a man.

“We’d be meeting at my place if that’s okay,” he says, sounding a little shy as he brings it up. You can’t hold yourself back now—you grab his hand and squeeze it excitedly.

“Of course! I’m dying to see your home. And your friends.” You can imagine the nerdy little decorations he might have lying around his place. You’d let him ramble about each and every little trinket for hours on end if he wanted to.

You’ve arrived at your street all too soon, finding yourself wanting to slow your steps to get a little more time with Soobin. “Thank you for taking me out today,” you say as you see your apartment come into view. You stop walking so that you can fully turn your body toward him. You just want one last good look before you’re off.

“Thanks for giving me the time,” he responds. His warm, sincere words always find the right way to strike your heart.

“I’ll see you Saturday, then.” You send him a parting smile, backing up a couple steps. “Good night, Soobin.”

“Good night.”

As you walk away, you have a revelation. Your body aches to run back to him, you feel like you’re missing something and you can’t quite end the night yet. There’s something that leaves you feeling only half fulfilled. There’s something more you crave.

You wanted to kiss Soobin. Your wish is left ungranted, lips tingling with the feeling of what could have been.

Your feet pause for just a second when the realization hits you again. You wanted to kiss Soobin. You wanted to feel his arms around you, wrapped in a hug that meant more than just a hug. You wanted to hold his face in your hands, feel the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. You wanted to kiss him.

Oh, your poor heart. Where do you store all this longing?

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Saturday comes faster than you anticipate. You change into outfit after outfit, trying to find the perfect thing to wear. You don’t want to over dress, but you don’t want to look like you don’t care at all either. What do you even wear to a get together for a friend group you don’t know?

You settle on a cute dress that you bought while shopping with Chaewon some time ago. It’s modest enough to wear casually, but pretty enough to make you feel confident in it. You’ll have to wear tights to save your legs from the cold, but that’s okay. You move to your vanity so you can do your hair, looking at yourself in every angle in the mirror.

“Where are you headed?” The sudden voice startles you, and you turn around to see Beomgyu standing by your door. You didn’t even notice him enter your room. You wonder how long he’s been there.

You look back in the mirror, fixing your hair. “Just meeting some people,” you answer. Beomgyu steps closer to you, only stopping once there’s just a few inches separating you. You look at him through the mirror. His eyes trail down your body.

“Well, you look pretty.” He fixes the strap of your dress on your shoulder.

Your face heats up, and you forget what you were about to do. “Thank you.”

His hand trails down your arm and stops at your elbow, rubbing your skin. “Won’t you be cold?”

“I have a jacket. Plus, I’ll be indoors,” you answer.

He hums and nods. “Are you coming back tonight?”

“I think so. If not, then I’ll be at Soobin’s place.”

For the first time, Beomgyu has the decency to not make a face when you bring up Soobin. Instead, he looks away and lets out a heavy exhale. Well, improvement is improvement. You’ll take it.

“Who else will be there?” he asks.

“Some of his friends.” You see him tense a bit at your side from the information. A slight unease fills you, but you don’t let it consume your mood. Tonight will be fun. You can’t let anything ruin it already.

“Are they all guys?”

You pause for a second in thought. “I’m not sure.”

He looks down and shakes his head in disbelief. “So you’re going to his place with a bunch of random guys?”

You pucker your lips and look down, feeling like you’re getting scolded. Was this a bad decision? Maybe you should have done this at a public place. Beomgyu’s words worry you. Soobin’s not that kind of guy, though, and you’re sure his friends are just as great as he is. He’s thoughtful and always concerned about your feelings. You shouldn’t be nervous.

“I trust him,” you say, making Beomgyu scoff. “Gyu, please.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just… worried.” He meets your eyes in the mirror. He really does look worried. You realize that maybe it’s not selfishness driving his words this time, not the need to keep you to himself, but the need to make sure you’re safe. Your heart softens at that.

“I’ll be okay,” you promise, giving him a small smile. “I’ll call you if anything goes wrong.” He nods and stays quiet for a second.

“Where does he live?” Beomgyu asks. You freeze at his question, but he’s quick to explain, “So I know where to go if something happens.”

He means well, you’re sure, but you’re still wary about giving him Soobin’s address. Of course you understand his concern, but another part of you wonders what he’ll do with it if nothing happens. He doesn’t exactly have a great streak with Soobin.

Is this you being paranoid? You feel like you have a legitimate reason to be cautious, but you also feel bad for thinking about your best friend like he’s some freak that’ll show up to Soobin’s house for no reason.

“I’ll just share my location if it comes to that.” You hope he doesn’t feel offended.

“Let me walk you to his place at least,” Beomgyu pleads. You sigh, trying not to look at him and focusing on your appearance instead.

“Don’t be so worried. I’ll be back by ten. Does that make you happier?”

He doesn’t hide his smile. “You know it does. You should watch me play League when you get back.”

You roll your eyes. “Watch you get it on with your one true love?”

“Weirdo. I love more things than just League.”

“Like Overwatch?” That earns you a smack to the back of your head. “Hey! Careful with my hair!”

You catch a glimpse of the time when your phone lights up, and you realize you’ve been taking too long to get ready. Why does time only fly in the most inconvenient moments? You take one final glance at yourself, ignoring Beomgyu’s frame in the mirror beside you.

“You sure you don’t need me to walk you there?” Beomgyu asks. You turn to him with a smile, and it takes a surprising amount of effort to not go up and loop your hands around his neck. You can’t help but feel endeared by his cuteness. You stay quiet for a few seconds just to look into his eyes.

“I’m sure,” you finally answer. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” Beomgyu sits on your bed, and you wonder if that’s where he plans on staying while you’re out.

“Be safe,” he says as you’re heading out of your room.

You look over your shoulder with a grin. “No promises!” The flash of fear on his face makes you laugh. “I’m just kidding!”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You gather your breath as you stand before Soobin’s door, not wanting to knock until you’ve fully collected yourself. Your heart races in anticipation—well, also because you walked twice as fast as usual to get here, but mostly anticipation. Soobin seemed to get along with your friends, so you can assume that his friends should get along just fine with you too.

Finally, you tap your knuckles against the door, swaying on your feet as you wait for Soobin to emerge. It’s cold outside, the kind of cold where your breath fogs up with even the tiniest exhale, so you hope he’s quick to answer your knock.

You give Soobin a hug as soon as he opens the door. Part of it is to feed off some of his warmth, but most of it is because you’re excited to see him. His arms wrap around you to hold you close to him, and he doesn’t let go until you do.

“Are your friends here yet?” you ask when you pull away.

“Yes, they’re in the living room,” he answers. “Did you want a drink or anything?”

You shake your head. You’re too impatient to see his friends, wondering what kind of people he hangs out with. You follow him into the living room, and your eyes immediately fall on the two boys on the couch. It makes sense that his friend group is on the smaller side. They must be very close.

You wave and introduce yourself to his friends cheerfully. They do the same, and you learn that his friends are named Taehyun and Kai. Kai seems just as shy and endearingly awkward as Soobin, but Taehyun is pretty quick to open up to you. You find yourself talking to him a lot. You’re glad that you’re not the only chatty person here.

“So how’d you guys meet?” you eventually ask them, interested in how their friend group formed. The question makes Kai and Soobin laugh.

“I was friends with both of them before they knew each other,” Taehyun starts, leaning forward as he tells the story. “I had this match I wanted them to watch”—

“Match?” you interrupt, tilting your head.

“Yeah, I was really into boxing at the time.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the information. That explains his muscular physique. You can’t imagine Soobin watching a boxing match, though. “Oh, boxing, wow.”

“Obviously I won the match, but that’s beside the point.”

“You did not win,” Soobin chimes in with an incredulous laugh.

“Yes I did! I literally won by knockout!” Taehyun defends.

“I still feel like the other guy got way more hits in than you,” Soobin says.

“I think you’re just still mad from what happened that night.” That piques your interest.

“Why? What happened?” you ask.

“He’s gonna tell it way more dramatically than it was,” Soobin warns.

“That’s probably true,” Kai chimes in.

“I’ll say exactly what happened,” Taehyun starts. “After my match, I went to Soobin and Kai, and we all got to talking. Eventually, I brought them to the practice rooms so I could show them some basic MMA moves.”

“After basically forcing us to!” Soobin exclaims. “I tried to say no!”

Taehyun starts laughing already, seemingly caught up in the memory. It puts a smile on your face as you wait for him to finish the story. “These guys start swinging with the weakest moves I’ve seen in my life,” he says through his laughter. “And I was trying to motivate them, but when I pushed the sandbag so it would swing toward Soobin, it hit him so hard it knocked him over.”

You cover your mouth with your hands, concealing your amusement and looking towards Soobin to gauge his reaction to the story. He wears a sheepish smile and leans his head down, rubbing his arm to ease his embarrassment. Taehyun’s still laughing his ass off when you look back at him.

Kai stands to Soobin’s defense, “He didn’t really get knocked over, he just stumbled back.”

“He did more than stumble back,” Taehyun says. “He had his arms swinging in circles to save himself and everything.” That image gets a chuckle out of you.

“So upon my first impression of Soobin, I could tell he was on the unathletic side. I kind of am too, though,” Kai says.

“Don’t worry, Soobin. I don’t think I’d fare any better in the MMA world,” you say.

“We can be the world class losers of boxing instead,” he jokes.

The night lives on with lots of laughter and snacks. You start playing card games at one point, to which they have to extensively explain the rules first, and you end up having more fun than you expected to have. Turns out you’re not too shabby of a Spades player.

Taehyun and Kai head out after a couple hours, saying goodbye to you and telling you that they hope to see you again soon. You actually enjoyed yourself a lot today, so you wouldn’t mind seeing them again either.

Once Soobin’s friends are out the door, it leaves just the two of you in his living room. You see Soobin yawning and stretching out in his chair. “Are you tired?” you ask. His sleepy nod makes you laugh a little.

“You can sleep on my bed if you want. I’ll take the couch,” Soobin offers. What a sweetheart. You must be smiling so stupidly, but you can’t help it. Your heart is a fickle thing.

“Thank you, but I promised Beomgyu I’d come back home tonight,” you say.

Soobin looks out the window. “It’s so dark out, though. And it’s freezing, your jacket won’t be enough. Your legs will be ice.”

“It’s okay, I’m good at handling the cold.” You aren’t really, but you don’t want him to worry. He frowns, looking down at your outfit.

“You didn’t have to dress up for me. I think you look pretty in everything. I’d love for you to dress warmly next time.” There’s a distinct hammering in your chest now. His compliment makes you weak in the knees.

He grabs your coat and delivers it to you. You thank him as you put it on, zipping it all the way up to prepare for the cold. You smile up at him in hopes that it eases his worries.

“Let me grab you a winter hat,” Soobin says, disappearing for a minute. He emerges once more with a beanie in hand, placing it on your head for you. “There. To keep your ears warm.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking down at yourself shyly. You’re not the type to get all flustered and quiet, but something about Soobin brings it out of you.

“Thanks for seeing me, and for meeting my friends.” You meet his eyes again when he says that.

“Of course. Today was fun,” you say. You stare at each other for a few long seconds as you linger by his door. You don’t really want to leave.

Soobin is every bit as handsome as ever, and suddenly it’s killing you that you’re not all over him. You want to grab his shoulders and pull him close, let your souls intertwine for just a few moments. You want to feel his breath on your face, you want his eyes on your lips and a yearning to stir inside him.

Your heart jumps, every thought in your head is filled with something about kissing Soobin. You’re so easily reduced to instincts when your mind is clouded like this. Your face is pulled by some unknown force closer and closer toward his face. Your eyelids flutter, and you tilt your head just slightly.

All to meet nothing.

“Not yet…” Soobin says, slowly retracting his face. You watch him back away from you, and the inches start to feel like miles. A sense of humiliation washes over you. Your face heats up. Why did you do that?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking up at him apologetically. At least he doesn’t seem mad or upset—that would kill you.

He shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t be.” He presses his lips to your forehead. You reach for his hand, holding it so that you know he won’t try to leave. He accepts your touch easily, lacing your fingers together and staring into your eyes. There’s a warmth in there that makes you want to lean in and try to kiss him again, but your humility saves you from that.

“Can I ask, when will you be ready?” Your voice is meek, and a part of you almost fears his answer.

“Whenever you’re ready to call me your boyfriend,” he answers softly, simply. You nod, considering his words. Your gaze must be distant because you’re so deep in your thoughts, wondering if maybe you are ready now.

Does your heart stop at the idea of calling him yours because it entices you, or because it scares you? You don’t want to waste Soobin’s time standing here to contemplate it; you know you’re going to need more than a couple minutes to figure this out. No matter how much you want to, you can’t act on impulse with him—you want to foster a love that’s true and natural.

“I think I’ll have that answer soon,” you say.

“Don’t worry about it. You could take a year if you need.” His words are so effortless, and he really means it, which pushes your heart further towards a path alongside him.

“I’ll see you soon,” you say, blinking up at him sweetly with a small smile.

He squeezes your hands. “Soon can’t come soon enough.”

You giggle, then stand on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. “As a goodbye present.” His blushing cheeks at your action serve as a goodbye present for you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Something changed last night. Your mind can’t stray from Soobin for too long, wondering when you’ll see him next, what he’s doing right now, how his day has been. You feel a yearning unlike any kind you’ve felt before. Your girlish heart has become something weak, so prone to go haywire at the slightest thought of him.

More than anything else, you think of calling him yours. You think of how you’d be able to spend the night at his place, cuddling up to him and falling asleep in his arms. You think of how you could stare into his eyes and call him your boyfriend. You could lean in and kiss him whenever you wanted, you could let him call you sweet pet names.

You think you might be ready. You want to be Soobin’s girlfriend.

You’re freaking out, body buzzing as you pace around your room, waiting for Chaewon to pick up the phone.

“Heyyyyy,” her voice greets through the phone, and you finally stop pacing to focus on talking.

“I got huge Soobin news,” you say, getting straight to the point.

“Tell me!!!” she screeches.

“I think I’m gonna ask him to be my boyfriend next time I see him.” That earns you an even higher pitched screech.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m so excited! Oh my god. What happened?”

“I literally just can’t stop thinking about being in a relationship with him. It feels like I’m going through withdrawals whenever I’m not with him. He’s been wanting to put a label on us, but I’ve been pushing it off till now,” you explain.

“I’m so invested in this. You would be the cutest couple ever. I will gladly be your third wheel and take all your cute Instagram photos for you,” she rambles.

“So you think it’s a good idea?” Her approval is important to you, and you’re desperate for her to give you a little more confidence in this.

“Yes, do it. As long as you make me your maid of honor.”

You laugh, so relieved that Chaewon supports you in this. You hope Beomgyu takes it just as well, but of course that’s wishful thinking.

“What’s the right way to ask him? Should I be casual or go all out with some extravagant date night?” you ask.

“Come on, it’s you we’re talking about. Obviously you’re gonna go crazy with it.” You laugh because she’s totally right.

“I’m thinking a hotel by the sea and a rose petal path to the bed. And candles, like so many it’s a fire hazard.”

“Yes, and then those eat me panties,” she adds. You burst out laughing at the idea. “Body oil too probably.”

“Oh, you got the whole vision. You want me to record it for you too?” you tease.

“No need, I’ll be hiding in your suite’s closet.”

“Thrilling. I finally get to help you live out your voyeuristic dreams.”

“Right? It’s a win-win,” she says. “But anyway, how do you think Beomgyu’s gonna react?”

You hum in thought. “I don’t know, but we’ve pretty much gone back to normal over the past few days. He didn’t put up a huge fight when I went to Soobin’s last night.”

“Girl, hold up. You went to Soobin’s place?!”

“Yep.”

She’s quiet for a second. “Did he rock your world?” You smile and roll your eyes.

“We didn’t have sex, I just met his friends. They were very nice, by the way.”

She tsks. “I’m so mad, you missed out on such a perfect opportunity to sex him up.”

“Well, I’ll let you know when that happens.”

“Please do.”

“Anyway,” you say, getting back on track. “I’ll tell Beomgyu when he gets back from work. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if he gets all annoying about it. It’s actually pissing me off just imagining it.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not his life. You don’t even have to tell him,” Chaewon reasons.

“I mean, he’s my best friend, he should know. You and him are the two people I talk to about everything.”

“Yeah, but at this point you should be more focused on protecting your peace. What Beomgyu doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

You know that Beomgyu would find out eventually, though, and then he’d be even more mad at you for not saying something sooner. Any peace you’d have would be very temporary and delicate.

Chaewon starts up again, “I honestly think you should tell him after you make things official. That way he can’t stop you from doing it.”

You hold back a groan, not wanting to weigh out the options. “He’ll be so upset if I don’t tell him first,” you say.

“Still. He knows he can make you halt those plans, and I don’t want you getting hurt again.” You frown, but it softens you to hear how much Chaewon cares about your feelings.

“I’ve got a few hours until he comes back to decide,” you say.

“Just know that I’m one hundred percent team ‘don’t tell him’. Up to you, though.”

“I’ll let you know. Anyway, I’m gonna go now. Going to rehearse this conversation in my head.” Chaewon laughs and says her goodbye, then you hang up.

You drop onto your bed with a sigh. You hope Beomgyu can keep being normal about Soobin, and a part of you really thinks he can, but what if he hates you after this? He might decide he doesn’t want anything to do with you if you’re going to be in a relationship with a guy that he hates. (Hates for no reason, but that’s not something you choose to dwell on today.)

Beomgyu should understand why you want a love life. You crave a second half, someone who will mold you into a better person and navigate the rest of your life with you. Soobin can soften your rough edges. He’s got all the patience and goodness of heart that you need in someone. You want to know that a kind of love exists that you have not yet felt, something deeper and more colorful than anything you know. You want Soobin’s eyes to melt you each time you look into them, each time you think of them. Your heart has grown tired of just being a beating thing; it needs to be lit aflame, to burn for someone, to love so hard it doesn’t fear ruin.

Do you need Beomgyu’s permission for that? Is it as if he’s some guard to your heart? No, but the threat of conflict from his disapproval unnerves you. You try thinking of the best way to break the news to him.

Some long-winded explanation where you pour out your heart would probably irritate him most. You’ll have to keep yourself from going off on tangents—the more you say, the more ammunition he has against you. It’s not like you have to defend your decision to him.

If you’re too broad or dismissive about it, he’ll assume you don’t care or you’re hiding something. His accusations peeve you like nothing else, so the more you can avoid that, the better.

Realistically, his reaction doesn’t depend on your wording, for the most part. It depends on how mature he is about you getting a boyfriend. If he can’t handle the idea, then it won’t matter how you break the news, he’ll freak out no matter what. If he can accept that you can have other men in your life, then he won’t give you a hard time about this.

All you can do is hope for the better outcome. You pray that Beomgyu has learned his lesson in maturity by now.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

When you hear Beomgyu open the door, you rush down the hall to him. You’ve spent all day considering how to have the conversation about Soobin, and you’re excited to just get it over with now. The sooner this weight falls off your shoulders, the better.

“Hiii,” you greet as you watch him take off his coat and shoes.

“Hi. You hungry?” he asks. You shake your head.

“I had lunch an hour ago.” You notice he ordered food somewhere, which he just stuffs in the fridge.

“Do you wanna hang out with me and Yeonjun tomorrow night?” he asks. “We’re gonna watch some band perform at the common.”

“Depends how I feel after work.”

“Alright. You should definitely come though.” You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just don’t. You’ve got a different conversation on your mind anyway.

After a few seconds, Beomgyu starts walking off, but you call his name to stop him before he gets too far. He looks at you expectantly, raising his eyebrows.

“I wanted to talk about something,” you say. He remains still for a second, then carefully takes a few steps closer to you.

“Bad thing or good thing?” he asks.

You hesitate for a second. “Good thing.” You’re feeling nervous again, even though you know you shouldn’t be. Beomgyu’s been fine. He’ll survive if you tell him this.

“You don’t look like it’s a good thing,” he says. He must have caught on to your anxiety. Your fidgeting hands probably gave it away. You hold them behind your back so you stop fiddling with them. You breathe in as deeply as you can without making it too obvious that you’re calming your nerves.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to ask Soobin to be my boyfriend.”

You wait for a reaction. He blinks. Is that a good sign? He’s still breathing, too. Okay, so the news didn’t kill him at least.

“You’re asking him to be your boyfriend?” he repeats, as if he didn’t hear you right the first time.

Fuck, why is your heart pounding so hard? “Yes.”

He sighs and averts his gaze, looking around for a few awkward seconds. You tighten your lips, not really knowing what to do now.

“Your boyfriend?” he asks again.

You give him a curt nod. “Yep.”

You see it flash in his eyes then, something that brings you back to all those times he made your life so difficult. He doesn’t even need to say anything for you to start feeling disappointed, that expression was more than enough.

“I tried backing off, but I just can’t do it anymore. You can’t do this,” he insists. Your head is going to explode. Not this again. Things were going so well.

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it,” you say, but you know he won’t listen.

“I can’t stand it. I hate thinking about how much you like him, how you kiss him, how he’s doing everything I could be doing,” he rambles.

“I’m not hearing this,” you dismiss as you start walking down the hall to your room. You feel Beomgyu’s presence loom behind you. He sure is determined. “Knock it off, Gyu.”

He pushes the door open when you try to close it, stepping in and facing your hard stare. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t back off. You feel inclined to be stubborn and stand your ground too.

“You want me to change? You want me to be more like him?” he asks. There’s something unhinged in his expression. It’s like he’s losing his grip on his sanity. Fear creeps up your spine, but it doesn’t overshadow your frustration.

“No, I like you the way you are,” you answer.

“No you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t need Soobin.” He sounds angry, you must have really bothered him this time. That’s okay. You’ll take this over his pity parties. It’s easier to fight fire with fire.

“I don’t need Soobin, I just like him,” you say.

“Then what’s wrong with me?” he counters. He’s really worked up this time, frustration radiating off of him.

“Nothing! You need to stop with this!” you exclaim. You’ve never had an argument like this with him, fueled by rage and nothing else. There’s no undertones of sadness or attempts to remain calm this time.

“Just tell me you hate me,” he says, stepping closer to you, invading your space. You meet his gaze, unwavering, even if you have to tilt your head up to challenge his stare.

“I don’t fucking hate you.” You cross your arms, not letting your guard down.

“Then prove it,” he says. You wonder if your eyes hold as much fire as his do right now. You refuse to back down. You refuse to lose this. He wants you to prove you don’t hate him? Fine.

You don’t let yourself think about it as you crash your lips onto his. You hold his head still, but it’s not like he was going to run away. He meets your lips with equal amounts passion and frustration. The kiss is nothing friendly or nice—it’s not soft and slow, not sweet, not the dreamlike kiss you’ve been waiting to have with Soobin. This feels less like a kiss and more like war.

You don’t hold yourself back, sucking and biting at his lips carelessly. Your fingers are pulling so hard at his hair that you know it has to hurt, but you don’t care. You hope it does. His hand is on your jaw, keeping you in place so he can lick into your mouth as he pleases.

You hope he tastes your anger on your lips. You hope your tongue feels bitter in his mouth, that it leaves burns in its wake. You hope this kiss will haunt him at night, that he’ll feel you lingering hours later, that he sees your face on his ceiling when he’s trying to fall asleep.

He can never settle for friendship. The simple life could have been so good if he accepted it. You were stupid to think he’d let things go back to normal and stay that way. You hate feeling so dumb. You hate being so easy.

“Is that what you fucking wanted?” you ask as you pull away from the kiss. You wipe your mouth to clear the saliva that collected there. He doesn’t answer, only pulling you in for another kiss, unforgiving and angry. Your teeth clash and he shoves his tongue into your mouth. He tangles his hands into your hair, pushing you deeper into the kiss.

You’ve never felt so angry at him in your life. You try to channel it all into the kiss, using more force than necessary. He should pay for doing this, for getting under your skin yet again.

He growls into your mouth—you guess he’s still angry too. Why should he be? You’re making out with him and no one else. If he wants to complain about that, then he must really be losing his mind.

You walk him backwards until he sits back on your bed, disconnecting your mouths so you can look down at him. His lips are swollen and coated with saliva. He’s hungry—starving—and can’t stand not touching you for even a second, so he grabs your hips and pulls you onto the bed with him.

There goes those walls you built up. There goes those weeks of putting in effort towards you and Soobin. You lose, again. Is this how it will always be with him? Was he playing the long game all along?

He knows you better than anyone. If anyone could figure out a way to set your life off course, it would be Beomgyu.

You have to get even with him. You have to stop taking everything lying down. You stare at him, who looks up at you like he’s waiting for your next move. Fucking prick. You’ll show him.

You shove his pants past his hips and pull his cock out to find him already fully hard. You’re not surprised. Precum oozes from his slit, leaking out on his tip. When you look up to see his face, he’s biting his lip in anticipation.

“Always need to have your fucking way, huh,” you say, squeezing the base of his cock. He throws his head back and moans, thrusting up into your fist. You let go of his dick to push his hips down with angry force. “Don’t you dare move.”

You spit into your hand and jerk his cock quickly, with little care as to how rough you are with him. You squeeze his length like you’re milking him, like you’re trying to get him to burst. If you can embarrass him and have him spilling all over himself in such a short amount of time, you’d feel on top of the world.

He’s thick and hot in your hand, but you don’t let it cloud your mind. You need to put him in his place. He doesn’t deserve a spot in the lustful crevices of your mind right now. This is about balancing the scale.

You keep your stare hard even as he cries and whimpers. You don’t let him see any reaction out of you, because the last thing you want is for him to take control of the situation again. At least like this, you feel like you’re not totally weak for him.

His hips jolt up and he gasps at your ministrations. He grabs onto your wrist, trying to pry you off.

“Behave,” your order, no room for compromise in your voice.

“Baby! Baby, stop, I’m gonna”—his sentence is cut off by a drawn-out moan. It’s like his body can’t decide whether to run away from your hand or rut into it.

“Fucking do it then,” you say through gritted teeth, fucking your fist over him faster. You spit onto his cock to lubricate it even more.

“No, not yet,” he pleads, breathing heavily. It’s cute watching him try to escape the feeling, but you won’t let him. You use your other hand to fondle his balls, and once you do that, he’s a goner. He’s spilling his seed onto your hand with his head thrown back and a loud cry. His hips stutter up into your fist, and his cock twitches in your hand. You feel a bit of a power high from that.

You slow down for only a few seconds before you’re pumping him wildly again. He looks at you with wide, helpless eyes. His body’s jolting with the shocks of overstimulation, and you can’t help but let out a laugh at that.

Beomgyu whimpers your name pathetically. His arms are shaking as they cling onto yours. You don’t relent, merciless as you try to coax another orgasm from him.

“It’s too much!” he cries, and you can even hear the shake in his voice.

“Take what I give you or I’ll leave,” you spit. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No! I can take it.” He pries his arms off you and keeps them at his sides, deciding he wants to be good and listen all of a sudden.

“That’s what I thought.” You twist your hand as it goes down on his length, squeezing harder. Your thumb swipes over his slit when it reaches the head of his cock. “Cum for me, dirty little puppy. Show me how filthy you are.”

As you command it, his orgasm crashes over him immediately. You watch in awe. It’s like he’s trained to follow your words. His hot cum lands on your hand yet again, and you continue jerking him until his high is over. You have to stop yourself from making him cum a third time, too addicted to his little sounds of pleasure.

“Thank you,” Beomgyu says breathlessly. You run your fingers through his hair with your clean hand.

“Looks like the dirty pup is good for something,” you coo condescendingly.

“I am good, let me show you. Sit on my face.” Before you can even respond, he’s already lying down and sticking his tongue out. You furrow your brows at his eagerness and decide to put his mouth to use a different way. Your cum-coated hand meets his tongue, and you let him lave at his mess all over you.

“Hm, guess your tongue is pretty good,” you say mindlessly as you watch him lick all his cum off you. When he finishes cleaning your hand, he sucks two of your fingers past his lips. You smirk and slowly fuck them in and out of his desperate mouth. He swirls his tongue around your digits, then licks up between them. He circles the tip of his tongue on the skin between your two fingers as if it was your clit. You wish it didn’t make your pussy throb.

You pull your fingers out of his mouth and spread them apart, admiring the strand of saliva that forms. You take off your bottoms and panties, and Beomgyu damn near starts panting in excitement.

“Yes, come sit on my face, let me taste your cunt,” he babbles, stars in his eyes. His excitement dies when your saliva-slickened fingers meet your core instead. You make sure he has a great view as you play with your pussy.

“You got me so nice and wet, thank you puppy.” Your voice is sweet, even if your motive is to torture him. You exaggerate your reactions to your touch, moaning extra loud when you circle your clit. Your other hand disappears under your shirt to play with your nipples. You bite your lip as you push your hips up into your hand.

Beomgyu sits up and watches you with a slackened jaw. He starts leaning in between your legs, and you push him away with a foot to his chest.

“Uh-uh, you can’t touch,” you tell him.

“But look! My fingers are longer and thicker than yours,” he says, holding out his hand. You roll your hips up into your hand, remembering the way his fingers felt inside you. You slip two fingers into your cunt to make up for the sudden emptiness you feel.

You fuck yourself with vigor, pistoning your fingers into you, putting on a good show for your best friend. You want him to think you’re not some weak girl who folds for his touch every time. Even though your body yearns for Beomgyu to take care of you, you have to make a point to him.

You get so lost in the feeling of your own fingers that you stop looking at Beomgyu, focusing entirely on the pleasure taking over. That was clearly a mistake, because suddenly you feel two of his fingers entering your pussy alongside your own. You cry out at the sensation, body shaking at the stretch.

It’s hard to move your hand now, but Beomgyu seems to find a way perfectly fine. “B-bad boy,” you scold, but your voice is so shaky that it holds no real bite. When he aims his fingers up, it forces your own to sit snug against your g-spot, resting there as Beomgyu jackhammers into you.

“See? Feels good,” he says. With his other hand, he rubs at your clit viciously, needing to please you more than you can please yourself. “This is so much better, right?”

Your body is buzzing, and you can’t even respond to him. Your mouth hangs open stupidly as he pulls moan after moan from you. A foreign pressure starts building inside of you, more intense than anything you’ve felt before. Your eyes widen and you try to pull your hips away, but Beomgyu’s determined.

“P-puppy, it feels different,” you manage to stutter out. His breath hitches and he connects his mouth to your inner thigh to kiss it. He doesn’t stop his ministrations—if anything, your words encourage him to go even harder.

“You’re gonna squirt for me?” he says with astonishment, and you feel his grin growing against your thigh. It’s blinding, the way the pleasure is consuming you. His hands are wild, working at you without mercy to bring you over the edge. It’s like he needs this more than you.

“I’m—nngh, oh god,” you stammer, body twitching away, but Beomgyu’s so desperate to see you fall apart that he doesn’t let you stray from the feeling for even a second. The pressure snaps and you cry out, legs kicking out as you release all over him. You feel your juices squirting out of you, and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve been embarrassed at how much seems to leak out.

Beomgyu loves it, lapping up what spills onto his wrist and your thighs. You’re shaking uncontrollably, immediately pulling your hand from your center once Beomgyu draws back. You focus more on gathering your breath after that orgasm than on Beomgyu’s tongue licking every inch of your thighs.

You flinch when his tongue finds your pussy, too sensitive to take anymore. You push his head away and sit up, snapping your legs shut. He pouts, but sits up as well.

“Was that good?” he asks, biting down a smile. He leans in like he really wants to know your answer.

You press your palms into your eyes like you’re relieving a headache. Rationality comes back to you, but there’s no point in yelling at him now. You’re the one who shoved your hand down his pants.

“You really don’t want me dating Soobin, huh?” You feel more exhausted than angry now.

“I’ll do so much worse if you make him your boyfriend,” he says.

You blink at him. Is that some kind of threat? “What do you mean?”

“Just don’t be with him and you won’t have to find out.” You don’t have it in you to fight him. If it was this easy for you to fall back on your word and get intimate with Beomgyu again, you might as well hold off on the boyfriend label anyway. Maybe you weren’t as ready as you thought you were.

“You can leave my room now,” you say, leaning your head against your pillow. You’ll probably spend the next hour contemplating everything you’ve been through in the past month. He doesn’t need to be there for that.

“Nah.” He lays down beside you. You inhale slowly, gathering the control to not push him off the mattress.

“Whatever.” You’ll just have your mini crisis with him next to you. It doesn’t even matter.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

To your surprise, you don’t feel completely miserable the next day. Of course, you go throughout the day feeling awful about ruining your chance to be with Soobin any time soon and angry at yourself for touching Beomgyu again, but besides that you’re feeling normal.

You wish your work day would have lasted a little longer—something you never thought you’d hope for—because when you get home and see Beomgyu on the couch, you’re already feeling annoyed. You were doing so good before yesterday. Seeing him is just a reminder of how much you screwed up.

He seems as giddy as he could ever be when you approach him on the couch. You grab a blanket and curl yourself into his side wordlessly, just wanting his warmth. He accepts it gratefully, throwing an arm over you and getting you comfortable.

You can’t even really feel upset. You’re familiar with this cycle already: Beomgyu will bitch about Soobin to you, you’ll get each other off, you’ll argue some more, then you’ll hang out like nothing happened. You put yourself back in this situation, so you spare yourself the pity.

“I’m so glad we’re back to this. It was killing me to not hold you all those days,” Beomgyu says before pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I don’t want you to be upset anymore.”

“I’m not upset,” you say flatly.

“I want you to be happy. I’m really happy now.” You only hum in acknowledgement. You don’t really have anything to say to that.

Some time passes in which you and Beomgyu watch television, except you’re mostly going on your phone and Beomgyu’s halfway to falling asleep. You get a notification from Soobin, making you freeze for a moment.

[Soobin] We should meet up tonight if you’re available :)

Beomgyu reads the text over your shoulder. “You better not say yes.” You flinch and back away from him, clutching your phone to your chest.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Cause you said you’d go with me and Yeonjun to the concert!” he whines.

“I didn’t say I was gonna go with you and Yeonjun,” you counter. The entitlement is crazy.

“I asked you first though. If you feel fine enough to hang out with Soobin, why can’t you hang out with me?” he asks.

“What have we been doing for the past hour?”

“That doesn’t count! We live with each other, we have to hang out at home.”

“Wow, ungrateful. You should thank the universe for each second you get to spend with me, home or not.”

“I do. I can show you how grateful I am too, if you want.” You roll your eyes at his suggestion.

“I think I’m okay,” you say. When you lift your phone back up, Beomgyu takes it from your hand and tosses it gently onto the floor. You watch it land a few feet away from you. You don’t feel like getting up to grab it, so you let the device stay where it is. You settle with insulting him instead, “You suck.”

“I don’t want you to hang out with him tonight,” he complains with a pout. “I want my best friend.”

“Gyu, you’ll live.” What a flair for the dramatics he has.

“Just this once, please,” he begs. “You know you’re going to feel guilty and awkward hanging out with Soobin after what we did yesterday anyway.”

Shit. You hate it when he’s right.

You sigh, “Fine.” You’re enveloped in his embrace immediately, face smushed into his chest as he cheers in victory. “This better be the best band I see perform in my life.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The concert is pretty mediocre. The band consists of some grungy college-aged boys who sing about being depressed and cheating on girls. Not quite your music of choice, but you enjoy your time as much as you can nonetheless.

Beomgyu’s arm stays slumped over your shoulders pretty much the entire time. For warmth reasons, you don’t complain, but it is pretty embarrassing to see Yeonjun looking at the two of you weirdly from time to time. He must be able to sense that something’s off between you.

Beomgyu splits off at some point to buy a water bottle somewhere, and you’re left alone to talk to Yeonjun. He doesn’t even spare you a glance at first, which makes you think he might be having a bad day.

“You like this band?” you ask him, breaking the silence. You’re confused why he glares at you when he finally turns his head your way.

“You like Beomgyu?” he retorts, voice filled with some weird scorn.

“Woah, what?”

“Aren’t you dating Soobin? Why are you letting Beomgyu touch you?”

You have no clue where this is coming from. Beomgyu must have been talking to Yeonjun about the things you two did together. “Did Beomgyu say something to you?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun says. “He’s been telling me all about how you’re sleeping with him while seeing Soobin.”

That motherfucker. He’s bragging about banging you to other guys? You’re nearly seeing red, but you keep your composure so you don’t look crazy in front of Yeonjun. “Soobin and I aren’t exclusive,” you defend.

Yeonjun gives you a humorless laugh. “Would you be happy if Soobin was fucking other girls right now?”

The thought puts a bitter taste in your mouth. “I wouldn’t like it, but I”—

“Don’t lie. You’d cry your heart out.” Yeonjun levels you with a knowing stare. You meet it, unwavering, but you know he’s right.

“You don’t know the whole story. I tried putting a stop to it,” you say.

“And what? You relapsed like he’s some drug? You need to get real.”

You want to be mad, but what’s the point? You’re getting reality checked, and it burns, but maybe Yeonjun’s right.

“Beomgyu puts up a fight every time I talk about Soobin. He won’t let me be.” You feel defensive, like you have to prove you’re not totally at fault.

“So you let him down easy with some pussy?” he asks with sizable disappointment in his voice. God, this is embarrassing.

“You don’t get it.” It’s not like you didn’t say no to him before. You tried removing yourself from the room, you tried telling him this can’t happen, you tried everything except leaving him. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t have to get it. You should do better.” The conversation ends at that, his words left to linger in your mind.

You stand silently beside Yeonjun and stare blankly at the band on the stage. Time has got to move a little faster. You pray Beomgyu doesn’t take much longer getting back.

When he does come back, you don’t let him cling to you like a magnet. He looks at you a little weird for rejecting his arm around you, but he doesn’t say anything until you get in his car.

“Are you okay? You seem kinda pissed.” His question only serves to irritate you further.

“You told Yeonjun that we sleep with each other?” You don’t hide the anger from your voice. He looks at you with wide eyes. Clearly he knows he fucked up. “I never once let you put your dick in me.”

Beomgyu breathes out slowly, then pouts his lips and taps awkwardly on the steering wheel. You allow him his minute of shameful silence before starting up again, “Do you just not respect me? I doubt you told him what exactly led to this.”

He still doesn’t look at you. He can try all the cute, pitiful tactics he wants, you’re not falling for it this time.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, head down like he’s hating his life right now. Good, you hope he is.

“If you’re really sorry then you’ll stop doing anything more than platonic with me.” He looks at you with upturned brows and scared eyes. It’s as if you spoke his worst fear into reality.

“No, I’ll tell Yeonjun I lied, I promise,” he pleads.

“Why? You didn’t lie. I’m just some whore you get to brag about, right?”

“No! I lied, I was wrong, I should have never opened my mouth to Yeonjun. I’m stupid.” Ugh, you can’t take his self-pity.

“We’re never crossing that line again. I was stupid. I’m actually glad Yeonjun gave me that reality check.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to stop, I’ll just shut my mouth about it now,” he says.

“I don’t want to risk ruining everything anymore.” He has nothing to say to that. It’s eerily quiet for a moment. “Can you bring us home now?”

He puts the car in drive. The ride is silent the whole way home.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The longest week of your life passes by, in which you barely hang out with Beomgyu, barely see Soobin, and barely talk to anyone. You consider it to be a reset week for you, trying to detach yourself from everyone else to focus on finding out what you want. With so many complicated relationships in your life, you need plenty of time to think this through.

You spend a lot of nights considering what exactly you want from Beomgyu and Soobin. You weigh all your thoughts out and philosophize them, waiting for something to click and show you all the answers. What you learn instead is that no amount of contemplation is going to clear things up for you completely.

When looking at it honestly, your life has been a mess of ups and downs since meeting Soobin. It’s not his fault at all—actually, when you try to pin the blame on someone, the dart lands like a bullseye on your own face. And it’s not that Soobin is a bad influence on your life, making you do all these stupid things; instead, it’s that you have no willpower when it comes to Beomgyu.

So, do you end things with Soobin? You rack your brain for a smart answer, but it’s hard to even think anything after forming that sentence. A pit of emptiness forms in your chest instead, and avoiding that uncomfortable feeling is within your own self-interest.

You itch to call Chaewon more times than you can count, but you don’t let yourself give in. You want this to be something you tackle without the influence of anyone else. You already know how Chaewon would tell you to solve this, anyway.

A couple nights throughout the week, Beomgyu has knocked on your door, and neither time did you let him in. Out of everyone you know, he has the biggest influence on you. Your rational mind is thrown out the window when it comes to him. You don’t think that’s something you can stop or control.

He texts you and makes sure you’re okay, which you’re grateful for. You still eat dinner with him, and you even let yourself indulge in one movie night, but you’re trying to keep your distance so you can keep your head clear.

You’re at a mental standstill, looking down a multitude of paths that have no clear end. You could move in with Chaewon and make Soobin your boyfriend. You could end things with Soobin and see if you can go back to normal with Beomgyu. You could do nothing and give up your hand in this game.

You feel like you’re finding a new law of arithmetic trying to decide what to do next. You’re not the thinking type—clearly, as if the past couple months haven’t been proof enough—so you earn no insight and all headache from this.

Go you, trying to be independent and figure out your life on your own. Look where that got you, huddled up in your bedroom and even more depressed than before. You need a drink.

Matter of fact—

Wanna go to a bar?

You don’t even have to wait a minute for Chaewon’s response. ‘Bar’ to her is exactly what ‘squirrel’ is to dogs.

[Chaewon] You already know my answer. I’m getting ready right nowwww

No boy talk or I’m ending my shit in front of you

You need one night to just let loose and stop thinking. You’ve had enough of deliberating upon the men in your life this week.

[Chaewon] Oh you need those drinks bad

[Chaewon] Okay noted

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You don’t expect to be interrogated as soon as you open the door to your apartment the next morning, but Beomgyu’s insistent prying serves as a lovely pairing with your massive hangover.

“Where were you last night?” he asks before you can even open the door all the way. You’re too busy adjusting to how bright the room is to process his question at first. You squint to save your eyeballs as much as you can. You walk right into Beomgyu when you try to properly enter the room. He holds your waist to steady your balance. “Are you drunk?” he asks.

You shake your head and instantly regret it, since it makes it feel like your brain is sloshing around inside your skull. “Hungover.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going out,” he says. He doesn’t sound mad or accusatory, but it still irritates you because you don’t want to deal with this right now.

“Didn’t realize I had to.”

“You always do when you go out drinking,” he reasons.

You sigh, “Yeah, well, I didn’t this time.”

He scrunches your brows as he takes in your tone. “Are you mad at me or something?”

You rub your eyes. You need to bury your head under your pillow, this light is killing you, and this conversation needs to be over with. “I’m not mad at you.”

He’s quiet for a second. “I feel like you are.”

“Okay. Have fun feeling like that.” You open one of the cabinets to look for some medicine.

“See? You’re talking to me like you’re mad at me. What did I do?” All your patience leaves you at that. You don’t want to be doing this right now.

You place the pill bottle onto the counter with more force than necessary and turn around abruptly to face Beomgyu. “I’m hungover. I don’t want to talk. Take a hint.”

He blinks at you stupidly, and it just annoys you more. You scoff and turn your attention back to the medicine.

“Were you with Soobin?” he asks, breaking the ten seconds of peace and quiet he allowed you.

You groan. “Does it matter? I could have fucked Soobin last night and it still wouldn’t be any of your concern.”

“Did you fuck Soobin last night?” he asks urgently now that you planted the thought in his head. You swallow your pills in place of answering him. He holds onto your arm to stop you from leaving when you try to walk past him. “Did you??”

“What if I did? Do you think you have any right to tell me anything about it?” You didn’t, obviously, but at this point you’ll say anything to get him to stop talking.

His jaw clenches and he tightens his lips, but you don’t give a damn what displays of anger he gives you. He could pull his arm back and get ready to punch you and you still wouldn’t waver. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for his answer.

“I just—I don’t get—You’re not even…” He sure is having trouble finding his words. Some defense he’s got built up.

“Interesting.” You turn, ready to storm off to your room, but he stops you once again.

His hands stay clung to your shoulders, not even blinking as he turns you back toward him. “Please just tell me who you went out with.” He almost reeks of desperation.

You’re annoyed and you don’t owe him shit, so you don’t open your mouth to give him a response. You shrug with a straight face.

He whines and leans his head down onto your shoulder like you’ve just stabbed him in the gut. You roll your eyes. He always has to be the victim. You might just trudge to your room with him clinging onto you if he doesn’t give this up. You’ll get to your bed one way or another.

“What did I do? I’m so sorry. Why are you so mad at me?” he says, voice breaking like he’s holding back tears. He nuzzles further into your shoulder.

“Gyu, I swear, I’m just tired and my head hurts. You had nothing to do with this until five minutes ago. So please get off of me.” You push against him to try to pry him away, but he locks his arms around you. You sigh deeply, accepting his embrace because it’s not like you can run from it. You wait until enough time has passed where it’s safe for you to pull away without him freaking out.

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asks, giving you those sweet puppy eyes that you’d melt over any other time. Unfortunately, you’re still pissy and in need of rest, so you don’t coddle Beomgyu like you know he wants you to.

“No.” His lips tilt up just slightly at that. He wipes his eyes dramatically.

“Can I lay down with you then?” he asks, eyes carrying all his hope.

You shouldn’t, but you don’t want to deal with his moping if you don’t let him. “If you stay quiet and keep your distance.”

You’re already walking to your room when you hear him start complaining, “Keep my distance!?” You don’t stop to respond. Now that you have your sight on your bed, nothing could stop you from getting wrapped up in your blankets.

You fall against the mattress with a groan, smushing your head into your pillow. You register the bed dip next to you with Beomgyu’s weight, and you’re half-surprised that he allows you a respectable amount of space. A good five minutes pass in which you nearly fall asleep just listening to yours and Beomgyu’s breathing. Silence is always fleeting with Beomgyu, though, and it’s not long until he has to break it.

“I’m sorry, I can’t stop thinking about this. Did you seriously… sleep with Soobin?” Beomgyu asks in a quiet voice, words coming out hesitantly like he’s almost scared to ask.

You sigh, turning your head so you’re facing him instead of being buried in a pillow. You blink slowly, still wanting to fall asleep. He’s pouting and looks like he feels bad for even asking. Luckily for him, most of your annoyance evaporated from you the moment you laid down.

“No, I didn’t. It was just me and Chaewon,” you answer. You let your eyes flutter shut again, assuming the conversation would be over now.

Nope. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier then?” You contemplate pretending to be asleep so that you don’t have to respond anymore, but you feel his arm wrap around your waist and you have to shove it off. There goes that idea. “And why can’t I hold you anymore?” he asks.

“Because of what we talked about after the concert.” Your eyes are still closed, but you bet he does something sassy in response like roll his eyes or curl his lips down.

“Well I think that’s stupid,” he says. You open your eyes to make sure he sees it when you scowl at him.

“You’re free to leave my room if you don’t want to respect my rules.”

“Putting rules on our friendship is so ridiculous,” he argues. “We have literally always been touchy with each other. Soobin can go cry about it if he thinks there’s a problem with that. Why should we change for him?”

“It’s me who’s putting these rules down, he never told me to do anything. It’s not just because of him, either.” Your head threatens to start pounding again.

“What else would it be for?”

“Us? Do you not worry that we’ll go too far and never be able to go back?” you ask incredulously, like the reasoning should be obvious. He must not fear losing this friendship the way you do.

“No, because I know nothing could break the bond between us.”

“Hooking up does. Don’t you see how much we’ve changed already? For the worse?” He’d be blind to deny that much.

“Hooking up didn’t change us, Soobin did,” he counters. He’s not holding anything back, overflowing with audacity today.

“I would have told you to stop with or without Soobin in my life.” Because you actually care about preserving your friendship. You know that a lifetime of shared memories is better than twenty minutes of sexual gratification.

“And you think this time will be any different from the last hundred times? You keep saying this is going to end, and then it doesn’t.”

“But I mean it this time,” you say with full confidence.

“You say that every time.”

“Then how about you make it easier for me and stop trying to get with me? It might make things easier if you actually fucking respected it when I try to lay down boundaries.”

“Or you can just say no to me, unless I’m that irresistible,” he snides. Is he serious? Does he think you’ve never tried to say no?

“Fuck you.” You turn away from him, done with this conversation. He doesn’t leave your bed, but he does keep his distance. Either he’s pissed off now too, or you’ve finally convinced him to respect you. Your bet’s on the former.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You’re getting ready to go out, wanting to spend your Sunday with Soobin. You haven’t seen him in a while, and you feel like you need this to clarify things for yourself. You aren’t supposed to meet him until later today, but you’re planning on running some errands first, and you might as well get ready now so you don’t have to rush to do it later.

The sounds of you roaming around your room seem to beckon Beomgyu over. He walks up to you with a soft smile on his face. “Heading out?” he asks.

“I am,” you confirm. You stop struggling with the necklace you were trying to put on and hand it to Beomgyu instead. You might as well make use of his presence. “Can you put this on for me?” You pull your hair off your neck to make it easier for him.

He’s able to secure the clasp much faster than you. He pats your shoulder when you’re all set, and you put your hair back down.

He’s quiet for a few seconds before he speaks up again, “I’m sorry for arguing with you yesterday.” He looks bashful as the apology rolls off his tongue.

You weren’t expecting that. You guys don’t really apologize to each other over small arguments, you just move on. You turn to face him so he can see your honesty. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He laughs. “I deserved it.”

You shake your head. “No you didn’t.”

You two smile at each other, and it’s times like this where life feels a little simpler. It’s surreal that you share your own little section of the world together, and that you still get to have these bonding moments years after meeting.

“I’m glad that I have you in my life,” you say. “Even when I’m hungover and annoyed at you.”

His response comes in the form of a giggle and a squeeze of your hand. You allow it, letting him be sentimental.

“Okay, I need to continue with my makeup now,” you say, pulling away to rummage through your products and find your eyelash curler. Beomgyu lingers behind you, just watching.

“This skirt is really cute,” Beomgyu says, pinching the fabric of it.

“Thanks, I thrifted it.” He hums and nods in response. A minute passes in which he silently observes you.

“You doll yourself up a lot when you go out with Soobin.” You slowly turn to face him, not understanding the point of his statement.

“Is that a problem?” you ask. You didn’t even tell him you were going out with Soobin.

“No. You look good.” You hum and pull out mascara from your vanity’s drawer. You lean forward as you apply it to your lashes, trying your best to ignore Beomgyu’s stare.

A part of you is admittedly confused that Beomgyu isn’t trying to stop you from leaving or fighting with you about seeing Soobin. Just now, he was actually the most collected you’ve ever seen him be when it comes to Soobin. You don’t want to jinx it, so you try to shift your thoughts somewhere else.

You and Soobin are going to the vintage market later, since you found out that you both share a love for vintage things. (For him, it’s old gaming systems and figurines, and for you, it’s clothes and home decor.) You’re thinking about trying to convince him to get dinner with you too, but that might be pushing your luck. You know he had some errands to run today too.

“Those are nice,” Beomgyu says. You don’t know what he means until you see in the mirror where he’s looking. You widen your eyes and straighten your posture immediately. Bent over the vanity like that, your panties were on full display under your skirt. And to think you were sharing a sentimental moment just a few minutes ago!

You scowl at him. “Thanks for staring, creep.” You shove your mascara back in the drawer.

“I’m sure Soobin would love them,” he says. You pause as you register his words. You’re not sure what his goal is, or why he suddenly switched up so much. You decide it’s best to not add fuel to the fire and just keep your mouth closed.

Beomgyu’s all fire though, and needs no fuel to keep going. “Your makeup’s really pretty too. You look like an angel.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask, voice full of suspicion. Even in his tone, you can hear his ulterior motives.

He comes closer to you with a grin, leaning his head on your shoulder and locking eyes with you in the mirror. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you feel a bit overwhelmed by his presence.

“I know you worked so hard getting pretty, but I don’t really think you should go out today… It’s windy, and you’ll be so, so cold in this…” He slowly pulls the thin strap of your top off your shoulder until it falls limp around your arm. His finger lightly traces the skin he revealed.

You’re not so curious what Beomgyu’s intentions are anymore. They’re pretty easy to guess now. “I’ll be fine,” you say.

He pouts, continuing to trace little swirls onto your skin. “You’ll get sick,” he adds.

“That’s not what you actually care about,” you say.

“I do though.” He places a kiss on your neck as if to show his earnestness.

“Beomgyu—no, this is too much.” You try pushing him off, but it’s as if he doesn’t feel your efforts at all. You give up after the second attempt.

“You should stay home with me so I don’t have to worry about you all day.” He stares at your side profile and brushes your hair back. He places another tender kiss on your neck, higher up this time. You try to fight any heat rising in your body from the action.

“Stop this,” you say, but it doesn’t sound so confident with how your voice shakes. You turn your head to look him in the eye. He just smiles up at you from where his head still leans on your shoulder. You hold back a gasp when his finger stops tracing lines on your skin and hooks under your bra strap instead, just barely starting to pull that aside too.

You’re so flustered by his finger slowly inching your bra strap down that you barely notice when his lips are back on your neck, attached to your pulse point like your heartbeat was calling for him.

“Y-you told me I could say no to you,” you remind him as his lips continue their slow descent down your neck.

“Yeah, if you actually meant it.” He places one last kiss to your skin, then props his head back on your shoulder to look into your eyes through the mirror. He smiles as if he likes what he finds; you must look as confused and malleable as you feel.

“You lied,” you say quietly, as if it’s a revelation to yourself and not a response to him.

“I didn’t. I’m just obsessed with pleasing you.” He runs his hands down your sides soothingly, then prompts you to bend with a gentle hand on your back.

“Beomgyu!” you squeak, fighting against the hand that beckons you down. You hold on tight to the edge of the vanity to keep your body up.

“Stop thinking. Let me take care of you.” His voice is so soft and coaxing, and you feel a sizable sense of shame hit you when arousal oozes from your cunt. An even greater amount of shame finds you when your arms shake and eventually give, letting Beomgyu ease you down until you’re bent over the vanity.

“We really can’t do this.” It might be too late to keep fighting, but you don’t want to suffer the consequences of this all over again.

“Shhh, baby,” he whispers as his hand travels down your back and settles on your hip, massaging the area.

Oh god. This is so bad. You’re supposed to be hanging out with Soobin in a few hours. You can’t do this right now.

“Gyu”—

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “Stop shaking, why are you so nervous?”

“I’m supposed to see Soobin today!” you squeak. He tsks.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop thinking?” A warm hand trails up your thigh. He doesn’t go under your skirt, he stays well enough away from your center, but something about his touch is still making your head spin. No one can make you lose reasonability like Beomgyu can.

You whine, and you don’t know if it’s out of defeat or out of need. You blink a tear from your eyes and follow Beomgyu’s advice: you stop thinking.

“Gyu…” You don’t even know what you’re calling him for. You hide your face in your arms so you don’t have to watch your reflection give up her fight.

“Yes, baby?” Your hips push out in search for his touch before you can stop yourself. Tears of shame pool in your eyes, and you're glad Beomgyu can’t see your face to coddle you for that. “You need something?”

You don’t respond. It’s embarrassing how bad you need his touch, but you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. A part of you wishes he’d leave you here like this so you could take care of your needs yourself.

He flips your skirt up with a careful hand, and you keep as still as possible. You try not to even breathe too hard. “You’re wet,” he says. “Want me to help you?”

What’s the point of asking? He went this far already. “No,” you say, and half of the reason is just to test if he’ll do it anyway.

“But you need me,” he says, brushing your hair out of your face and turning your head to him with his fingers on your chin. He looks at you like you’re a deer caught in a bear trap, like he’s being merciful to offer his help. You feel powerless when he looks at you like that.

His pitiful stare just makes you blink more tears out of your eyes, and you’d hide your face if you could, but he insists on keeping your head tilted towards him. He coos when the wet trails reach your cheeks, bringing a thumb up to wipe your tears.

“Do you wanna feel better?” he asks, continuing to spoil you with tender touches. He grabs your hand and lifts it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. You feel every bit the deer caught in the trap—Beomgyu’s got you in his claws now.

“I don’t know,” you say, pouting up at him.

“It’s okay. I’ll help you. Just tell me when to stop…” The light press of his fingertip against your clothed core makes you sigh, tension melting from your body. You close your eyes, shutting off your brain and relaxing into the feeling.

“That’s right, it feels so good, doesn’t it?” He circles your clit, keeping his touch feather-light. Even that much drives you crazy and makes your legs tremble. “Can I take these off?” His finger moves from your clit to hook beneath the hem of your panties.

“Please,” you say. He kisses your shoulder blade in appreciation.

“What nice manners.” Your panties are slowly peeled off of you until they hit the floor. The cold air hits your wet folds, making you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Beomgyu utters as he stares at your pussy. He brings a hand down and starts rubbing your clit, leaving you a gasping and mewling mess already. “I missed this cunt. God, you haunted me. You tortured me.”

He attaches his mouth to your neck, kissing down to your shoulder. You cry out when his tongue meets your skin, licking and nipping at whatever skin he has access to. You clench around nothing, making more arousal drip out of you. Beomgyu coats his fingers in the slickness and continues drawing tight circles onto your clit.

“Beomgyu!” you yelp out when he speeds up. He places a parting peck onto your jaw before leaning away to look at your face. He smiles down at you.

“You need something inside that wet little cunt? Are you aching for my fingers?” His words make you feel lightheaded. You’re already having trouble thinking clearly, but now with that thought in your mind, you’re a goner.

“Yes, I need you!” He’s quick to give you what you want, sinking two fingers in with ease. You’re left crying and panting as he fucks his digits into you, filthy sounds filling the room.

“You’re so hot,” he praises, pulling your head up with his fist in your hair. You’re forced to stare at your own reflection, met with an image of you that looks so unfamiliar. Your mouth is hung open, spilling out moans and cries as Beomgyu’s fingers continue ramming into you. Your makeup is smudged and no longer suitable to go out in. The strap of your shirt and bra still hangs limp on your arm, and that side of your neck is coated in Beomgyu’s saliva.

“I look like a slut,” you say, pouting only for a second before your mouth is forced open again around a whine.

“You look beautiful.” His fingers curl into you, searching for the spot that will have your eyes rolling back. Your legs tremble when he finds it, and you have to rebalance yourself, clutching onto the vanity to keep yourself up.

“There! Oh, god, Gyu!” His mouth is back on your throat, hot and wet as he sucks and tastes and kisses. He nibbles on your jaw, then moves up to breathe into your ear.

“Let me fuck you, let me fill you up,” he whispers. You clench around his fingers at the thought. He stills inside you and you whine. “Baby.” He holds your face so you’ll look at him. He presses a quick kiss to your lips. You’re too far gone to complain. “You need more, right? You need my dick inside you?”

He curls his fingers inside you once more, and your back arches at the sensation. You try not to get too heady at the idea of him splitting you with his cock. That’s the one thing that absolutely cannot happen, so you can’t let yourself give in to that.

“Tell me, or else you won’t cum at all,” he says, rubbing his fingers inside you so perfectly it leaves your legs shaking.

“No, please!” you exclaim, panicked at the prospect of him leaving you on the edge. Your frantic hands are quick to play with your clit and squeeze your tits, trying to get yourself off while his fingers are still inside of you.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you today?” he asks, moving his fingers slower so you won’t cum. You pout and push your hips toward him, but a strong hand of his retaliates and keeps you still.

“We can’t,” you say. Immediately, he pulls his fingers out of you. He slaps your pussy, making you yelp and shut your legs. He pries them back open and slaps you again, harder this time. His fingers collect your wetness and tease your entrance, but never slip back inside.

“Did my slut already give it up to Soobin? Because that would really piss me off,” he says, staring meanly at you as he waits for your answer.

“No! We never did anything together,” you answer, the truth leaving you easily when you’re so desperate for his touch. He huffs out a laugh.

“That’s right. You know you’re mine.” He’s so pleased that he decides to relieve some of your need, rubbing your clit. “No one else would be able to touch you like me. Tell me how I ruined you for any other man,” he prompts.

He pulls his fingers off of you and pushes his pants down, whipping his dick out and stroking it as he looks down at you. He taps your clit with the head of his cock and bites back a grin when you mewl at the action. He thrusts against your pussy, letting his length slide between your folds.

You have to cling onto reality and keep yourself from slipping into a brainless haze. It’s hard to do when his cock feels so girthy and hot against you. He would stretch you so nicely. Your cunt oozes at the thought.

“Say it,” Beomgyu demands, grabbing your face again so you’ll make eye contact with him. He leans over your body to do so, and you feel completely surrounded by him. His stare is hard and demanding. Your eyes bug out when you feel him press his tip against your entrance, pushing with just the slightest bit of pressure, but not quite sliding in. “Say it or I’ll fuck the words out of you.”

That scares you into compliance. “You ruined me for anyone else! Only you can make me cum! I only want your cock!” you chant thoughtlessly.

He laughs and smooths his hands down your body, resting them on your waist. “Good girl. Was that so hard?” He’s so condescending, but it makes you drip like crazy. He goes back to thrusting against your pussy, making you sigh in relief.

Beomgyu runs a hand under your shirt, squeezing your tits. Your back arches when he twists and pulls at your nipples while continuing to slide his cock through your folds. He takes his dick and starts swiping his tip over your clit rapidly, watching you spasm at the sensation with a grin. Your hole continues to flutter, aching to be stuffed with his cock. Unfortunately, Beomgyu takes notice of that.

“You need that hole filled, baby? Need to be nice and stretched?” He brings his tip back to your entrance. He circles around it teasingly, making you whine. You can’t let him fuck you. You need to keep at least that much from him.

“Don’t,” you plead, getting more antsy the longer he stays at your entrance.

“Don’t?” he repeats, but doesn’t move away.

“Please don’t!” you cry, unwilling to let him go that far. He finally relents.

“Then you’ll cum like this,” he huffs and goes back to stimulating your clit with the head of his cock. You moan out, pushing your hips down to feel him pressed against you more. Your mouth is dropped open in pleasure, eyes shutting as you focus on the feeling. Your legs shake and try to close, but Beomgyu urges them back open with his hand on your thigh.

You can’t form any coherent sentences, stuttering out a garbled mess of words that tells Beomgyu you’re right there. “Let go, baby, be good and cum for me,” he says, and your body obeys. You spasm everywhere as your orgasm takes over, breathing out in sweet relief. He’s moaning behind you, movements getting shakier as his release finds him.

Beomgyu pulls away so his cum lands on your ass, but his fingers play with your pussy to help you come down. Your legs clamp shut when it gets too much, and he takes that as a sign to stop. The sound of you and Beomgyu panting fills the room as you recover from your highs.

“Fuck, I wish I could take a picture of this,” Beomgyu says, staring at your ass painted with his seed. You can’t even think of a smart reply to that, still trying to get your breathing back to normal.

Beomgyu takes off his shirt to wipe you down with it. You’re glad he still has the mind to take care of you. You cringe when you feel him try to put your soiled panties back onto you. “Stop, I’ll just get a new pair,” you say, kicking his hands away.

You stand up and stretch, trying to avoid looking at your reflection as much as possible. You grab your phone to check the time. What catches your sight instead is a text notification from Soobin, and suddenly you feel sick. Beomgyu smirks when his eyes land on your screen. “You still going out with him today?”

You almost feel like you could cry. Was this his plan all along? You put your phone back down, unable to stand the guilt.

He wins again. “No, I’m not.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Your life recently has just been a continuous cycle of proving that you can, indeed, stoop even lower. You’re so confused how you even got to this point. Your fairytale relationship was lined up for you, it was supposed to be easy to stop whatever you’re doing with Beomgyu and make Soobin your boyfriend.

Things are more complicated and confusing than ever, a precedent you continuously find yourself in. You can’t grow accustomed to this. You’ll go crazy before you ever figure out why Beomgyu won’t quit. What is the root of his insecurity? Why is he so threatened by the idea of you having a boyfriend? You’ve already told him you won’t leave him.

When you notice that Beomgyu’s not home when you get back from work, you decide to invite Chaewon over to keep you company. You don’t feel like being alone with your thoughts right now.

She’s there in a heartbeat, and the two of you are quick to settle on the couch and watch a bit of the show she’s currently binging. You’re only half an episode in when you stop paying attention and start talking to Chaewon about life instead. It doesn’t take long for Chaewon to land on the million dollar question.

“Alright, this has been killing me since we went to the bar. What happened with Soobin?” Chaewon asks.

You want to punch yourself. This is so embarrassing. “Well…”

“I swear, if you…” she starts, and you know what she’s thinking.

“I did.” You get a hard smack on the arm for that. You deserved it, honestly.

“You fucked Beomgyu?!”

“He didn’t stick it in, but we did basically everything else,” you admit.

“Why?” she asks. “Everything was going so well.”

“I don’t know. Because I’m stupid. I tried to say no, but you know him.”

She looks a little horrified to hear that. “What?”

You scramble to explain, not wanting her to get the wrong idea, “I mean, like, I gave in and let myself enjoy it because he wasn’t stopping anyway.”

“Do you even know how concerning that sounds?” Chaewon asks, looking genuinely worried for you. “Seriously, are you okay?” She runs a hand down your arm to comfort you.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” Her eyes have lost all their hardness and accusation, and she looks at you with only pity now.

“How’d this happen? Give me the timeline,” Chaewon says, and you sigh as you try to recollect the whole story.

“I actually initiated it the first time we hooked up again,” you explain with a sense of shame. “I was angry, and he kept insisting that I hate him, so I kissed him. Then it went further.”

“I hate him,” Chaewon says with a bitter laugh. You frown, so she continues, “I do. I can’t stand him anymore. He knew he was cornering you when he said that shit.”

“Well, it worked. It keeps working. I tried again to stop after that, which is when he told me I should just say no and”—

“What the hell?” Chaewon interrupts, appalled. “As if you haven’t been saying no in a million different ways!”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” You shake your head and shrug defeatedly. “So the next time he tries to initiate something, I say no, and he doesn’t listen because he said he could tell I didn’t mean it.”

Chaewon’s jaw is dropped open. It takes a few seconds for her to get a response out. “I really hate him. I’m fuming for you.”

“Well, I didn’t tell him to stop once he really started touching me. I don’t know why. He told me to tell him when to stop, and I just… didn’t.”

“He needs to get it together. You need to give him an ultimatum.” The drastic measures make your heart pound. Beomgyu would lose it.

“I can’t,” you say. “Even if I did, he’d find a way around it again.”

“Stop giving him so much power over you. You need to detox yourself clean of him.” She says that like he’s some bacteria you can just flush out. He’s more like a parasite taking control of your whole being.

“But I live with him,” you reason.

“Then stay at mine. As long as you’re here with him, he’s going to keep doing this. He’s been messing with your head and ruining your life on purpose. It’s such bullshit. He’ll never take no for an answer,” Chaewon spits.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” You snap your head over to where the voice came from. Fuck. Beomgyu came home.

Your heart stops. You hold your breath, staring at him with wide eyes. What do you say? There’s no excuse that could get you out of this situation.

Chaewon on the other hand doesn’t seem scared at all—she seems furious. “You,” she answers, unphased at his attempt to intimidate her.

She rises from the couch and approaches him with quick footsteps. You get scared for a second that she might hit him, so you follow her quickly. She stops in front of Beomgyu, and you stand back, observing the scene with your nerves on edge. Beomgyu doesn’t back down, staring daggers into her.

“Beomgyu, you are the most disgusting excuse for a friend in the world,” Chaewon snaps. She pokes a finger against his chest to make her point. “I can only pray that karma gets you one day and makes you see what a piece of shit you are.”

Beomgyu looks at you while pointing at Chaewon. “You’re just gonna let her talk to me like this? Did you even tell her the full story?”

You see red at his accusation. “I told her everything, matter of fact.”

“Yeah? Then she should know that you’re just as much to blame as I am,” he says, walking away from Chaewon and towards you. “I can’t believe you’ve been shit-talking me with your friends for things you chose to do with me.”

Chaewon chimes in, “How much of a choice does she have if you’re bugging her nonstop until she gives in? Crying, fighting, begging. If you were fucking normal she’d already be with Soobin by now.”

Beomgyu doesn’t turn to look at Chaewon as she speaks, so his face is still close to yours as he takes in her words. He doesn’t look remorseful at all. He just looks pissed.

“You can leave, Chaewon,” he says, voice dripping with venom. He looks you in the eye even as he says that. It sends a chill down your spine.

Chaewon grabs your wrist and pulls you a few steps away from Beomgyu. “Come sleep at mine tonight,” she urges you. “You don’t deserve to hear whatever shit he’s gonna put you through.”

“Fuck that,” Beomgyu says. “Get out of my house.” He points to the door. You’re shocked at the slight raise in his voice. He’s never done that before.

Chaewon looks at you, waiting for you to say something. You feel like the smallest person alive because you can’t bring yourself to accept her offer. It would only strain your relationship with Beomgyu more.

“Don’t be mad at me, Chaewon,” you plead, even though that’s probably too much to ask for. But she’s Chaewon, and she carries all the understanding she’s ever had, so she doesn’t get mad at all.

She squeezes your hand. “Be smart,” she says, then wraps her arms around you for a tight hug. “Text me if you need anything,” she whispers in your ear.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper in hers. She pulls away and pats your hair down, looking sympathetic.

“I’ll see you soon,” she says, heading towards the door.

“See you.” You can’t bring yourself to sound happy or excited as you watch her leave. It feels like your life force has been drained out of you, and yet you’re nowhere near done with the arguments tonight. You turn to Beomgyu, already expecting it.

“Please don’t listen to her,” he says. You blink up at him, confused. He’s not going to get mad at you? “I don’t know what she’s telling you, but don’t listen to it.”

You don’t have it in you to fight him right now. “I just chose you again, Beomgyu, even if I shouldn’t have. That should tell you everything.” It’s the last thing you say before heading off to your room. You don’t think your pout leaves your face all night.

Time and time again, you prove you can’t change. You can’t prioritize anything over Beomgyu, not even yourself. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.

You want to believe you can grow as a person, but it’s so impossible when Beomgyu insists on bringing you back to square one every chance he gets. Chaewon’s offer rings in your head, telling you there is a way out. You could stay with her and leave behind all the mess that comes with being here.

Your eyes water. If only you weren’t so weak. You can’t imagine how that life would be better than one with Beomgyu in it. You can’t abandon him; for both his sake and your own, it’s better if you stay. You just have to get used to this being your new life.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Somehow, Beomgyu becomes the only person you don’t feel guilty being around. When you’re with Soobin, you feel guilty for what you’ve done with Beomgyu. When you’re with Chaewon, you feel guilty for not taking her advice and controlling your life more. With Beomgyu, you don’t have to feel guilty, as long as you don’t let yourself think too hard.

You end up spending most of your free time cooped up in his room. It’s better than being alone—your thoughts might send you spiraling if you’re left to deal with them on your own. If making you codependent was Beomgyu’s goal, it looks like he’s succeeding.

You let Beomgyu hold you in his bed, you let him wipe the tears off your face, you let him comfort you with peppered kisses all over your skin and honey coated words whispered into your ear. You let him do whatever he wants because it’s better than fighting with him and breaking yourself down even more.

You open your phone to see you’ve got a text from Soobin.

[Soobin] Are you free today?

Well, technically you are…

You look over at Beomgyu, still caught up in his game. You think of spending time with Soobin, lounging in some restaurant or walking across the city. It’s nice, but any of that niceness is crushed when you think of telling Beomgyu that you’re going out with Soobin. You think of his petty arguments, of the tricks he has up his sleeve, of all the right words he knows just when to say to keep things going his way. You’ve had such a shit week that you just don’t feel like ruining your weekend like that.

You send your response.

I’m not :(

You shut off your phone and lay it against your chest. You feel like you’re becoming an awful person. A few minutes later, Beomgyu cheers and claps at his screen, pushing his chair out a bit and looking back at you.

“Come look at this,” he says. You wrap a blanket around yourself as you trudge over to his desk. He points to each statistic and explains how awesome and amazing they are, looking to you for validation.

“Super cool.” You nod and try to pull an impressed look, but he can always see through your bullshit.

“Why do you sound like that? What happened?” he asks. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Curse him and his stupid ability to read your mind.

You sigh. “I just feel like I’m always lying to Soobin recently.”

Beomgyu, ever the asshole, just smiles at that. “Why?”

“He asked if I was free today and I said no,” you explain.

“Well that’s right. You’re hanging out with me.”

“But we don’t really have plans. We hang out like this every day.” You don’t fight it when he pulls you into his lap. You relax into him.

“Just stop dragging him along. This is going nowhere.”

“It could, though,” you say.

“It couldn’t,” Beomgyu denies with complete certainty. He runs his fingers through your hair when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. You would make sure of it,” you say, defeated.

“Don’t act so innocent.” His voice is soft even when he says that.

“I was so set on him. You never liked me like this until you found out about him,” you say, equally as soft, no real fight in you.

“I always liked you like this.”

“No. You never acted like this.”

“I was scared of losing you to him, so I had to act like this,” he defends.

“It makes me feel crazy. Makes me feel like a bad person.”

He hums, still comforting you with his hand in your hair and an arm around your waist. He pulls you up just a bit to position you so that you’re face-to-face with him. The blanket falls off of you and onto the floor behind you. He coos when he sees your teary eyes, cupping your face.

“You’re right, I would make sure of it. I’d never let you get into a relationship,” he admits. His voice drips with gentleness, and it’s smooth as ever, but you don’t feel soothed by it. You back up when his face gets a little too close to yours.

“What if I only want to be friends?” you question.

“Then just be my friend. Don’t be his girlfriend, though,” he pleads. “Would you really hurt me like that?”

“I can’t be his friend?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

A little fire of rage is starting to burn inside you at his possessiveness. It’s like he can sense it, and he’s trying to calm it down, gently rubbing his hands down your thighs.

“Don’t touch me like that,” you demand. He moves his hands to rest on your hips instead. “Don’t touch me at all.”

He pries his hands off of you and holds them behind his head. You feel yourself getting pissed off, but for some reason you don’t make a move to get off his lap.

“Why do you treat me like this?” you ask harshly.

“Cause I’m in love with you,” he answers like he can’t hold it back anymore. Your heart stops and your eyes shoot to his own in shock. He’s looking at you with all the honesty he’s ever had. “So forgive me if I can’t stand you being with someone else.”

You open your mouth, but you have no clue what to say, so you just shut it and stare at him, dumbfounded. It takes a few seconds for rationality to hit you and urge you up and away from him. He stands up as soon as you do, holding onto your wrist.

“No, don’t go,” he begs, lacing your hands together. You lean your head into his chest and cry out in confusion. What are you supposed to do?! God, a part of you wishes you’d never even met Soobin now. If you knew it would come to this, you’d have never stepped foot in that library. It’s just not worth it. You don’t even know how you feel right now.

“What the fuck Beomgyu!” you yell as you burst into tears. Everything is ruined. You can’t be with Soobin. You can’t be with anyone. You can’t have your old dynamic with Beomgyu back. Nothing will be the same.

Beomgyu hugs you, swaying you comfortingly and slowly. You hear him sniffle. He doesn’t deserve to be crying right now. What reason does he have to cry? Everything has gone his way.

You drop to the floor and hold your face in your hands, crying into your palms. He sits in front of you and pushes your hands down, brushing your hair back. His eyes are red from his tears too, but he’s tending to you. Your stomach twists. You don’t know what to think. A guttural sob leaves you.

“Maybe this city isn’t right for you. Let’s move away,” Beomgyu offers, trying a new approach.

“Like you know what’s right for me,” you mock.

“I do,” he asserts.

“You don’t.”

“Just stop with this. Do you not love me?” he asks, angry and serious. You don’t respond. He calls your name. You look away from him.

You don’t know. Somewhere in this whole mess, you’ve lost your perception of what you feel for who. You don’t respond because you have no answer.

He whines and hangs his head, clutching his chest like you’ve just stabbed him in the heart. Always the drama queen. You feel yourself calming down a little as you see it. At least you’re not the only one breaking down now.

“You want to be with him that bad?” he asks. He looks at you with pathetic eyes, tears falling from them pitifully. You feel nothing.

He grabs you by the shoulders with urgency and desperation. You have no more fight in you, so you let it happen. He picks you up and sits you on the edge of his bed. He stands over you, holding your head up so your eyes meet. He frantically searches for something in them. You’re not sure what.

“Can you talk to me?” he requests. “At least give me that much?” He pulls your mouth open with his thumb, staring at it like he’s waiting for something to come out. You don’t know what possesses you, but you feel broken enough to not question it when you take his thumb in your mouth and suck. Perhaps you’re just used to turning to sex in the midst of heated moments now. He pulls it out and stares at you funny.

“What?” you ask. He gives a sigh of relief, and you realize it’s because you finally said something.

“We gotta talk about this,” he says.

What’s there to talk about? He told you what your whole life is going to look like anyway. You don’t even want to think about it anymore.

“Let me sleep,” you whisper. Your head is pounding.

“Okay,” he agrees, laying you back on his mattress, adjusting the pillow beneath your head. You shut your eyes. He tucks you in neatly, making sure you’re extra comfortable. He uses gentle fingers to tuck your hair out of your face. You feel his presence stick beside you like a guard dog until you fall asleep.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You wake up with a clearer head. The room is dark, you must have slept your way into the night. You remember everything that happened and your eyes shoot open. Beomgyu’s sleeping soundly next to you. He has you right up against him, like he knew you’d try to run away as soon as you woke up. You realize that that’s what you should be doing right now.

You remember you left your phone on the bed somewhere. You feel around for it, more frantically the longer it takes, but you come up empty. A part of you wonders if Beomgyu took it. You shake the thought. He wouldn’t. You despise your mind for trying to paint your best friend as evil.

He can’t help how he feels, right? If he scared you or hurt you, he didn’t mean it. If he’s serious when he says he loves you, then he wouldn’t want to hurt you. You feel sick as you think it over. You probably shouldn’t run away. Where would you even go?

An idea pops into your mind, but you need your phone first.

Gathering your courage, you slip from Beomgyu’s grasp and get out of bed, causing as little commotion as you can. You scan the room with just your eyes, seeing if you can find your phone. You contain the urge to groan when you don’t see it anywhere. You bend down to check under the bed. Nothing.

You startle when you rise up and see Beomgyu looking at you. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m just looking for my phone.” You sound so meek and unnatural in your own ears. You sound scared of him.

“Oh.” He eases back into the bed. You didn’t realize how tense he got. Strange.

You look at him speculatively. “Do you… know where my phone is?”

He furrows his brows. “Are you accusing me right now?”

Yes. “No.” It’s so much harder to rationalize the situation when you’re talking to Beomgyu. He’s quiet for a minute, and it unnerves you. You wonder what he’s thinking.

You watch him closely as he reaches for something on his nightstand. It’s his phone. He taps around on it, and you have no clue what he’s doing until you hear it ring. He’s calling you.

The vibration of your phone is muffled, but present. Beomgyu looks to his side and lifts your pillow, revealing your phone. He hangs up the call from his end. You grab your phone, feeling guilty now.

“Now you can stop looking at me like I’m some psychopath,” he murmurs off-handedly. It stings your heart.

“I’m sorry.”

He sits up and stares at you, then lets out a heavy sigh. His eyes look puffy now from all his crying before, and you figure he must not have slept much. You wonder if he stayed up crying while you slept in his arms.

“I’m sorry too,” he says. You appreciate that, because he’s got a lot to be sorry for. “I got scared and it made me act crazy.”

So you’re finally having this conversation. Your heart rate picks up.

“You did. I guess I did too,” you say. You remember how you broke down. You remember everything he said. “Did you mean it all?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a second. “I meant it when I said I loved you.”

“And when you said you’d never let me have a relationship?” you push. He looks like you just kicked him, and he bites down his response. You remember what Chaewon said about him doing that, how he only does it because he knows you’re weak for him. Not this time. Fuck that. “Talk to me now, Beomgyu. I’ll walk out of your life forever if you don’t.”

He rushes to respond now, eyes wide with urgency. “I don’t know, I’m just desperate, and—and I need you.” He stands up, but doesn’t dare get too close to you. His hands are held together in prayer. “Don’t walk away. I’ll control myself now. Please stay. Who else do I have?”

You take a deep breath, trying to not let his words hit you too hard. You need to keep a clear mind. If your heart starts getting soft, you’ll lose to him again.

“I want you to never meddle in my love life again,” you say, speaking as clearly and confidently as you can.

“But I”—

“Never again. No excuses. Let me be.”

“But I love you!” Beomgyu cries, desperate to keep you to himself.

“Stop,” you insist, locking up the iron gates that protect your weak heart. You can’t let him get through.

“I love you, I love you, I love you! You can’t do this to me!”

You feel him slicing away at the bars guarding your heart. You have to get out of here before he breaks you down again.

“I’m staying at Chaewon’s tonight. If you try to contact me while I’m gone, you’ll never see me again. Give me space.” You fear your sanity might slip from you if you take too long to head out the door.

He drops to his knees as a sob escapes him. Unintelligible pleading escapes his lips, but you can’t allow it into your mind. If you stay here a second longer, he’s going to find your soft spots and attack. Adrenaline forces you to start moving.

You leave the room, leave the apartment, but you still hear his cries. They echo in your mind and torture you as your feet take you to Chaewon’s house. You move as fast as you can, desperate to clear your head, but Beomgyu proves himself again to be a parasite, a stain you can never wash off.

Chaewon’s eyes widen when she sees you. You must look as rough as you feel. “What happened?” she asks, ushering you to her couch. She wipes your cheeks, brushing away tears you didn’t even know were there.

“Beomgyu loves me.” You choke on a sob, leaning forward until your head is buried in Chaewon’s chest, wrapping your arms around her body. You’re glad you don’t have to beg her to comfort you—she’s quick to pat your hair down and hold you while you let it all out.

“Honey, it’s okay,” she soothes. You’re soaking her shirt with your tears, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

“No, everything has changed. Nothing’s okay.” Chaewon picks your head up at that, cupping your face so you’ll look her in the eyes. You sniffle back your tears, suddenly embarrassed by them when she’s looking at you so intensely.

“You will be okay. I promise you.” She sounds so sure of it that you have no choice but to believe her. You nod, and she looks pleased at that. Once she releases you from her hold, you wipe the wetness from your face. You feel yourself calming down.

“Thank you,” you say. Even if all you want to do in the moment is wallow in your own self-pity, you can’t let that be the rest of your life. Once you feel confident you won’t start crying again, you tell Chaewon everything that happened with Beomgyu. She’s quiet the whole time, nodding as you explain the whole ordeal. You don’t have it in you to joke about it right now, and you appreciate that she doesn’t try to either.

“Well, how do you feel? Do you love Beomgyu?” she asks.

You sigh. This is a loaded question. “I’m not in love with him, but I do love him. Even after everything he did, I still love him. I probably always will.”

Chaewon nods slowly and hums in acknowledgement. She takes a minute to ask her next question. “What about Soobin?”

You pout as you ponder it. When you think about being with Soobin now, it’s not heart fluttering anymore. Beomgyu ruined that for you. Maybe Beomgyu ruined any man for you. You can’t imagine talking to another guy, now—not for a while, anyway.

“I’m not in love with him either. I don’t know how I feel now,” you answer honestly.

You get another cryptic hum from Chaewon at that. “I think you should see Soobin tomorrow and see if that clears things up.”

Tomorrow? That’s so soon. You need time to recover from today. The thought of meeting up with Soobin fills you with some sort of dread and fear.

“I don’t know if I can ever see him again,” you admit.

It’s too late for you to come back from this. The damage is irreparable. Beomgyu has carved his name into you, and you can scratch it away all you want, but the slate will never be clean again. You’ll always be marred.

“See him one more time,” Chaewon insists. “Don’t give up yet.” You feel a little bit of life leave you as you sigh. You’re not the fighter that Chaewon wants you to be. You’ve tried so hard, but it never worked.

She puts a hand on your shoulder and continues, “Text him. Ask him to go out with you tomorrow. You can still make this work.” She picks up your phone and puts it in your hand.

You look into her eyes. She has enough hope in them to encourage you to unlock your phone and go to Soobin’s messages. You stare at your texts from earlier, regretting how you didn’t just accept his offer to hang out. You wonder how differently your day would have gone.

You take a deep breath and look at Chaewon for reassurance. Her smile gives you the courage to send something over.

If you’re free tomorrow, I’d love to go out

You doubt he’s awake right now since it’s so late, but you’ll settle with seeing his response in the morning. Chaewon encourages you to get some rest, and you think half of the reason is because she’s tired too, but you don’t argue. If you’re seeing Soobin tomorrow, you’ll need as much rest as you can get tonight. You’ll sleep away the pain and open your heart up to whatever comes with Soobin tomorrow.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You do your best to not think about Beomgyu at all as soon as you meet up with Soobin. You want to enjoy your day, and you’ll be damned if you don’t at least try. You’ve put up with so much, you need a break. A day out with Soobin could offer you that solace.

It’s colder by the lake that you walk along the edge of, but the sight is so nice that you don’t mind it. Being outside is helping you feel better, too. The lake is still mostly ice, with fresh snow piled on top of it.

“I’m glad we get to spend time together today,” Soobin says, walking slower until he comes to a stop. He looks angelic even with his nose red from the cold.

“Me too,” you say. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you were busy.” You can’t look him in the eye when he says that, it hurts too much. You weren’t nearly as busy as he thinks you were. Your mind was preoccupied with someone else.

“How has work been?” You almost cringe at how surface level the question feels. You’ve been past the small talk stage for a while now, but you’re having trouble thinking of what else to talk about. It’s not like you can talk about your own life as of recent.

“It’s been okay. I miss you sometimes when I’m working in the library,” he says. Your heart should flutter at that. You should feel weak in the knees and butterflies in your stomach. Instead, you feel something inside you shrivel up. You push past the feeling, still determined to try to save this.

“I wish I went over more.” You wish you did a lot of things different.

“You still can,” he says, hopeful. You pray that he’s oblivious to your uncertainty. You smile at him, hoping it doesn’t look as forced as it feels.

“I can,” you agree. A beat of silence follows. You look out to the frozen lake. In the summer, this place is alive with the sound of birds chirping and people laughing. It’s quite different now. You look at the barren trees and strain your ears for any noise.

You don’t usually hate winter, but this year it feels eternal. You’re dying for the snow to start melting and to feel the sun again. The sight of flowers in bloom, of leaves returning to trees, is something you find yourself craving more than ever.

“Do you like the snow?” you ask, turning to Soobin.

“I love it. It makes everything look brighter.” You nod, looking back out to the world. The sunlight reflects off the stretch of snow, and you suppose it does look brighter like this. A gust of wind sends snow blowing at the two of you. You flinch, and he laughs.

“Have you ever gone skiing?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I went snowboarding with Beomgyu once, but I hated it. I had so many bruises the next day.” You laugh a little at the memory.

“I’ve been waiting to hear that,” Soobin says. You look at him in confusion. “Your laugh,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” You feel your face heat up.

“I love skiing, even though I’m not great at it. You should try. I know a great place. We can fall and get matching bruises,” he says, grinning. It puts a smile on your face, and you don’t have to force it this time.

“I don’t know if I can take up that offer,” you say.

Soobin nods. “That’s okay.”

It goes quiet again after that. Silence doesn’t bother you normally, but it feels deeper than usual when there’s nothing going on around you. You sway on your feet, kicking awkwardly at the snow.

“Are you alright? You’re never this quiet,” Soobin notes. You sigh. You couldn’t even begin to explain how you feel to him.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry I’m such a bore today,” you apologize, wanting to shrink into yourself.

“I’m never bored of you. Tell me what’s going on,” he prompts, looking at you attentively. You’re flattered at how he shows his care for you.

You stare at him for a long second, wondering how much would be acceptable to spill. “It’s just Beomgyu.”

Soobin laughs for a second at that. “That’s not the first time I heard that sentence.” He doesn’t look upset or bitter, but it still makes you feel bad. Even if he’s joking, it’s true that you keep bringing Beomgyu up around him.

“I don’t know what to do about him anymore.” You wish you had the guts to say more, but you’re a coward.

Soobin takes a while to respond to that, so long that you think he might just drop the conversation. His smile has shrunk, and you fear that he’s finally putting the pieces together. “You do what feels right,” he advises.

You swallow, trying to calm your nerves. “How do I know what’s right?” Your brows are upturned, lips pouted as you struggle to draw a conclusion. His eyes trail down your face like he’s assessing you.

“Your heart will tell you.” He has no clue the torment your heart’s been through. The poor thing is too weak to make any decisions. Following it will lead you nowhere.

You shake your head. “No it won’t.”

He sighs, and that’s when you know he’s caught onto your dilemma. “You already know what your heart wants. You’re just ignoring it.”

His words strike you with panic. You search his eyes to try to find the answer he’s come to. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“I just feel like…” Soobin starts. You hang onto his words as he struggles to finish his thought. “You’re always thinking of him.”

Your heart sinks. It feels like the world has gone weak, and everything around you is ready to collapse. Can you even deny what he said? You open your mouth to try, but any noise struggles to come out.

“So, can I ask you something?” he continues.

You nod. This moment feels so delicate and fragile, you’re scared of breaking it. Your voice comes out in a whisper when you respond, “Yes.”

“Did you like me at all?” His eyes dart between yours.

You hate this so much. You can’t protect your pride. Guilt spills out from the pit of your stomach and sickens you. Have you turned into something vile? Have you hurt Soobin so much?

“Of course I did. You’re wonderful,” you answer honestly. He wipes a tear from your cheek when it falls from your eye.

“And now?” He keeps his hand on your face. You can't stand his kindness. The knife twists further.

“I don’t know. Beomgyu—he…” You don’t even know where to go with that sentence.

“He fell for you?” he fills in. “I can see why.” He brushes your hair back. Even now, his smile is pure and soft.

“Soobin…” You’re stuck with the most impossible dilemma. A selfish part of you begs to keep Soobin around. The butterflies he summons still come back to life at times like these. You’ll never have to question his sanity. What bloomed between you was innocent and untarnished until Beomgyu dug his claws into you.

The other half of you tells you to stop torturing everyone. Yourself, Soobin, Beomgyu—you all suffer the longer you remain on the fence. You can’t have both men in your life, and you know that you’re not going to give up Beomgyu so easily. You just wish you could figure something out.

“I know your choice,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. How? How can he know so clearly when not even you do?

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips. The most gentle kiss you’ve ever felt is placed delicately onto it. You blink up at him. It’s almost like you can already see him flickering away.

He’s letting you go.

You feel the moment melting. You feel the world slowly coming back to life around you, and you want to ask it for one more minute. One more minute, where you and Soobin can be the only two people that exist. He’s putting your hand down, he’s releasing his hold, he’s getting ready to go. You know better than to cry and beg for him now. This is what has to happen.

“Do you know your way home from here?” he asks.

You’re crushed, but you don’t show it. “Yes.”

He steps back. “I’m glad I knew you. You’re the best thing this city has to offer.”

“That’s not true.” There is nothing more cursed in this city than you.

He smiles at you. It’s the last time you’ll ever see it. “It is. I hope he helps you see that.”

That’s the last thing he says to you before he leaves for good. You watch him walk away. Your feet don’t itch to run for him. Your hands don’t yearn to tug him back. The only thing you want now is to see your best friend.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You try to control the way your body shakes as you stand in front of the door. You need to get yourself together. You steady your breathing. Your fist meets the door to knock on it gently, like you’re unsure if you actually want to go in or not.

You’re glad you ran out of tears already. It would be quite embarrassing for Chaewon to open the door to you crying for the second day in a row.

She assesses you with a frown. “It didn’t go well, did it?”

There’s no need to sugar coat it. “It’s over.”

Chaewon’s lips part in surprise. She’s quiet, and for the first time, it seems like she doesn’t know what to say. You walk to her room without a word, and she follows just as silently. You take your usual spots on her bed, and you try to make yourself feel something. You just come up empty.

“Are you okay?” Chaewon asks, breaking the silence hesitantly.

“I guess,” you answer. You didn’t expect Soobin to let you go. Selfishly, you thought he would never leave you. Chaewon sighs heavily, but you don’t dare to look at her right now. Whether it’s disappointment or sadness on her face, you don’t want to know.

Karma must be real. This was always bound to happen, you realize. This is some cosmic joke, some lesson from the universe to tell you what happens when you let control slip out of your hands. You dug your own grave. Soobin was always going to leave you.

A pang in your chest strikes you when you think of the beginning. Soobin’s shy introduction at the library, his giggles at your flirtations, his eagerness to keep you talking. Everything was so light and easy. You could’ve sworn there was an invisible string connecting you.

“I’m sorry. It’s killing me that I can’t do anything for you,” Chaewon says, and you finally look at her. Her eyes are brimming with tears, lips quivering in an effort to not cry. You frown and hold her hand.

“You’ve done everything for me,” you correct. If it weren’t for all her talks with you in the past couple months, you would have gone crazy long ago. You’d be caught between Beomgyu’s teeth. Now you’re here, sulking over Soobin with her, instead of going home to your other best friend. “You helped me more than you think.”

Chaewon gives you a small smile as a tear falls from her eye. Her hand squeezes yours, and it makes you genuinely smile for a second. “I’m always here for you,” she says.

“Same here, for anything.” She scooches closer to you, and you rest your head on her shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” You ponder her question for a minute, trying to match a label to your inner turmoil.

You sigh, “Numb.”

She hums. “What are you thinking about?” That question brings the pang in your chest back. You can do nothing but succumb to the defeat and hopelessness of it all.

“We never even kissed.” You stare into nothingness as you meddle with the fact. It’s a stupid thing to be upset about, but you feel like you had your one shot at romance ripped away from you. Who can you blame besides yourself?

You could’ve had innocent, pure love. You could’ve had sweet kisses and interlocked hands and a hundred cute little dates, but you traded it all for anger-laced intimacy, endless confusion, and nights ending in tears. You’re a fool.

Chaewon looks at you with such pity that it makes your stomach twist. You must seem so pathetic right now. A part of you wishes you’d run off to Beomgyu instead. He would’ve pampered you, made you forget about Soobin if only for a moment. You know you were right to see Chaewon instead, though. You’ve made enough dumb decisions with your life. You’re sick of destroying everything because you can’t let go of Beomgyu.

Chaewon seems to be thinking the same thing. “I can’t stop thinking about where you’d be now if Beomgyu never brought himself into this.”

You tighten your lips, not knowing what to say. You don’t want to think about it at all. “Yeah.”

She turns to you fully, looking more serious now. “You’re not going back to Beomgyu again. Don’t let him get away with this,” she says.

It’s not that easy. What does she expect you to do instead? Ignore him, drop him now that it’s already too late? You’d gain nothing from that at this point.

“It’s useless,” you say. She takes both your hands in hers, holding them over her heart and looking into your eyes.

“I care about you too much to watch you spiral like this. Stay with me. I’ll help you bring your things here.” She looks at you with pleading eyes. Your heartbeat races. The choice is yours.

“I can’t burden you like that,” you say, shaking your head.

“It would burden me more to know you’re letting Beomgyu win again,” she insists. You exhale shakily, trying to stop your thoughts from flying by so fast. You need a clearer mind to be able to make this decision.

“I need to think about it.” Chaewon nods, always understanding of you.

“Just let me know. I promise I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” You feel like you owe this girl the world.

You look out the window, noticing how dark it is. You would stay over her house again, but something inside you urges you to go home. You shift on the bed, stretching as you get ready to stand up again.

“I think I’m gonna head home now,” you say, and you see her eyebrows knit in confusion immediately. You know what she’s thinking. “It’s not for Beomgyu. It’s for me.”

She still looks uneasy, but she doesn’t put up a fight. You’re glad she saves her lectures on Beomgyu this once. She gives you a parting hug.

“Think about my offer,” she says as you pull away. Her eyes are hopeful, like she’s counting on you for this one thing.

“I will,” you promise.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The moment you get home, you take yourself straight to Beomgyu’s room. It’s late, and you know he must be sleeping, but you don’t want to feel alone for even a second. You don’t want to think about Soobin.

Beomgyu’s room is slightly illuminated by the glow of his gaming setup. He looks so peaceful laying in his bed. His chest rises and falls in a perfect rhythm, and you find yourself calming down. You stand there in the doorway for a minute, debating whether or not it was too far to go and wrap your arms around him.

He stirs in his sleep. Perhaps he felt your presence—you wouldn’t doubt it at this point. The boy has always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to you.

“Gyu?” you whisper, testing if he’s waking up or not. His eyes flutter open, so slightly and sleepily that you barely see it. When he notices you standing at his door, he shifts on the bed to make room for you. He pats the spot next to him on the mattress, and your body responds to his call immediately. It seems the magnets attracting you together have never left.

You settle in beside him, cozying up to his warmth. Your eyes are unblinking as they stare at his ceiling. You barely feel like you’re in your own body as Beomgyu tucks you into his side. You only sort of register it as the weight of his arm falls across your waist.

“You came back,” Beomgyu says, voice scratchy and deep from sleep.

“You knew I would.” He doesn’t respond. He knows it’s true.

His breathing is starting to grow slower again, and your heart pounds in unease. You won’t be able to fall asleep. You don’t want him to leave you in the real world right now.

“Beomgyu,” you say in a quiet voice. He hums in response, and you feel the vibration of it in your bones. “I ended things with Soobin.”

He freezes. You don’t even feel him breathe anymore. You keep your gaze off of him; if he’s happy, you don’t want to see it. He tries to sit up, but you coax him back down. You don’t want to be up right now.

You continue, “Or, I guess, he ended things with me.”

His silence would irritate you if you didn’t feel so numb. You focus on your breathing, still staring at the ceiling. You feel weightless, like your body could break from the slightest shove.

Finally, he moves beside you. It’s just a turn of his head, but it’s enough to make you feel a little less stiff. You feel his eyes on you, but you can’t be bothered to meet them.

“Well, I’m not gonna say I’m sorry…” he says. You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s smiling.

“I know. Cause you’re an asshole.”

“But I’m not a liar.”

“Sometimes I wish you were,” you sigh. Your life might’ve been easier in that case.

He ignores that. “I’m here for you. Whatever you want, whatever you miss from him, I’m here.”

You don’t need that. You just need a cork in your chest to fill the space your heart has leapt from. His bandages will never stop the bleeding when it’s this profuse.

“I think you were right, I don’t know if this city’s right for me,” you admit quietly, resting your head on his chest. You hope the world is kind enough to let you find sleep tonight. His response comes in the form of hugging you closer to his body. You let it happen, soaking in all his warmth and comfort. This might be the last time you see him, after all.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You don’t say goodbye. You pack a couple bags while Beomgyu’s not home, doing your best to ignore your blurred vision from the tears welling in your eyes. Chaewon greets you with open arms when you arrive at her place.

“Just these?” Chaewon asks, picking up your bags.

“Yeah, I didn’t grab everything. I left most of my stuff there,” you explain, voice hoarse from your crying earlier.

“That’s okay.” She brings your bags to her work room, which she promised to repurpose for you as your own room. You tried saying that you could crash on her couch for now, but she insisted that she’d do this for you, even if it’s just for a couple weeks.

The room is mostly empty—Chaewon must’ve been up all night clearing it out—save for her desk in the corner. You’re reminded of when you moved into your apartment with Beomgyu. The thrill of independence, of being a young adult in a new corner of the world. Everything was exciting and new back then, and you miss the innocence that came with it.

“My friend has a twin size mattress that he’s bringing over later today, we can find a frame for that at some furniture store,” Chaewon says.

“Oh my gosh, your friend doesn’t have to do that!” you exclaim. You already feel yourself becoming a burden. “An air mattress is fine.”

“Stop, I’m probably doing him a favor helping him get rid of it. I’m not making you sleep on an air mattress, those things suck.”

“We shouldn’t buy a bed frame yet, I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” you reason, but Chaewon’s not hearing it, shaking her head and dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand.

“We can just get something cheap. I know a really good place. I got mine there for, like, three hundred.” Your eyes widen. You can’t control your natural reaction to a great bargain. “Yeah, I know. So let’s go there.”

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of setting the bed frame up, putting half of your things away, and chatting with Chaewon about how nervous you are about this.

The two of you are cramped into your twin bed, talking the night away like it was any normal sleepover. Chaewon gave you one of her LED lamps, and its multicolored glow is the only source of light in the room. You lean into her, and she lets you practically use her as a pillow.

“Did you tell Beomgyu?” she asks. Her fingers run through your hair calmingly.

“No.” You don’t know if you should feel bad for that. He is your best friend...

“You don’t have to,” she reassures. “You should mute his number. He’s going to find out fast and bug you nonstop.”

Your eyes well up once again. You would have never, ever imagined your friendship with Beomgyu would come to this. Is it for the better? You’ll hate yourself forever if this is the wrong choice. If only you could see into the future. That would have saved you a lot of trouble long ago.

“He’ll know I came to you. He knows exactly where to show up,” you say.

“He could knock on my door all damn day if he wants, he’s not coming in.”

“With how he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought a blanket and started sleeping at your door,” you joke. Your laughter is quick to turn to tears, and you don’t even know why. You wipe your eyes, not wanting to cry again, but you can’t help the loss you feel. Beomgyu’s your best friend. You just wish it could’ve stayed that way.

“It’s okay,” Chaewon comforts.

“No, I don’t want to cry,” you say, sniffling back the rest of your tears. “Let’s just watch videos and fall asleep.”

Chaewon leans over to pick up her tablet at the end of your bed, unlocking it to resume the movie you were playing in the background earlier. “Do you still want to watch this?” she asks.

“We should put on YouTube,” you offer instead. You yawn, closing your eyes as she looks for something interesting to put on. You’re already asleep by the time she makes her choice.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The first thing you see after waking up is Beomgyu’s texts. Chaewon would tell you to ignore him, but she’s sleeping soundly next to you and therefore can’t judge you for opening his texts immediately.

[Beomgyu] u out for the night?

[Beomgyu] helloooooo

[Beomgyu] ok well make sure u get to work on time

You should be getting ready for work. You shouldn’t be answering him. You don’t even know what to say, but your fingers itch to respond.

He still doesn’t know you won’t be coming back for a bit. Should you keep it that way? An ache in your heart begs you to spill everything to him. You look at Chaewon again, making sure she’s asleep. You look back to your phone with a sigh and let your fingers fly across the keyboard without a second thought.

You don’t reread the text once you send it. The only move you make afterwards is to mute his notifications. Something about it makes you feel so empty. You don’t know if you feel like a whole new person or the shell of a person. You don’t have time to linger on it either, because you have to get ready for work.

The feeling persists throughout the day. You feel like a robot, like you’re living life on autopilot, letting your body carry you around while your soul is busy searching for the important answers. You don’t care which font your boss would like best for the title on this report, you don’t care what kind of smoothie your coworker should get. You want to know how to fix your life.

Your walk back from work is much stranger now that you can’t take the path your feet have memorized so well. The thought that this could be the path you’d walk to walk everyday for weeks or even months strikes you with a sort of dismal feeling. This feels different than going to Chaewon’s place after work just to hang out. This is going to Chaewon’s place because that��s where you have to go.

You’re not granted reprieve from the whirlwind of thoughts as you make your way home to Chaewon. You question every choice you’ve made up to this point, all the way back to if moving here with Beomgyu was ever a good idea in the first place.

Is there a way to repair all the damage that has been done? The thought of starting all over again is frightening. If you ruined it all, if there’s no going back to how things were, then you might as well make a life for yourself somewhere new.

Maybe you could convince Chaewon to fly across the country with you. You picture a life where you don’t have to worry about bumping into Beomgyu or Soobin again. It both frightens and intrigues you. You can’t be so greedy, though; she has everything set out for her here. You can’t rip her away from the city that loves her so much. You just wish it was as good to you.

The possibilities of what could have been haunt you. You look at passing couples with a sense of envy, picturing you and Soobin in their place. Every store you pass, every street you walk down is a memory that you’ve made. It’s almost too much to handle.

Your feet almost stop as you pass the library. You only let your eyes linger on the building for a few seconds, but that’s long enough to make your insides twist. The warm lights that seep through the windows don’t feel comforting to you anymore. You walk a little faster and tug your jacket closer to your body. The trip back to Chaewon’s feels a little colder now.

You open your messages with Beomgyu as you near her place. You don’t know if you should be happy or scared that he still hasn’t responded. You finally allow yourself to read your parting message, feeling a little emptier as the words linger in your mind with nothing back from him.

Hi Gyu, I’m staying with Chaewon for a bit. I’ll come back if and when I’m ready. I really regret a lot of my recent decisions, and I think I just needed this as a refresh.

Don’t be mad at me. You’ll always be my best friend. Love ya

You swallow down the knot building in your throat. This is for the better. You repeat the phrase like a mantra as you make it to Chaewon’s house. You wonder when her place will start feeling enough like home, when you’ll stop craving to return to your real one. You open the door and shove down all your thoughts and feelings.

This is for the better.

notes: sorry team soobin. sorry team beomgyu. no one wins... and maybe that's what needed to happen... much love and i hope you enjoyed the read!!!

taglist: @beomgyusluver @blankliving @ewsnup @flowzel @immelissaaa @multistansimp4life @nanamongmong

© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[scarletsp1der]

Kobashi 1/2

I love him man

[heyitsoak]

MOVIE SHADOW X READER HEADCANONS

Gender neutral reader

Just finished watching Sonic 3 and it was awesome!! Haven’t seen anyone written for movie Shadow yet sooo.. 👀

Warnings?: No spoilers for the movie in this! But maybe him being out of character, I haven’t wrote anything in years lol

- I feel like his love languages would be quality time and physical touch, he wouldn’t be used to touch at first but would gradually warm up to it. Definitely wouldn’t be the type to be over the top with public affection. Maybe handholding or a hand on your waist in public, but that’s probably it

- Might would be one to get jealous, needs reassurance that you’re not leaving and that you love him, truly. He’s been through a lot and needs to know that you’re not leaving him too

- Likes looking at the stars with you!! Reminds me of that one meme

“Do u like stars?”

“Ya, they’re cool”

- Likes to watch moves with you too! Just please don’t have him watch movies that have ‘aliens’ that are considered bad guys in it :( Just watch cat videos on YouTube with him, he’d be content with that

- Try and show him video games! He’d be really confused on how the controls work, a lot has changed in fifty years

- I feel like he’d like the game Stray, cause cats!! I feel like he absolutely loves cats. Would also probably like Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing. Anything that’s a calm game where you can just do whatever

- Speaking of cats.. he’d love going to a cat cafe with his s/o, would probably want to take them all home afterwards though

- Would end up having a black cat come up to him, rubbing against him and purring. He’d just pick up the cat and ask

“..can we take him home?”

- You can’t say no to Shadow, especially when he’s holding a cat in his hands.. so needless to say, you guys have a new pet now

- But besides cafe dates, just staying at home and cuddling would be perfectly fine with him as a date, anywhere with you, he’s happy

- I feel like he’d genuinely be a really good boyfriend, just takes him time to warm up a bit and get more comfortable with romantic stuff

- And motorcycle rides!! They’d be so fun, but if you get scared if he ever goes too fast, just ask for him to slow down or go a normal speed, he’d probably listen (cause it’s you)

- Gets all blushy and flustered when it comes to physical affection and kisses, he’s not used to it but he loves it

- He’d also like music, specifically older songs. Likes to put vinyls on a record player and dance with you to the song :’)) even if you don’t know how to dance, he’ll try and guide you

Not really sure what else to add here! Hopefully this was good, sorry if it was out of character :’)

I absolutely love Shadow so much, he’s such a cool character and looked so amazing in the movie

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—” 

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips. 

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly. 

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.  

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest. 

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips. 

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both. 

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger. 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall. 

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses. 

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair. 

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence. 

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door. 

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening. 

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara. 

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy. 

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands. 

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose. 

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue. 

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that. 

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y. 

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small. 

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself. 

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer. 

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him. 

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission. 

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye. 

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours. 

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought. 

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist. 

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips. 

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place. 

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind. 

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow. 

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear. 

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing. 

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision. 

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this. 

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable. 

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back. 

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression. 

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth. 

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone. 

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt. 

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway. 

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.” 

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally. 

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb. 

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords. 

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms. 

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him. 

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day. 

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold. 

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness. 

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you. 

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters. 

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten. 

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you. 

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin. 

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way. 

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot. 

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts. 

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach. 

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again. 

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself. 

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over. 

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe. 

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second. 

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words. 

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. 

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles. 

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him. 

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is. 

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up. 

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow. 

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you. 

“Really?” 

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic. 

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology. 

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering. 

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off. 

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you. 

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?” 

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately. 

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark. 

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation. 

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have. 

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot. 

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again. 

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast. 

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his. 

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise. 

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear. 

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore. 

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit. 

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance. 

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt. 

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed. 

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking. 

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried. 

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.  

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles. 

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one. 

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body. 

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself. 

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh. 

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.  

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else. 

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm. 

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?” 

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly. 

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked. 

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off. 

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination. 

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk. 

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass. 

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush. 

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked. 

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are. 

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers. 

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft. 

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence. 

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands. 

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly. 

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso. 

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten. 

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense. 

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.  

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up. 

He’s still perfect. 

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear. 

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit. 

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him. 

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent. 

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him. 

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod. 

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately. 

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging. 

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths. 

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle. 

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to  someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever. 

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest. 

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely. 

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours. 

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times. 

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you. 

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment. 

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin. 

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you. 

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows. 

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders. 

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again. 

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish. 

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are. 

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance. 

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly. 

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous. 

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for. 

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly. 

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time. 

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you. 

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two. 

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you. 

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours. 

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you. 

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre. 

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in. 

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static. 

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak. 

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern. 

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good. 

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling. 

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you. 

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound. 

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good. 

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums. 

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him. 

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses. 

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily. 

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster. 

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect. 

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face. 

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear. 

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies. 

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are. 

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt. 

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine. 

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe. 

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure. 

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him. 

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good. 

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it. 

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him. 

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps. 

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you. 

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward. 

But it’s too much all combined. 

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers. 

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained. 

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob. 

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach. 

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you. 

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly. 

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment. 

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes. 

“Hi.”

He smiles. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back. 

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage. 

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs. 

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe. 

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile. 

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms. 

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be. 

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you. 

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face. 

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for. 

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies. 

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems. 

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself. 

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin. 

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile. 

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty. 

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now. 

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color. 

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks. 

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too. 

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.  

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves. 

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves. 

You want the same. 

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.” 

-

part eight

[ervotica]

please don’t go, i love you so

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey

note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!

hunger games masterlist

Coriolanus is possessive.

It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.

It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.

It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.

He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.

There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.

You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”

His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.

“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.

He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.

“Nothing. I have you.”

“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.

“Coryo,” you pant.

“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.

“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.

You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”

The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.

“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”

“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”

“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.

“Wanna show me just where you belong?”

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you. 

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading. 

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now. 

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?” 

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class. 

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.” 

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording. 

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards. 

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing. 

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him. 

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.” 

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval. 

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room. 

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch. 

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.” 

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth. 

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag. 

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question. 

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.” 

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got. 

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English.  “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?” 

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.” 

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.” 

And they’re silenced immediately. 

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.” 

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?” 

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.” 

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert. 

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold. 

He doesn't like it one bit. 

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area. 

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner. 

A spark. 

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself. 

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm. 

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man. 

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.” 

That scared the shit out of him. 

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape. 

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him. 

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal. 

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him. 

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it. 

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars. 

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that 

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can. 

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving. 

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it. 

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero. 

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same. 

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you. 

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you. 

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby. 

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits. 

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project. 

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises. 

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago. 

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head. 

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.” 

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch. 

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line. 

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.” 

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response. 

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.” 

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.” 

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.” 

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.” 

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.” 

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. 

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.” 

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.” 

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.” 

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right? 

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM. 

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time? 

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes? 

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again. 

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark. 

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor. 

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy. 

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims. 

Bam. 

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed. 

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back. 

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon. 

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity. 

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.  

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle. 

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop. 

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory. 

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest. 

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up. 

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds. 

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time. 

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him. 

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this. 

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop. 

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein. 

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about. 

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text. 

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it. 

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy. 

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him. 

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?” 

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.” 

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” 

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend. 

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom. 

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.” 

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?” 

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision. 

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task. 

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves. 

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more. 

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?” 

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down. 

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.” 

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?” 

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning. 

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination. 

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish. 

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end. 

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag. 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break. 

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask. 

-

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?” 

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading. 

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things. 

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?” 

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-” 

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago. 

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his. 

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice. 

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.” 

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise. 

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight. 

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.  

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings. 

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists. 

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated. 

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.” 

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back. 

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle. 

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot. 

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance. 

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump. 

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse. 

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it. 

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist. 

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him. 

You. He still needs to save you. 

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him. 

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended. 

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement. 

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists. 

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action. 

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop. 

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” 

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait. 

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go. 

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind. 

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion. 

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” 

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.” 

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.” 

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.” 

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.” 

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?” 

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you. 

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?” 

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.” 

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?” 

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.” 

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit. 

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened. 

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?” 

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.” 

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?” 

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting. 

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.” 

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear. 

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs. 

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest. 

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain. 

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities. 

Until now. 

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.” 

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.” 

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too. 

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation. 

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.  

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?” 

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms. 

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly. 

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?” 

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?” 

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki. 

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are. 

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart. 

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain. 

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue. 

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out. 

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something. 

Nothing. 

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news. 

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago. 

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that. 

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something. 

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it. 

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two. 

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant. 

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night. 

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring. 

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away. 

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive. 

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him. 

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more. 

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge. 

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him. 

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan. 

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th 

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt. 

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down. 

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard. 

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm. 

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them. 

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead. 

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!” 

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks. 

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?” 

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge. 

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more. 

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop. 

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.” 

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions. 

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds. 

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.” 

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body. 

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach. 

Do not say it’s true. 

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass. 

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you. 

“Holy shit.” 

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony. 

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit. 

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips. 

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers. 

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing. 

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?” 

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint. 

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school. 

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet. 

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.” 

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel. 

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?” 

“Jake.” 

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response. 

 “I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze. 

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you. 

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed. 

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?” 

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.” 

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head. 

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.” 

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class. 

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly. 

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt. 

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things. 

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.    

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod. 

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.” 

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore. 

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.” 

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE. 

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest. 

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug. 

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach. 

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.” 

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out. 

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is  right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago). 

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand. 

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised. 

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain. 

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze. 

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!” 

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.” 

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.” 

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you. 

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe. 

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting. 

“I thought girls liked this.” 

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose. 

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?” 

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.” 

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him. 

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man. 

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration. 

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.” 

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

[bloomzone]

2025: #2 u are the main character of ur life

✒️.U.NEED.TO.GET.CRAZY.ABOUT.UR. LIFE .THIS is ur life. your story, your movie and You’re the main character of it . But here’s the problem—you’re sitting there, acting like you’re just an extra. Let me ask you something: when are you going to wake up? When are you going to stop living like someone else is writing your script? Because newsflash—nobody else cares as much about your story as YOU should.

N1 You’re Not Here to Be Average

Do you feel it? That spark inside you? The one that says you’re made for something bigger? Stop shoving it down. Stop telling yourself, 'I’m not special,' or, 'I’ll never be that person.' Because let me tell you something—you already ARE that person. The only difference between you and the version of you that you dream about? Action. Average is safe, but it’s boring. U NEED TO KNOW Being 'okay' is easy, but it’s unfulfilling. You weren’t put on this planet to blend in. You were born to stand out, to do something, to leave a mark. But first, you have to believe that. You have to take risks. You have to dare to be seen, to be heard, to be ALIVE.

N2 Get Obsessed with Yourself

This is the part where people get uncomfortable, but IDGASS . You need to fall in love with YOU. Not in a shallow, fake, selfie-obsessed way—but deeply, madly, passionately in love with the person you are becoming.Spend time with yourself. Take yourself out on dates. Sit in silence and listen to your thoughts. Who are you, really? What do you want? Not what society wants, not what your parents want, not what your friends think is cool—what do YOU want?Get crazy about discovering your passions. Throw yourself into books, art, music, whatever lights you up inside. Because the more you pour into yourself, the more unstoppable you become. You’re not just living life; you’re creating it. So why not make it something spectacular?

N3 Stop Waiting for Permission

Why are you waiting? Waiting for someone to tell you you’re good enough? Waiting for the 'right time'? BRO WTF Let me tell you something nobody is coming to give you permission. Nobody is going to hand you your dream life wrapped up in a bow. You have to go out there and TAKE IT.Stop looking for signs. Stop waiting for everything to feel perfect. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, and sometimes it’s downright terrifying—but that’s the beauty of it. The magic happens when you stop overthinking and just DO. Take the leap, even if you don’t feel ready. Life isn’t about being ready—it’s about showing up, again and again, until you create the life you can’t stop dreaming about AND THIS IS DISCIPLINE

N4 Reclaim Your Power

Let’s get one thing straight: you are powerful. Not in a vague, 'manifestation vibes' kind of way, but in a real, tangible way. Every decision you make is a choice. Every habit you keep is a vote for the kind of person you want to be.But here’s the catch—every time you let someone else control your narrative, you give away a piece of that power. Every time you shrink yourself to fit someone else’s expectations, you lose a little more. Stop giving it away. Own your voice. Own your choices. Own your life.You are the architect of your story. So start building something worth remembering. And if people don’t like it? If they don’t 'get' you? Let them go. Your life is not a democracy it’s YOUR kingdom. Rule it unapologetically.

N5 Romanticize the Hell Out of Everything

Here’s the secret nobody tells you: life is as magical as you decide to make it. Stop waiting for the big moments—graduation, the 'dream job'...—to feel alive. Start finding beauty in the small, ordinary, quiet things.Make your morning coffee an event. Cook ur dinner by urself. Write love letters to urself. Turn sunsets into poetry. Life is happening right now, and if you keep rushing to the 'next thing,' you’re going to miss it.Romanticizing your life isn’t about pretending everything is perfect. It’s about choosing to see the magic, even in the mess. Because when you do that, life stops feeling like something you’re just surviving—and starts feeling like something worth celebrating.

This is Your one life. Your one shot. So stop living like you have forever. Stop waiting, stop hiding, stop playing small. You are the main character of this story, and it’s time to act like it. Get crazy about your life. Get obsessed. Because when you do, everything changes.Now go out there and make something beautiful I'm proud of u 143

@bloomzone 📇

[greenlanterns-light]

gyro wants me dead argopro wants me dead everyone wants me dead. can't take this shit anymore

[temiizpalace]

☆┊THE POCKY GAME

SUMMARY: playing the pocky game with your crush!

CHARACTERS: all dorms (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: cursing, suggestive? not really tho

NOTES: happy pocky day!! I think this game is actually really cute teehee. what’s ur guys favorite pocky? (mines the chocolate or matcha one 🙏🙏)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

GOES IN FLUSTERED, COMES OUT CONFIDENT

you caught him so off guard. he was just minding his own business, doing his thing, then suddenly you hit him with a game like this? really are you trying to kill him, prefect? does this count as a confession?? he feels hot, is his face red? he didn’t even know pocky day existed!

despite his internal panicking, how could he possibly say no to you? placing the biscuit between his lips, letting you have the chocolate side (or whatever flavor u want) like the gentleman he is. slowly, bite by bite his face inches closer to yours. his heart is killing him, but he doesn’t dare to lose. finally reaching to the midsection, his lips find yours, sharing a small sweet kiss before pulling away.

that was much more fun than he thought it’d be. how about another round?

riddle, trey, jack, kalim, silver, malleus

GOES IN CONFIDENT, COMES OUT A LOSER

he was so smug when you asked. say less prefect! he’ll play the game with you since you’re so desperate!

then suddenly he gets second thoughts once you both begin to bite down on the biscuit. little by little, the proximity between you two began to close, his heartbeat racing at the speed of light. thump thump thump. he could barely control his breathing and his palms were beginning to grow sweaty. by the time you’ve expected a kiss, he pulled away, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed.

his cheeks were burning hot and there was a discerning look on his face that screamed flustered. with all the talk he had before, maybe this reaction was better than the anticipated kiss. but where’s the fun in that? you pull out another pocky stick, putting it between your lips for a second time with a devilish grin. you’re killing him, prefect.

ace, cater, ruggie, epel, sebek

A LOSER

had to think long and hard about playing. not cause he didn’t want to, but because he knows he’s going to humiliate himself in front of you.

so how did he find himself standing in front of you, with a pocky in his mouth, inching closer and closer to your face after each passing second? this. is. bad. he’s actually going to fail and look like a godforsaken fool. is his face red? it’s red isn’t it? he should’ve known better. not even halfway, he backs up, covering the lower half of his face with his hand.

please forgive him, but he might just DIE and EXPLODE if he hadn’t done what he just did. it’s not just about his safety, it’s about yours too. please don’t tease him he’s already so embarrassed for being a wimp.

he’s already weak in the knees just being beside you, kissing you would be a whole nother story.

deuce, azul, idia

A FUCKING TEASE

another smug one. except this one has plans to win and actually stick to it. rather than just standing in front of you, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. you hesitate for a moment, taken aback by his bold actions.

the game grew intense, his eyes staring daggers into your own. you’re not even sure if he was blinking (he wasn’t). he took in your reaction, engraved it in the back of his mind, and plans to replay these moments like they were a cinematic masterpiece. just when you were about to pull away, his lips meet yours, sharing a breathtaking kiss.

your face was warm and wore an expression of shock. he loved it. ah, ah, ah, not so fast prefect. technically that was a tie! what’s a game without a winner? looks like another round is in order..

jade, jamil, rook, lilia

SOMEHOW A WORSE TEASE

pocky game? why would we want to do that when he could just do this?

cupping your cheek, he leans over and places a chaste kiss on your lips. it was a gentle kiss, contrasting with the way his hands traveled down to your waist, holding my you firmly in place. his eyes bored into you, enjoying your shock. he was smug. so smug. you could feel him smiling against your lips, leaning in closer and closer til you finally had the opportunity to push him away.

he only smirked in return, letting you go, grabbing a pocky and walking away as if nothing happened.

punch him. you wanted to punch him.

leona, jade, floyd, jamil, vil

A/N: jamil was self indulgent ngl

date published: 11/11/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[bwskj]

NSFW MDNI | jjk x reader

- jjk characters reacting to u asking them on call for a moaning audio -

chars: gojo, nanami, megumi, sukuna, yuuji, inumaki

notes: (text) are you; bulleted + written

tags: honestly just a lot of nsfw stuff, pls x away if ur a minor or uncomfy

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

gojo

— “baby what?”, he laughs amused, “did you just say you want me to send a moaning audio?”

— you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “ah baby, well i could do that… just not for free. give me something to look at and i’ll make it, how about that?”

output: bro sends a hand held video of him jacking off while sitting on the living room couch. a part of his laptop sitting on the coffee table with your photo/video on it is shown in the upper half of the video, behind the main character that is his thick hard cock. satoru likes talking as if you’re there kneeling in front of him, pretending he’s got your face to tap his dick on before he fully wraps his hand around the girth and starts pumping. he often groans low with the occasional sharp inhales through gritted teeth. eventually, he gets to the point wherein he’s leaking so much pre-cum it’s enough to help him make big smooth strokes over his length. his camera angle ends up wonky sometimes because he’s too zoned in jerking off to you. “fuckkk baby, god you’re so—hot” and “shit… that’s mine, that fucking pussy belongs to me.” he sure loves his dirty talk, “bet you wanna ride this huh, baby? want your tight pussy walls sucking up my cock.” when he finally cums, you can tell he’s trying his best to not hold in his moans (cause ofc that’s what you’re looking for). his thighs tense, spreading apart as his cum shoots up high, loud groans with every shot that spatters all over his bare stomach. he aims the camera down at his messy torso, laying his dick on it as he swipes it across the mess around and on his happy trail. “i wanna see you lick this clean off, baby.”

nanami

—“excuse me? a what?” (you repeat yourself)

—hunched over his desk at work, he says, “honey i… don’t do that,” he sounds concerned that you would ask for such thing, “do you need it for… something?” you can imagine the stitch in his brow when he asks this.

— (you reply with a vague and teasing “maybe”) kento lightly huffs, seeming slightly bothered (?)“well, i’m busy right now… just… wait until i get home.”

output: no audio but what did you expect he was at work! not like he would do it though if he wasn’t. instead, on the way home, he’s got one thing on his mind. the thought keeps bubbling up in excitement, making him tap his foot in impatience as he rides the elevator up to your shared apartment. when you hear the jangle of his keys in the doorknob, you spring up from where you’ve been rotting. a smile immediately appears on your face when you see your boyfriend looking even more dashing with the appearance of a man who’s worked hard all day at work. “you’re home, i—“ you’re about to tell him you’ve missed him but he cuts you off when he closes the distance, leaning in and catching your lips with his. he drops his work bag on the floor as the big palm of his hand slides onto your back. he pulls you close, not giving you the chance to speak anymore as his deep hungry kiss keeps your mouth busy. you manage to make at least the sound of, “mphh.. Kento!” when his lips pull back a bit. you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back, his jaw and shoulders feeling rigid when your hands feel over them. “couldn’t wait to get home,” he mumbles when his mouth detaches for a second — basically, yea, he fucks you pretty much the whole night or until you can’t take any more. everything he does is meant to please you; he thrives on giving you, his pretty princess, what you want, feeling fulfilled when he knows he can keep you more than satisfied.

sukuna

— “the fuck? a moaning audio? why would i do that?

— he stretches his jaw, the eyes on his cheeks fluttering a little eye roll. he speaks into the mic at a low volume, “baby if you miss being dicked down just say so…”

— “uhuh yea, keep pretending you don’t want it til you’ve got this cock in your mouth, right? stay put. i’m coming over”

output: no moaning audio. he gets to your place in 10 minutes (how the fuck he got there that quick you’ll never know). when you greet him at the door, mouth ajar in surprise, you can’t stop yourself from cheekily saying, “well, isn’t somebody excited?”

“i wanna know what the bitch who’s asking for an audio sounds like when she gets what she actually wants,” he cockily spits out as he looms over you by the still open door frame.

your eyes widen at his response but you can only stutter before his hand is suddenly holding you by your throat. he welcomes himself in, shutting the door behind him while you almost stumble back into your hallway. your hands instinctively reach to grab at the back of his hand around your neck. not even a second later and his other hand grabs one of yours, tugging it and placing it over the tent in his pants. his fingers sandwiched around your neck begins to squeeze and you accidentally sound out a moan. you can feel his sharp nails pricking your nape. his hand holding yours guides you into palming him. a dark smirk is on his face. “i’m fucking hard. do something about it.”

long story short: he rails you (on your bed, in front of the mirror, doggy style or just backshots in general— he loves pinning your wrists behind you and watching your tits bounce everytime he pounds into you. when you’re on top, he doesn’t even give you the chance to ride him on your own). “how you liking this, huh? sweet little slut. you like this fat cock fucking your stomach? isn’t this better than some shit tease through the phone?”

megumi

— his cheeks warm when he hears the words through the phone, “what’s that?” He asks though he knows full well what you mean (i think megumi would be a secret tumblr user).

— you carefully explain it to him. there’s hesitation in his voice when he says, “oh, i see…”

— alarmed by the way his voice trailed off, you reassure him that he doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.

— he replies with a slightly stammered okay and the call eventually awkwardly ends with exchanged ‘i love you’s and ‘talk to you later’s

— you feel slightly embarrassed for voicing your request but it’s not long before you forget about it. it was worth a shot.

— that night, while you’re snuggled up in your cozy blanket, you receive a single voice note from megumi with no message attached

— megumi blushes as he stares at the file he just sent, wondering if he did it okay. you don’t know that he jack offed and recorded not even five minutes after your call ended.

output: when you press play you’re immediately met with the semi-distant sounds of megumi’s shaky gasps and breathy low moans. it looks like he sent you a recording of the most interesting part of his session wherein wet stroking sounds are being picked up by his phone. there’s oftentimes soft whimpers that slip through, the noise of his bed covers shifting on his skin almost overpowering it when he gets more and more into fucking his hand (or whatever he’s slotting his dick through). you have to replay it a couple times to make sure you heard right—pride blooming within you when you’re certain he’s whimpering and mumbling out your name. his moans rise in pitch and grow more rugged the closer he gets to his climax. “a-ah… mm—hah.. gonna c-cum,” you can hear the strokes getting faster and the sheets being gripped tight. when he cums, he gets even louder, noisy staggering moans falling out his mouth. you just know his throbbing dick is thrusting up while chasing his high. when it dies down, you can hear soft panting and then the sound of his phone being picked up. there’s a silent pause before his voice comes through low and crisp, “i… hope you liked that.”

yuuji

— “a what audio??”, he laughs, “you’re kidding!” His laugh fades when he realises you aren’t.

— “wait seriously, you’re into that? like those audios on reddit or something?”

— (“… you know those?” you ask curiously.)

— yuuji gets flustered, he stutters, “i-i don’t—I accidentally came across them once. kinda freaked me out, ngl…”

— (“freaked you out?”)

— “yea, i dunno, never imagined guys to be doing that for a living. and i didn’t know there were girls who especially liked that.”

— (“really… well a lot of girls actually like that. but yea, i guess you wouldn’t really know, cuz you know,” you lightly tease.)

— yuuji rubs a hand over his blushing cheek, “you don’t have to keep reminding me that you’re my first…”

— (he always reacts like this and so you remind him again [you love reminding him], “sorry my yuuji, but you know, i love being your first, especially knowing that my competition is literally THE jennifer lawrence.”)

— you can hear the smile yuuji is trying to keep down, “and your 100x better than her,” (honestly, you just tease him to hear him say this again)

— (“so what about that audio?”)

— “hm?” yuuji didn’t even realize it until now that he’s got a hand over the boner jutting through his boxers

— you quickly reassure him that he can say no if he doesn’t want to. there’s a silence that hangs for a moment in the call, and when you’re about to say something again to dismiss the topic, he starts, “could you… maybe, talk me through it?”

output: you piece together that yuuji’s turned on. “are you… hard rn?” your voice comes gentle through the phone and yuuji grabs his dick stronger through the cloth, pushing his palm against it. he shudders, “m-maybe.” your voice sounds so good.

“are you…” you trail off, but yuuji knows what you mean. he quickly replies, “is this okay? you can tell me if it’s not, i-i’ll stop.” yuuji doesn’t want to stop but he’s stiffened his hand on his dick to try to stop himself from touching further without your consent.

there’s another short pause before you say, “mm, it’s okay, yuuji… you need help?”

“mhm,” he hums, instantly resuming his hand movement. there’s slight guilt when he clears his throat and says, “s-sorry our call kind of—went in another direction, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I can—“

your laugh cuts him off, “sweetie it’s okay. i’d like to help. we’ll hit two birds with one stone since i wanted an audio anyway.”

yuuji blushes even harder. “I… I’ll try to not… hold it in.”

you grin, biting at your lip as you lay in your bed with your phone planted on your ear. “Good… you’ll give me what i want hm?”

Yuuji’s breaths are beginning to tremble as he continues to rub himself to the sound of your voice. “y-yea, for you… i’ll do what you want.”

it gets more serious when yuuji finally takes his dick out his boxers and starts pumping it up and down; it’s almost fully hard. he loves it when you ask him what he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. his moans start off quiet but when you tell him you wanna hear him, his voice breaks and he lets a louder sound come out his throat. “can you imagine your hand as my hand, or my mouth?” you ask him. at this point your thighs are squeezed together and you can feel the wetness pool in your panties. this makes yuuji moan even louder.

after a couple minutes of this teasing dirty talk, yuuji can’t take it anymore and the needy words, “fuh… i… i want to see you. c-can i?” slip out of his mouth.

it turns into a video call after the both of you move to transfer to your laptops. you can see yuuji’s tip peeking from the bottom edge of the screen. his shirt is on and it’s lightly sticking to his skin, likely because he’s starting to sweat. when you turn on your camera, your pretty face comes into view and you’re in the usual clothes you wear at home: loose shirt, no bra, panties. you can instantly tell yuuji’s back to jerking himself, though you can’t see his whole hand or his face at all.

“let me see you, sweetie,” you say, hand digging between your sticking thighs and going over your clothed crotch.

his movement slows, “shit, you wanna see me?” he sounds embarrassed. you nod. yuuji is obviously reluctant, but he listens, repositioning his laptop further so it captures his face and dick in hand. you feel yourself throb at the sight.

it isn’t long before you’re touching your bare pussy in front of the camera, tits out on display. you’re lewd and so is yuuji, now more confidently moaning as he pleases himself to you. between your own sounds, you softly say, “gosh my pretty baby. you’re doing so well,” knowing how your boyfriend is secretly a sucker for praise. yuuji groans, body jerking as his face flushes even redder. “will you come for me?” you say. you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

yuuji’s a moaning needy mess, the hand not on his dick pinning the hem of his shirt high up. “fuugh… y-yes… yes for you. I’ll come… i’m about to—about… agh—“

yuuji’s hand pumps the tip fast and he cums strongly, head bowing as his hips thrust up and he shoots white. “Ah~ oh~,” he’s shaky and noisy all the way through his high. when he finally lifts his head up to look at you, you’re sweetly smiling (you came watching him cum but he missed it ://). you stare at one another for a moment before the both of you let out (somewhat nervous) laughter.

yuuji pats sweat off his forehead with the back of his clean hand, careful not to have the other covered in his own cum go near his bed sheets. “gosh, you’re good. i’m so lucky to have you.”

you beam. “and i’m so lucky to have such a pretty, handsome boyfriend. you did great.”

he shyly looks away, biting on his lip to suppress a smile, “thank you.”

inumaki

— you text him asking for a moaning audio (unless u want inumaki to go tuna tuna at u on call lmao)

— “?”

— “how do i make that?”

— you send him a voice note explaining what kind of audio it is, making sure to tell him he doesnt have to do it if he doesnt want to

— “…”

— “okay…”

— “i totally thought you wanted to hear me in pain and i was… concerned.”

— (“??? baby pls no?!)

— “thank god”

— there’s a pause in the chat

— “i would send if i could.”

— (“wdym? if you don’t feel comfortable about it it’s okay maki”)

— “no… um”

—(“?”)

— “i don’t really get hard unless ur here.”

— (you stare at his message before sending an “oh !”)

— “yea… nothing else does it for me. sorry.”

— (you’re both blushing and stricken by his response. “no baby don’t be sorry TT you don’t need to do this. i can always hear you in person.”)

— “sure?”

— (“yes for sure TT”)

— “:p i’ll make those sounds for you next time if you really like them.”

output: next time you see each other, it starts off as usual. a casual date outside before going back to his place for nightly cuddles and eventually… that. it’s clear inumaki remembers you’re conversation without you having to bring it up. he’s nervous at first (he’s always been pretty quiet mostly because he’s mindful of using his voice), and you see it in his eyes. “just let it out okay? it’s just me here,” you whisper when you softly kiss under his neck, a little shy as well. soon, when you’re kissing, touching, and sucking him all over, his moans are tiny sharp inhales and whimpers rising up his throat; they come out somewhat muffled because of his closed mouth. since he can’t really risk saying anything, he’ll tell you that he feels good with a hand combing through your hair or a thumb caressing your skin. he’ll buck up into your throat when he cums, his mouth accidentally opening to sound out a breathier vocal moan. when you pull up, wiping your mouth after swallowing, he doesn’t hesitate to pull your face close, kissing you sweetly. you know it’s his way of saying ‘thank you. i love you.”

—— <3

a/n: wrote smth diff today (context: i usually write leon kennedy stuff) these are just my headcanons so i’d love to hear what u guys think! xoxo i had sm fun writing this hehe

also, can u guess who my fav char is? (it’s not the one with the longest part— mb that some are longer than others, idk how to stop smtms)

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: the hashira men as boyfriends

characters: tengen, sanemi, giyuu, rengoku, muichiro, obanai

AN: i don’t write for gyomei srry

TENGEN

- this isn’t just a little fling

-mans doesn’t wanna be ur bf

-he wants to be your HUSBAND

- and he’s gonna make that happen ASAP

- and when y’all get married you’re not just getting a husband

- ur getting 3 wives too

- it’s a package deal

- overprotective!!

- the way he made his wives promise to prioritize their lives over the mission

- my heart was bursting

- carries u around

- when tengen is around ur feet hardly ever touch the floor

- doesn’t matter how big or tall u are

- he’s bigger and taller

-he's big all over if ykyk

-nicknames include: sweetheart, princess, baby

- and don’t think he’s saying those to be cute

- he’s absolutely mocking you

-which brings me to…

- this man teases the HELL out of you

- but with love

- he loves you just as much as he loves his wives

- in his mind ur alrdy married

- and he is NOT letting you go

- or letting any harm come to you as long as he can help it

- 4 lifer fr

- id marry him

SANEMI

-i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again

-he’d tear it UP

-and i’d let him

- loves you so much

- doesn’t show it in public

- but in private?

- clingy as fUck

- he’s like ur shadow fr

- will follow u around all day

- hands on ur waist

- arm around ur shoulder

- holding ur hand

- he will not let go of u when ur alone

- in public he’s a lot less touchy

- but he will still stand near you

- jealous af

- every slayer knows by now to stay tf away from you or face the wrath of the wind pillar

- you belong to him

- makes sure they know it

- makes sure you know it

-hickey MASTER

-no i will not elaborate

- everybody knows sanemi is a little rough around the edges

- so there are days when it’s hard for him to open up to you

- but he does try

- he’s got a reputation to keep up!

-gotta act tough

-no weaknesses!!

- except for u

-he’s so soft for u he can’t help it

- nicknames: dumbass, idiot, & feather (my personal favorite)

-like i said he is almost always physically connected to u in some way when ur alone

-ignore him? he's throwing u over his shoulder

-he's strong he can manhandle u all over the place

-sheeeeeshhhhh manhandle me however u want sir

-claims ur super light no matter ur size

-hence the nickname "feather"

-i love him

GIYUU

-ik damn well this man had EVERONE in a chokehold from the first second he showed up

-speaking of chokeholds... ;)

-put me in one pls sir

-anyways

-awkward as fuck

-but he tries for u

-terrible with physical affection

-but we all know he's SOOO touch starved

-you'll have to initiate any type of physical touch

-and make sure he's not uncomfortable

-but really there's nothing he wants more than to touch you

-takes a very long time to say "i love you"

-but can u blame him??

-every good thing the poor man has ever had has been ripped away from him :(

-because of this he's veryyyy protective

-cause he'll be damned if the last person he has that accepts him and loves him for all he is

-is hurt or killed

-100% will die for u without a second thought

-not really a nickname type of guy

-remember he's awkward as hell

-most you'll get is a "-chan" attached to ur name

-and even that is only when y'all are alone

-but still

-even if he doesn't always show it

-you are always on his mind

-he's on a mission and walking through a market?

-he's buying you a hairpin or som

-walking through a forest and sees some flowers?

-"i wonder if she'll like these"

-AND HE'S PICKING U A BOUQUET

-ugh soft for bf giyuu

RENGOKU

-sunshine boy!!!

- epitome of golden retriever boyfriend

-all smiles all the time

-follows u around like lost puppy

-shows off for u

-yk when ur around kids and they're like "watch this" and then they jump and spin a circle lmao

-thats him

-"did you see what i just did?!"

-if u didnt...

-he's doing it again

-wants to impress you so bad

-also you will never have to lift a finger in his presence

-service bf!!

-you need the dishes washed and the floor swept?

-he's on it

-you need help styling ur hair?

-welcome to rengoku's hair salon

-will attempt to dress you in the morning

-and by dress you, i mean he's tugging ur shirt over ur head

-zipping up ur pants

-and tying ur shoes

-brags about you to anyone and everyone

-the other hashira can't have a single conversation with him without him bringing you up somehow

-compliments compliments compliments!!!

-he loves you and isn't afraid to show it

-nicknames from him: my love, my beautiful girl, sweetheart

-constantly confessing his love

-also lowkey speaks poetry for u

-some shit like

-"my light in the darkness, the one who gives me strength, you set my heart ablaze just by allowing me the privilege of seeing your smile"

-ugh he's the sweetest baby

MUICHIRO

-my airheaded angel baby

-i love him sm stop

-baby boy has a terrible memory

-that we alrdy knew

-but!

-he tries so hard for you

-keeps a little journal with notes and information about you

-so if he forgets he can remind himself over and over

-when he's on missions away from you he reads it so he can think about you to pass the time

-can not and will not remember anniversaries

-unless they're written in that journal

-will pick u flowers

-hope ur not allergic cause he's not gonna remember that

-but it's the thought that counts

-the fact that he's thinking about you at all counts

-you wanna go on a date?

-your dates consist of watching the clouds and taking naps together

-maybe a picnic if ur lucky

-no nicknames from him

-he calls you by your name

-its all he can remember

-he's the cutest

OBANAI

-like sanemi, he's a lot less affectionate in public

-however, he's not afraid to express his thoughts about you

-at least not to the other hashira

-might not be glued to your side

-but he's got eyes on u at all times

-and someone is talking about you?

-the second he hears ur name leave somebodies mouth

-he's tuned in

-and they better not say anything negative either

-mans turns murderous

-they will wake up to a snake in their bed

-will prob threaten them within an inch of their life

-don't have to worry abt other people while he's around

-cause he's got everything

-and i mean EVERYTHING taken care of

-protective but not pushy

-i feel like obanai trusts you and your ability to handle yourself

-but thats not gonna stop him from watching over you

-you're not drinking enough water?

-here comes obanai with a cup and u better drink it all

-haven't had lunch yet?

-he's sharing his with you. and will force feed u if need be.

-on a mission with him?

-he's not gonna push u behind him or anything

-but nothing is gonna get the chance to bring any harm to you either

-he's got ur back

-he's pretty vanilla with the nicknames

-nothing too crazy

-especially in public

-mostly uses ur first name

-might add a "-chan" in there every once in a while

-when ur alone he'll call you "sweetie"

-acts like a hard ass

-but he's soft for u

[ctrlhope]

The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[niningtori]

for the hope of it all | part one

part two

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu since the first time you saw him, but he sees you as nothing more than a good friend and faithful wingwoman. when he asks you to help him catch another girl, who just so happens to be one of your closest friends, things get complicated.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, smut (mdni)

warnings: super rushed to meet a deadline, not proofread, smut (mdni), beomgyu is a fucking asshole, manipulative!gyu, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (vaginal), dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 7.2k

notes: whew... i couldn't just post a fic based on a song called AUGUST after august ends (even tho there's only a few minutes left where i am idccc) anyway this isn't the best thing in the world but i still ask that u all don't be mean to me <3 feedback is appreciated n loved as well :)

beomgyu really likes her — like, really— and who can blame him? you certainly can’t. chaewon is a lovely, lovely girl, so it should come as no surprise when beomgyu asks you to, in his words, help him bag her. you’re not one with a particularly strong character at the best of times, so when he practically begs you to convince one of your closest friends that he’s actually not the heartbreaking manwhore he definitely is, you can’t find it in yourself to say no.

it doesn't help that he has enough charisma to charm even the most indifferent target he sets his eyes on, it doesn't help that he's so handsome it makes everyone either want him or want to be him, and it most certainly doesn't help that you've been in love with the boy for the entire time that you've known him. him asking absolutely anything of you would result in you relenting, so when he asks for something as seemingly inconsequential as setting him up with a mutual friend, accepting it is a matter of course. does it hurt your heart to see him pining after someone else when you basically consider him as your soulmate? of course. but his happiness means more to you than your own. if she makes him happy, then so be it.

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

-

beomgyu doesn’t know that you love him — he can’t possibly know — or else he’d treat you differently, right? you don’t want that. you don’t want anything to change, at least not in the disastrous way you anticipate confessing your love to him would go, so you’ve kept your feelings close to your chest to keep him from suspecting anything. you think you’ve gotten pretty good at concealing your feelings. for example, you laugh when he tells you about his sexual escapades, and you don’t hesitate to give him advice on how to woo the girls who are wary of his lasciviousness. you only want to show him the good parts of you, carefully tucking any ugly seeds of jealousy or sadness away from his prying eyes.

the thing is, though, beomgyu is not stupid; and to your never-ending misery, you are not the greatest actress. he can see the crestfallen look on your face for the split second before you can contort your features into a smile. he can hear the tremble in your voice as you force out a laugh. with his godforsaken intuition, he can sense the hesitation in your movement when you playfully push him aside as he over-dramatically recounts his latest raunchy fuck. 

all of this has no discernible consequence, though. if anything, your feelings have been his faithful friend and ally when it comes to conspiring with you to land whatever girl piques his interest at the moment. you may not be a prospective partner, but you are a great wingwoman, he’ll give you that much. and that’s exactly what he needs when dealing with chaewon, who has proven to be a particularly tough nut to crack. he doesn’t usually go for people he would consider friends, if only because he doesn’t like dealing with the messy aftermath, but her refusal to look his way is just too entertaining. he has no earthly idea why this cat and mouse game intrigues him the way it does, but he’s hooked like none other, especially because her reasons for pulling away when she’s definitely as attracted to him as he is to her are unclear. maybe she just doesn’t want to seem easy? whatever it is, he likes it. he likes her.

-

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks. 

“what do you mean?” you blink as you turn towards him, effectively taken out of your daze. you've been staring at a new instagram picture of beomgyu for at least ten minutes now. there's not much going on in it — it's just a candid taehyun took of him — but you can't stop the yearning you feel in your heart as you wish you had been the one to take it, instead.

“i mean, what's your big plan to ‘help’ him this time?” there’s a trace of resentment in his tone as he puts air quotes around “help”. you know he thinks you're just wasting your time on a boy who will never feel the same way you do, but what can you do? you still love him.

“i’m… i’m just going to talk him up to chae, no big deal,” you say rather unconvincingly, because it is a big deal. it’s the biggest deal in the world to you.

“and what are you gonna say? ‘hey, i know you know beomgyu is garbage, but deep down, he’s actually not garbage even though, even deeper down, he really is?’” his words are sarcastic and, for lack of a better term, downright hateful. 

“he’s not garbage, binnie,” you chastise. “he’s actually really sweet once you get to know him.”

“sweet? sweet how, exactly?” he sneers. you just sigh and shake your head. beomgyu is a frequent point of contention in your friendship with soobin, but you don’t know how to overcome it. mostly, arguments surrounding him devolve into conversations like the one you’re having right now. 

“he puts on a tough act, but he’s not really like that on the inside,” you insist. “you just don’t know him like i do.”

“and thank god for that,” he snorts, and you frown. you can tell he feels guilty by the way his expression immediately softens. 

“hey, i’m sorry,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“i’m not hurting,” you lie. “i’m totally fine. it’s just… i just want to see him happy.” you actually do mean that last part. beomgyu, though seemingly carefree, is actually a lot more insecure and sensitive than one might think. you know this because he’s shown you that side of him many, many times, which must mean that he trusts you like no one else. you are honored to be the one he feels comfortable with, and even if it never amounts to anything more than that, you’re thankful you get to see how he really is. 

“and you think being with a new girl every week will make him happy?” he softly asks, no edge to his voice, but his words hurt even more than they did before.

“it's different this time, binnie. i'm serious. i've never seen him like this before. i think he really likes her.” and the words almost kill you to say, but you mean them, anyway. 

“okay,” he relents. “just do what you want to do. i’ll be there for you no matter what.” 

“thank you,” you reply with a small smile, before putting your nose back into your phone and staring at beomgyu’s pictures again. you don’t catch it, but soobin sighs as he watches you. 

-

you’ve been trying really, really hard. usually, all you have to do is talk about good points about beomgyu, and women fall for it hook, line, and sinker. chaewon is not most women, though, and she makes that abundantly clear with the polite smiles and airy laughs she gives you when you try to bring up beomgyu. 

you don't get it. if you had beomgyu’s attention, you’d never let it go, so it makes no sense to you how someone could have it without taking the opportunity to seize it. if it were you, you’d seize it. if it were you, you'd tell him you’ve loved him since the first time you saw him. if it were you — well, it doesn't really matter, does it? because it isn't you. still, you can’t help but dream.

the sentiment that it will never be you becomes clearer and clearer as you watch beomgyu try to initiate conversation with chaewon at his very own house party you are currently attending. you watch from the sidelines as they sit uncomfortably close together, legs flush against one another, as beomgyu wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to whisper in her ear. you like to think you’re content with him being with her even if it means you’ll be without him, but it’s difficult to feel that way when you actually see it playing out before you. your heart feels like stone weighing heavily in your chest as she giggles at whatever he says, and you think that things might start looking up for him before her smile suddenly melts into a little frown. 

without warning, she pries his arm off of her and gives him a perfunctory smile before standing up and smoothing out her skirt. then, she grabs her drink from the coffee table and he's left alone. his previously delighted expression is now filled with irritation and disappointment. you're still staring at him, just trying to get a read on the situation as you're left reeling, and before you know it, he's looking up at you. you're a little embarrassed at being caught, but you realize you can play your intrigue off as objectively analyzing the situation in order to help him better. surely he’ll fall for that, right? every time you say something similar, he buys it with no further questions.

he makes eye contact with you then nods towards his room as a silent plea to talk to him in private. if someone were to ask you how you’re able to deduce all of that from one look alone, you’d probably say it’s because you know beomgyu like the back of your hand — and maybe you do, but it’s like a subconsciously trained reaction more than anything. just as you know what beomgyu will do next, he knows you’ll understand his seemingly innocuous gestures. 

you head up the stairs and beomgyu shuts his bedroom door behind you. you prepare to launch into your readymade explanation as to why you were rubbernecking earlier, but he speaks before you can say anything at all.

“why isn’t it working?” he huffs. “did you talk to her like i asked you to?”

“yes, of course i did!” you eagerly insist. you would never lie to beomgyu — well, not about this, at least. your secret feelings are another story. 

“then why does she keep rejecting me?” he huffs. you wish you could answer him. truly, you do. you scramble for the right words, but you sincerely can't wrap your head around her logic, or lack thereof. 

he’s still waiting for an answer, though, so you think back to the recent conversations you’ve had with soobin, and you realize there’s only one plausible conclusion. 

“she just doesn’t know you enough, beoms. if she knew how you really are and how much you like her, she wouldn't act this way; but honestly, she probably thinks you’re just messing with her,” you explain, and you hope beyond hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. you don’t want to hurt his feelings by suggesting that his (newly) former playboy ways could be ruining his chances with her.

beomgyu’s feelings, of course, are not hurt. in fact, he just feels more annoyed than anything else. it’s really fucking irritating how he can’t seem to get a read on her or her intentions. she likes him, he can definitely tell, so what’s the problem with him having a messy past? it’s clear that it doesn’t bother you. well, it does, but in a different way. you’d forgive his previous transgressions in a heartbeat if it meant that he’d look your way, so why can’t she be the same? but then, he supposes that comparing someone as lovesick as you are to a normal girl is a bit unfair. 

but why are you so lovesick? it’s obvious that he’s handsome and funny, so falling for him is only natural, but your devotion is on another level. not only that, but you’re devoted in spite of the fact that he clearly wants nothing to do with you. in all honesty, it’s almost like you love him even more when you see him chasing after somebody else... then suddenly, the solution is clear. he has to make her think he doesn’t want her; and the easiest way to do that is to pretend he’s interested in someone else. in the same vein, who better else to pretend with than one of chaewon’s closest friends? you’re absolutely perfect for the job.

beomgyu’s demeanor goes from irritated to self-satisfied, and it puzzles you to no end. maybe he figured out a way to show his true feelings for her? but then why is he looking at you with such intensity? he’s never looked at you this way in the many years that you’ve known him. wait, did he realize something?  please, god, don’t let that be the case. you really don’t think you can —

and your train of thought is stopped when beomgyu strides over to you and locks the door behind you. you look up at him with confusion in your eyes before you finally register what that intense gaze of his really is: predatory.

suddenly, his lips are on yours and you’re holding back a squeal. your eyes widen as he cups his big hands around your cheeks and pulls you in even closer. he tastes like alcohol, which is to be expected, but there's a certain uniqueness to his taste that you can't really put into words; and you’re able to taste it even more as his tongue enters your mouth. you groan at the action, and surprisingly, he does, too. 

you always assumed kissing beomgyu would make you feel like everything was finally right in the world, and it does — it really, sincerely does — but there’s also a certain spark you were not anticipating. something a lot more fiery, and it shoots straight to your core as your tongues tangle together lasciviously. beomgyu seems to know this, and he smirks into the kiss before trailing his warm mouth down your neck. you gasp at the sensation, which just makes him laugh. 

his hands have traveled from your cheeks to your chest, one staying there to grab at your tits while the other one carelessly finds its way up your skirt. 

“so wet,” he whispers in awe when he rubs his fingers against your soaked panties. “is this all because of me?” you feel your cheeks warm and you’re stammering out your next words.

“w-well, i —” 

“is this all because of me?” he repeats, and you give him a feeble nod before covering your face in shame.

“cute,” he snickers, and your previously warm cheeks are now scorching to the touch. 

he moves your panties to the side and rubs against your sensitive clit, which sends pulsations through your entire body, but that’s nothing in comparison to how you feel when he presses a finger into your dripping hole. 

“you’re so tight,” he whispers, lust clearly written all over his face at the prospect of being in your pussy relatively soon; but he wants to enjoy this, he wants to enjoy the way your face screws up as he presses his finger so deep, he’s hitting places previously untouched. he slowly pulls it out, grazing your most sensitive spot with ease before adding another digit in, making you almost groan from the stretch. you bite your lip to avoid making such a sound, but beomgyu pays your attempted discretion no mind as he starts to hammer his fingers into you at a brutal pace. 

it doesn’t take long for you to come undone around his skilled fingers, and once you’re done pulsating around him, he takes them out for a taste. 

“so good,” he remarks, and though your breathing is heavy and your eyes are hazy, you still have it in you to feel embarrassed. he takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to his messy bed, carelessly sweeping every loose item — a t-shirt here, an old cd there — off of it in one go. he lays you down and hungrily licks his lips once he strips you down until you’re fully unclothed. 

you’re feeling extremely small in this moment. you know beomgyu has had his pick of the litter when it comes to women, so you can’t help but wonder how you fare in comparison to the literal bombshells he’s been known to take home. mostly, though, you wonder how you compare to chaewon, as awful as that sounds. if you really think about it, there’s no comparison to be made, really. she’s her, and you’re you. what else is there to say, honestly? still, you’re comforted by the thought that you are the one underneath him right now, not her, and he does not seem disappointed in the slightest if the tent in his jeans means anything at all.

before you can think too much about it, he’s practically tearing his shirt off and you can’t help but stare. his torso is lean and a little paler than the rest of him, probably due to the lack of sun. objectively speaking, he’s no greek god or anything similar, but to you, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. if he notices your awed reaction, he doesn’t say anything or really care, because he is simply too busy studying how perfect you seem to look under his dimmed lights. again, he is delighted at the prospect of being inside of you very soon.

he unzips his jeans and slides them, along with his boxers, off of his slim thighs and you can finally see him completely. his cock is a red so deep it’s nearly purple, with evidence of his lust leaking out of its flared tip. you’ve heard a lot about beomgyu’s physique from stories, his and his hookups’ alike, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. you’re not a virgin or anything, but you’re still unsure of how you’re meant to fit him inside of you. and you have no idea how you’re supposed to approach the subject. 

beomgyu does not seem to understand your internal battle, though, because he wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance. before he pushes in, though, he drags his cock along your soaking wet seam just to coat himself in your slick. when he feels he can’t take any more of his own teasing, he begins to push in.

“j-jesus christ!” he exclaims as he tries to push his tip through your entrance. “are you a virgin or some shit?”

“nngh — n-no! i-i’m not. i’ve — mmh — i’ve had boyfriends before,” you say as best as you can while dealing with the feeling of him literally fucking you open. you’re worried he’s not enjoying himself in light of his outburst and his decidedly strained expression. 

“god, s-so tight,” he drawls. “feels so goddamn good.” he draws his hips back before pushing in again, further this time, and his words of praise seem to comfort you somehow, because he’s able to sheathe himself completely in you. 

he groans when he feels your gummy walls wildly contracting around him — unsure of what to do with the pleasurable intrusion and working tirelessly to simultaneously push him out and pull him in. you, on the other hand, feel nothing but full. you’re so full you ache, so after a few moments of adjusting, your watery eyes are filled with an insatiable sense of pleading. 

“you okay?” he asks, actually somewhat sweetly.

“y-yes — ah — i just feel w-weird,” you say. “feel so — fuck — full.” your seemingly innocent words drive him to the brink of insanity, so with reddened eyes, he grabs your hips so hard, you know he’ll leave marks in his wake, and without warning he begins drilling into you.

his thrusts are not calculated or intentional in any sense — they’re rough and fast and show his desperation. why he’s so desperate, he has no idea. beomgyu is sleazy even on a good day, so women come a dime a dozen, but he feels an unquenchable need he feels will only be satisfied if he continues to fuck you like a man gone mad. so he does.

your breasts bounce with every thrust and while he wants to grab one, his thirst only makes him want to go even deeper in you, so he employs his hands to manhandling you into a mating press. the new position has him going even deeper, and you can feel him hitting your cervix with each nasty snap of his hips. tears at the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed spring in your eyes and you have to clamp your hand over your lips to keep from crying out.

“let me hear you,” he pleads while gently moving your hand from your mouth and not-so-gently fucking you like a breeding whore, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it because he wants to make sure chaewon hears or just because he desperately wants to hear you for himself. 

“fuck!” you exclaim, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “s-so big!”

“oh, sweetheart,” he rambles, “who were you fucking before? they didn’t deserve this tight little pussy. they didn’t fuck you like you deserve to be fucked — like a good little whore.” 

“‘m n-not a whore,” you tearily insist, somehow convinced that he means his words. you’re not completely inexperienced, but you’re not a whore, right?

but your innocence only makes him wanna ruin you more, claim you completely. 

“you’re taking cock so well, but you wanna tell me you’re not a whore?” he snickers meanly, and you feel so delirious, you find yourself agreeing with what he says. 

the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin and the sharp knocking of the headboard fill the room, and the heat you feel building up inside of you has you seeing stars. beomgyu pulls you in for a sloppy, wet kiss as he finally lets one of your legs down in order to snake his hand against your clit, which he languidly rolls in the midst of his pistoning in and out of you. 

“are you gonna come for me?” he asks as his lips part from yours. “are you gonna come all over my cock?” 

“y-yes, please,” you sob. “wanna come!”

“then do it, baby. let go for me,” and with the way he’s rolling your clit while fucking into you, you can’t help but comply.

he hisses when he feels you contracting around him, tightening up even more than before and pulling him in impossibly deeper. that’s all it takes, really, before he comes undone himself and sprays his thick, hot load into your spasming pussy. 

he collapses on top of you, and both of you take a few moments just to catch your breath before he pulls out of you with a wince. he’s absolutely enthralled by the way the mix of both of you two’s cum leaks out of you as soon as he does so. he’s almost tempted to swirl it back in and plug you up, but his rational side stops him before he can do anything he’ll regret. 

“are you on the pill?” he asks, and you nod.

“good, go ahead and get a plan b, too. just in case,” he says with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you nod with a delirious smile even in spite of his pedantic words. you’re just so happy you got to sleep with him, be closer to him.

“oh, i almost forgot to actually tell you,” he laughs. “i think fucking you will make chaewon jealous. i think we put on a pretty good show tonight, don’t you?” 

and your heart and your hope and your dignity shatter like nothing else. 

“y-yeah,” you try to reply with a laugh, but it sounds more forced than anything else you’ve ever heard in your life. “it was a really good show.”

-

“you slept with him?!” soobin asks, and he seems beyond frustrated. if you had the guts to look him in his eyes, though, you’d notice just how much hurt is in them. 

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

“why? why would you do that? you’re just going to be even more hurt!” he exclaims, and you shrink into yourself even more, not out of fear, but out of pure shame. 

“i don’t know! it all just happened so fast, a-and i, i don’t know, i just couldn’t stop myself,” is all you manage to say. soobin groans at your words. 

“you do realize that getting over him is going to be even harder for you now, right?” he asks, and you finally look up at him for a second before looking back down and nodding, and it’s almost like you’re a child who got caught doing something they knew was wrong.

“i know, and i’m sorry,” you mutter, still struggling to make eye contact, but soobin catches your timidity and his gaze is softened as he pulls your face up to look at him. 

“you don’t have to apologize to me,” he sighs. “i’m just worried about you, you know?” 

“i know, i know. but i’m still really sorry.” and you don’t have to elaborate on why that is because you both know that he’ll be the one helping you pick up the pieces when this situation inevitably breaks your heart even more than it’s already broken, if that’s even possible.

“it’s alright,” he says, pulling you in for a hug that’s so warm and kind you almost burst into tears. “you’ll be alright. i’m here.” 

-

this is a bad idea. soobin would yell at you if you told him what you’re up to, but you don’t want to think about that right now. all you want to think about is how much better you’ll feel after you get your secret feelings off of your chest. up until now, the fear of rejection has made you too afraid to tell beomgyu how you really feel, but things can’t get much worse than they are at present, can they? it’s only been a few days since your hookup with beomgyu, but your love is eating you alive and you doubt that you’ll be able to hold it in for much longer.

things will probably go badly, and he’ll probably be completely blindsided, but the thought of continuing to lie to beomgyu’s face hurts more than anything else ever could. even more than the pain you feel every day that he unconsciously hurts your feelings. maybe this will ruin your friendship, but you love beomgyu, and he loves you, even if it’s not in the way that you want. all you can do is hope that your friendship is strong enough to overcome this.

with that mindset, you find yourself at his doorstep on this particularly cool summer night. you know he’s home because you can hear the faint sounds of whatever movie he’s watching emanating from his door. before you can lose your nerve, you begin to rapidly knock. before long, you hear the shuffling of feet nearing you, and you almost bolt then and there, but he’s quick to open the door when he realizes it’s just you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, agitation apparent. oh god, were you interrupting something? what if he was working? what if he was sleeping? you should've texted before just showing up unannounced. 

“i-i’m sorry, are you busy?” you ask sheepishly.

“... no,” he says after a slight pause, and he opens the door to let you in. you sit yourself on his couch, posture ramrod straight due to how fucking uncomfortable you are, and you try to steady your breathing as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“is this about chaewon?” he asks, breaking the silence, and your heart aches at the trace of hope in his words.

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

“is there any update on that?” he cuts in before you can even get your words out.

“oh, um, not really,” you reply before remembering that something has happened, but you’ve been so out of it, it genuinely didn't occur to you to tell him. “wait, actually, she mentioned that you seem different lately, but she, uh, she’s still… well, to be honest, she’s —” 

“what? she’s still what?” and there’s no patience for your rambling to be seen.

“she’s still not interested in dating you,” you mumble, unable to look him in the eyes when you say it. he’s completely silent after your words, and when you do finally gather enough guts to actually look at him, you really, really wish you had just kept your face down. because he’s pissed. 

“are you fucking with me? she really said that?” he asks, and you nod. 

“why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” and you feel so disoriented at the way things are unfolding that you can barely croak out a reply.

“i-i forgot.” 

“you forgot? jesus christ, if it’s not about her, then why are you here?” he seems angrier than you’ve ever seen him, but his words get you to finally remember what you’re here for.

“i just… i needed to talk to you,” you say pleadingly, looking into his eyes as you try your hardest to give yourself the strength to be honest with him.

“about?” 

it takes all of the courage in your poor little heart to choke out your next words. 

“beomgyu, you know, for the longest time, i’ve —”

“i know,” he impatiently snaps. you’re unsure of what he’s referencing, but you do know he has no idea about the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. 

“no. no, you don’t know, actually,” you argue, brave face on, but voice shakier than a leaf. “i just need to tell you that i —”

“that you love me? i know, that’s what i just fucking said,” he sighs irritatedly. “why else would you help me? ‘cause you love me so much, right?” he knows it’s wrong to take his frustration out on you, but you’re so pathetic, you make it too damn easy. you’re the perfect outlet for him to unleash all of his anger.

“you… you knew? this entire time?” you ask incredulously. you feel like you’re suffocating in the face of his callousness and disgust, and the room feels smaller than it did before.

“i mean, yeah. it was kind of obvious,” he muses. your cheeks feel so hot you’re sure you’re on the brink of immolation. it was obvious? if it was obvious, then why did he keep you around in the first place? because you’re useful when it comes to helping him get his dick wet?

“so… so why did you…” you trail off, still finding it inconceivable that the beomgyu you know and love could possibly know about your feelings; and not only are they unreciprocated by him, which you could understand and respect, but they’re nothing more than a fucking joke and means to an end. the end in question being burying himself into other women.

“why did i act like i didn’t know? because i don't feel the same way,” he answers, and you already knew it and knew it well, but that doesn't make it any more digestible to hear.

“y-yeah, but you — how could you still sleep with me? how could you do that to me?” you ask, lips wobbling and voice cracking. you can't believe this. you won't believe this. you have to be misunderstanding something somewhere. there's just no way this is it.

“because it was easy,” he says with a shrug, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. 

because it was easy. 

easy. what a funny word. you don’t think you even fully comprehend what it means in this context, actually. easy, easy, easy, but what part of this has been easy for you? every day, it’s like you’re killing yourself by trying to twist into what he wants you to be. a friend, a confidant, and now, even a lover. but lover is being too generous, isn't it? because he does not love you, not even as a friend, and this discovery becomes clearer and clearer as you think back to every time he’s shown you just how little he cares.

soobin’s litany of warnings come back to haunt you with a vengeance. 

he’s just using you. 

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

and though you know soobin will take no pleasure in being correct, you can't help but dread the “i told you so” you know he will never be mean enough to say, but will inevitably think.

“i thought we were friends,” you say incredulously, dread and anxiety pooling in the deepest recesses of your heart. “i thought you cared about me” 

and he doesn’t shrug or anything because he doesn’t really need to, but he might as well seeing as how it clearly makes no difference to him. and this is finally how you come to understand that beomgyu is just as bad as everyone says. maybe even a little worse. and he will continue to act like a sociopath for as long as you let him. 

“i-i love you, i really do. but no fucking way. i won’t sit here and let you treat me like shit,” you declare, tears flowing down your cheeks so quickly and steadily you’d probably be unable to wipe them away even if you tried. luckily or unluckily, you don’t even have the strength to find out. 

“you’re going to regret this,” you whisper, and it’s said with such certainty that for a moment, he almost believes you. almost, but not quite.

either way, you’re booking it out of his door before he can even reply.

-

this is everything beomgyu ever could’ve asked for. chaewon is sitting next to him on his bed, eyes dark with lust as she unceremoniously grabs the end of her top and tugs it off. she's beautiful, no doubt about that, but he feels more and more like something is incredibly wrong. 

she leans in to press her lips onto his, but he flinches, scooting almost imperceptibly further away from her on the bed. she falters for a moment before sighing and crawling on all fours to situate herself between his legs. she begins to unzip his pants and tug on his waistband before he frantically stops her.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking.

“blowing you, what does it look like i’m doing?” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “i just wish i had known you wouldn’t be into kissing or, like, actual foreplay, but whatever.” she continues her movement to pull his pants down before he stops her again. 

“what’s wrong?” she asks curiously, before finally realizing that he is, to what would normally be his eternal shame, completely soft. her mouth drops in shock, and in another universe, beomgyu has enough energy to care. but not in this one. in this one, his eyes are teary as he feels an implacable sense of dread he can’t seem to shake off. 

“oh god,” she says with conviction, pulling herself back up and running one hand through her hair. “i knew this would happen.” 

beomgyu, on his part, looks somewhat out of it, but her words bring him back to earth. 

“knew what would happen?” he asks tentatively, sniffling for reasons unknown to him while he tries not to let his tears run over his waterlines.

“i knew you’d act like this because of her,” she says begrudgingly. 

his eyebrows furrow for a second, not because he doesn’t already know who she’s talking about, but because he doesn’t understand the correlation between you and the situation he presently finds himself in.

“think about it,” she says slowly, condescendingly. “who do you trust, like, actually? and i’m not just talking about with getting girls, but with everything.” beomgyu is silent as he tries to comprehend what she's saying, but he’s nothing if not slow on the uptake in regards to human emotion. 

“oh, beomgyu, come the fuck on,” she sighs in frustration. “i mean, when you were stressed about that presentation for your job, who did you call? yunjin told me all about it. she said you spent hours reciting a 15 minute presentation to the girl you supposedly don’t give a fuck about.” ah. he remembers that night, actually, and he remembers it well. he called you in a panic, so you brought over some dinner because you knew he was stressed, but he was so wound up that you didn’t leave and even insisted that he practice with you in order to give him feedback. he spent the whole night repeating the same speech over and over again, but you sat patiently and encouragingly as he repeated the boring, inconsequential drivel to you. you never complained, not even once, and you didn’t ask him for any compensation in the form of him doing something — anything — similar for you, either. even if you had, he realizes, he wouldn't have given any to you, anyway.

“that’s…” 

“and that’s not even all of it. who’s the first one you look for when you walk into a room? and when something good happens, who do you tell first? not anybody else, and i know for a fact that it’s not me, never will be,” she says bitterly. every new point slashes at his heart and ego.

and suddenly, things start making sense, albeit in the worst possible way. beomgyu loves you. his trust and dependence on you all make an awful sort of sense, but in a way, it’s relieving to finally be able to put a name to this feeling. his eyes still feel hot, but not so much because something feels wrong, but because things finally feel right for the first time in forever. he loves you, has loved you, and will continue to love you.

her words resonate with him so deeply, she can read it all over his face. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he finally understands, but he’s still missing an important fact. the most important fact, even. 

“yeah, i guess you finally get it now. you have feelings for her. and the worst thing is: you treat her like shit.” his eyes widen and the tears that were just threatening to escape are completely let loose. how could he only come to this realization after he already effectively stomped on your heart and your pure intentions? after you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him anymore? and he has nobody but himself to blame, really; he practically shoved you away over and over and over again. 

“i-i didn’t mean to —” 

“sure, of course you didn’t,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “whatever makes you feel better for fucking over the girl who’s been in love with you for years.”

-

beomgyu may not know much about the inner workings of interpersonal relationships, but he does know he needs to see you, and he’s smart enough to understand that he needs to apologize. 

but beomgyu has never apologized for anything in his life — not unless you count the times his mother made him grit them out as a child when he would objectively do something wrong, but this is another matter entirely. nobody will be holding his hand as he does it, and he’s not even really sure where to start. but he knows he has to try.

surely there’s a better place to try than at the bar where he currently finds himself, but then, there’s no time like the present. not to mention that he has a sneaking suspicion that you're avoiding all of your mutual friends’ get-togethers for the sole purpose of avoiding him. if the blocking of all of his socials wasn’t enough, the blocking of his phone number certainly was.

it’s not necessarily fate’s fault that he finds himself here, either. he heard from a friend (chaewon) that you’d be here tonight. he sees you from across the bar looking lively and chatty, and he prays that the good mood you seem to be in will help soften the upcoming conversation with him. to his luck, you step out of the bar to take a call, so he slides from his seat with an open beer bottle in tow, and follows you outside. 

your back is turned, and he doesn’t quite hear what you’re talking about over the phone, but he does catch a giggle and a name, soobin’s, and it makes his heart ache. when you hang up, you turn to head back into the bar, but you’re met with his figure. 

“h-hey,” he says, and he wants to smack himself for the casual greeting he still managed to fuck up.

your eyes widen for a moment before they go blank, and you’re pushing past him without a response. 

“i need to talk to you,” he says, voice trembling as he grabs the back of your elbow, which you snatch out of his grip like his touch is poison. 

“about?” you ask curtly, barely even deigning to turn your head to look at him. you have never been so hostile towards anyone, let alone him, and it's making him spiral. 

“i’m sorry. i’m just really, really sorry,” he desperately apologizes. you’re silent for a few moments as you turn to completely face him with your arms crossed, and he’s trying his damndest to read your expression, but he can’t quite make it out.

“okay… and?” is all you say in response, and he fumbles over his words at your nonchalance. 

“a-and, um, i —”

“you know what?” you cut in with an impatient sigh and a wave of your hand. “i don’t care anymore. you’ve said enough.”

“but i —” 

“i don’t care, beomgyu.” and his name is said in such disgust that it sounds to him like it’s a chore for you to spit out. you’re about to turn and reenter the bar when his next words come tumbling out. 

“i think — i know —  i love you,” he says urgently, and your previously unreadable gaze turns into one of pure, sheer amusement. you’re so amused, you laugh, even. 

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you say between giggles.

“i-i didn’t realize it before, but i talked to chaewon, and she even said that i’ve probably always felt that way about you. i know i didn’t show it, but i really do love —”

“okay, just stop. stop it right there, beomgyu. i’m only going to say it just this once, so listen carefully, okay?” you ask, and he fervently nods. 

“okay. you don't know the first thing about love.” and he goes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him. “loving somebody means you put their feelings above your own. what the hell would you know about that?” 

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —” 

“beomgyu,” you say exasperatedly. “i’m so glad you’re finally reaching enlightenment, and i’m so happy i was cannon fodder for you to use to get there. but i just really, really don’t care anymore, okay? do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore, alright?” and he’s so stunned he can’t even form words, but you just shake your head and prepare to leave again. unconsciously, he goes to grab you again, which you consequently dodge, and he thinks this is the most rejected he’s ever felt before realizing it’s not over yet. it’s only truly over when you grab his bottle from him and splash its contents across his face before throwing the bottle back into his arms and leaving for good.

notes pt. 2: yeah... idk when part two will be out but stay tuned! also, if you all want a soobin ending let me know and i might... MIGHT do it ;_;

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Ace of wands

3 swords (reverse) 

First he is going to be hella proud. Like it boots his ego when he knows you are walking around carrying his offspring. Anybody that’s laying their eyes on you knows you are pregnant and y’all must be pregnant by them because everyone knows you and him go together real bad. No question required. Plus he is so giddy about eventually having the proof of your love walking around. I am hearing : ‘’ Yeah … I did that. Remember when I told you I was going to marry her and give her babies’’. Not in a cocky way but a more loving and boastful way. Maybe you were always the type of person to never settle, that would run at the thought of committing to one man, you would just throw up at the thought of opening up to a penis… Now what do we have here: a wedding ring and a waddling mother. Y’all may be in your maneater era don’t worry babe … enjoy. Mother era is waiting to be unlocked. Plus they are extra horny for you. They want you whenever and however. If you guys have a BDSM or quite experimental relationship, good for you. You will wake up often with a tongue between your legs. Which to some point will actually annoy you because y’all may suffer from morning sickness. I see you standing hair in a perfect bun (important to mention because in all my vision your hair is tight up. Maye because you usually have your hair down … who knows) and you are complaining about all your pregnancy symptoms, especially the heat. I am channeling a summer pregnancy for a lot of y’all , whether it be your first or your last. He just out here staring at you like a vampire in need of blood because all he's thinking about is taking you to pound town. Warning to all my future plus size mama, is going to be even harder for you. Your man is going to be IN LOVE with that ass. Everytime he sees you walk away, he grows a little harder. ( I am serious, let's hold hands for all our plus size baddies … Amen). Also his heart is overflowing with love. I actually see him going crazy every time he sees a cute outfit. I am hearing : ‘’ Babe look at this … Omg soo cute. No look at this is fucking cuter … No baby baby look … it’s say - I HEART DADDY’’. You just stand there behind with a tight smile blaming your mom brain fog because you know to always skip the kids section. Now the 15 minutes run has become 30 minutes and your feet hurt already. A lot of rituals will be created and you better not take his place. He loves rubbing oil on your stomach and after making sure you are sleeping … he always makes sure to remind the baby to allow you to rest. Whatever you need he’s on it. You speak once and it’s done. You can’t handle meat during pregnancy … ok the whole house is now vegetarian. You can’t sleep … ok he is dealing with the morning shift of the household. You hate when people approach you and public … ok activated mean muggin husband. You want, you got it babes. 

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PILE 2 

5 swords (reverse) 

Hierophant (reverse)

This news is going to bring you guys together. I don’t think there would be distance between y'all. But stress is winning in this relationship. You guys are both thriving in your profession and ego is getting the best of y’all. Like you both think that the other is not doing enough romantically and that you respectively are doing too much. Nothing extravagant nor toxic but the honeymoon is not honey no more. Still a lot of love but the focus is not it no more but more who is right. 

They are going to love seeing you work while being pregnant. Is important for you to go to work not because it is necessary just in your bones to work. So you want to do it until your body tells you to stop. They are going to support you to the best of their ability. They will prepare your outfit the night before, add belly cream in your bag, make sure to pack a healthy and big lunch for you and the baby, will try to always drop you off and pick you up from work. Lowkey giving house husband don’t be a fool he still very much a bossbabe himself because I can only picture him in suits. Y’all are definitely a power couple. Anyway he loves your dedication so he does everything he can to ensure the baby's protection and help achieve your goal. What’s wrong with y’all partner … they out here having the nastiest thoughts for all of you. First they are going to try to control their needs. I do think when y’all usually go at it … it gets pretty animalistic and they fucking love it. But they are trying to keep a distance between their thoughts and action but y’all are going to be needy and are going to ask for it. Not your men trying to keep it together while you are teasing him and you don’t give a fuck about it. I see y'all eating maybe at dinner with your friend and you ask ‘’ Are you going to fuck me tonight ?’’ Somebody is choking but your husband is unfazed.

 ‘’ I put my stiletto heels on today, you know how much they hurt my feet.

Babe I told you not to wear those’’, he adds while feeding you. ( By the way … y’all have a cute pouting face

But babeeee’’

The reality is he was actually scared to hurt the baby. He needs got darker and you’ve been needier and that’s a scary mix in his opinion. 

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2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

4) IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRY CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)

PILE 3 

Ace of swords (reverse)

9 wands (reverse)

Y’all are not in a committed relationship when this bundle of enjoy arrives in your life. 

Is going to be a life changing experience. Like theirs is clearly before the baby and after the baby in his life timeline. I think he was always serious about his feelings for you but was too scared to end up hurt that he would push you away subtly. Funny enough I would be the first to call bullshit, I ain't never been scared to do that … y’all know that. STAY is not giving bullshit. Is giving a broken boy. He is scared you are going to walk away in his life or that he is going to lose his mind 2 just like the people that were supposed to raise him but end up abusing him. He keeps you away to protect you and you know it. Something about y’all relationship, y’all are not together but everyone knows it is just to 2 of y’all. He doesn't talk to no other, he doesn't look at other girls, I don’t even think he interacts with any other girl but you. You are the only one he craves, wand, need and desire but he is too scared to break you. So you accept the no name relationship so he can slowly come to term with the fact that you are not going anywhere. Then a miracle knocks on the door. I can clearly see their mouths wide open when they are listening the baby's heart. Like they just have a life epiphany. You are laying on your back like a stick observing nervously their reaction because you want to keep it. They may walk in extremely nervous and a bit dismissive but the sec that they heard that baby … they are coming out the most confident man. They change forever. They used to be apathetic about life and now they are all about living each day like it is their last. They will do extra shifts at work to give you the dream experience. Babymoon, baecation, push present, being a SAHM, everything is given. They don’t play about their baby's health, they are coming at every baby appointment, they are asking all the damm questions. They also don’t want drama around you. You know when you are pregnant everybody becomes an adviser which can be quite annoying because fuck off this is my baby. I am hearing: ‘’ I don’t want to breastfeed but your mama- ‘’Fuck what my mama said. Do whatever you want (name)”. I can clearly hear them going on and on about how all they care is to make sure they 2 babies are always fulfilled.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

4)IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRY CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)