#and belle sees him nearly fall and says ‘NO!’ and catches his attention
Note
I was always so Sad when neither batb movies used Adam’s name in the actual story (I know the original simply forgot rip 💔) so I’m curious if you have any little headcanons about when Belle learned what his name was? like did she learn it from the staff or from him herself?
gosh SAME !! and i do indeed! i’ve written a fic that takes place right after that magical kiss of theirs. basically their first conversation post-curse. i could explain further, but how about i just give you the excerpt where his name comes up? from this fic.
—
They found each other’s eyes again, looking at each other and recapturing a peace they had grown accustomed to in their time spent together. The prince moved his hand to her hair, letting his fingers lightly dance in her soft, tangled locks. Belle tilted her head, a smirked expression across her face. “Surely, you can tell me your name now?”
The man looked at her again, a sudden memory flashing in his mind. She had asked him this question before, but he hadn’t allowed her an answer. It’s not who I am anymore, he’d said to her in his gruff, beastly voice, I see no reason to use it now. She had let the matter go then, but this certain prince realized he didn’t have much of an excuse anymore. He shook the memory away and answered her with a smile. “My name is Adam.”
“Adam!” She said, and, God, it sounded even more amazing when she said it. She brought a hand to his cheek, feeling his face once more. “You look very much like an Adam.”
He leaned into her touch, eyebrows drawing together in a fond gaze. “I’m glad you think so.” She smiled at him, her hand remaining on his cheek. Adam’s love for Belle grew more profound and undeniable with each passing moment, and it had been that way for quite some time now. He delicately moved one hand to her waist, heart pounding as he offered his next words. “Belle, can I kiss you again?”
—
aahh !! i wrote that a couple years ago i really haven’t read it since then. but yes yes there you go :”) i snatched the idea from one of the old books, don’t remember if it was in villeneuve’s or beaumont’s, but i think in one of them (maybe even a later version and i’m mistaken) belle asks what his name is when he’s a beast and he says something along the lines of “that’s not who i am now” and i liked that a lot!!! some people think he would’ve told her his name (or perhaps the staff would) before the curse was lifted but personally i just think that line wasn’t crossed very deliberately. i think adam was so detached from himself, he didn’t feel like “adam.” he felt like a wretched monster who deserved nothing good ever again. so i think it stands to reason that while belle’s curiosity would take over and she’d absolutely ASK, i don’t think he’d tell her in his beastly form. but afterwards? after he’s resurrected and new and they’ve KISSED and admitted their LOVE? how could he ever deny her anything? so he finally tells her 💙
#and there are definitely some moments where i feel like if she Knew his name she would’ve Said It#particularly at the end when he’s been chased by gaston and fumbling around the tower roofs#and belle sees him nearly fall and says ‘NO!’ and catches his attention#you hear him say ‘belle?’#anyway i feel like in that moment if she has known his name she would’ve said ‘ADAM!’ but that’s just me#and possibly when she was in the carriage with her father moments before#‘i have to worn the beast’ like i feel like in That Moment just her and her father she would’ve said ‘i have to warn adam’ if she knew#anyway!! just my thoughts!!!!! thanks alex!!! :’)#alex tag#answered#batb headcanons#lydia writes!#batb 2017#adam#adelle
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Task Force 141: Teaching You How to Ride
Pairing: Task Force 141/Reader
18+, MDNI
❥ Price
He’s slow about his lesson, making sure to tease you until you’re begging for it. He wants you eager, so needy that when you finally sit on his cock it slides in without a hitch, your wetness smeared across every inch of him.
Slow and gentle, Price knows how eager you are from how fast you grind into his bulge, so desperate to get off your little hips are already stuttering before you can actually ride him.
“Relax darling,” he says, a heavy hand at your waist. Slowly but surely, he guides you still, chuckling at the whine that leaves your lips.
“Can’t have you coming when you haven’t even had my cock, can we?”
He coos at you in that gravel-like voice of his, stroking your hair as his opposite hand makes quick work of his boxers. His grin stretches further when he sees how your eyes are drawn to his cock, standing at attention.
“See that doll? All for you,” he grins, pulling you closer.
He fists his length, dragging it between your labia, amused at how easily it glides in. Your legs shake when it catches on your sensitive clit, fingers digging into the bare skin of his shoulders.
You beg him for more, getting off to the tantalizing drag of it, so close and yet so far. The head of it, nice and pink, kisses at your entrance and you swear you nearly cry.
Satisfied with your depravity, he puts your hands on his shoulders and leers at you.
“Go ahead doll, take what’s yours.”
❥ Gaz
He takes his time with you, methodical in his approach. Comfort is his main goal, making sure you feel safe and secure above all else.
“Right there doll, that’s it…”
His voice trails off, focused solely on your comfort. Your movements are shaky, not quite certain what you should be doing, but Gaz is a wonderful teacher.
His hands keep you steady—up, down, you bounce on his lap, grinding yourself slowly. He guides you until you find that perfect rhythm that makes your brain go a little foggy.
“Just like that, you’re a natural,” he says, praising you with every rise and fall of your hips. You know he means it too, his eyes are practically glued to where his cock disappears inside your sopping cunt, sighing in bliss each time you throb against him.
God, he can’t get enough of you.
“Feels good,” you mumble, starting to pick up rhythm. Gaz’s smile widens in response.
“Yeah? You feel fucking heavenly babe.”
❥ Soap
Johnny’s always excited to fuck you, and this is no different. He makes certain you’re comfortable, but there’s a tension that lingers in the air, as if his self-control could snap at any second.
Praise drips from his lips like a leaky faucet, unable to stop if he tried. You’re just so pretty, practically divine, and the way you look with his cock pressed deep into your pussy…
“Hells fucking bells, yer killin’ me…”
You’re equally as wrecked and you haven’t even gotten to move—just the feeling of Johnny’s cock stretching you out makes your legs quake, holding onto the headboard for balance.
“I can’t do this,” you whine in frustration. “Too much baby, I can’t—“
“Course ye can bon, know ye can,” he gasps. “Look how ye take me, pussy’s made for me ain’t it?”
Johnny’s hands grip into your backside, rocking you forward, slowly building up that familiar wave of heat that makes you bite your lip and groan.
God, the restraint it takes him to not fuck up into you with no remorse. He has to keep reminding himself this is your first time, but damn if you don’t look like a fucking natural riding him.
The wet slap of your hips meeting is proof of that, moving faster when Johnny’s hand squeezes your ass appreciatively.
“Keep it up, and I’ll give ye a reward for yer troubles.”
❥ Ghost
Nothing’s very gentle about Ghost, so when it comes to your lesson he’s a bit more…rough in his approach. Don’t expect him to go easy just because it’s your first time.
His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, the sheer fullness of it making it almost hard to breathe.
Ghost finds it adorable.
“Simon, too big,” you cry, nails digging into his arms. His deep laughter is your only warning before he pushes you further onto his cock, the wet squelch of your pussy like music to his ears.
“I know darling, I know,” he rasps, still keeping your hips flush to his. “But how else you gonna learn? Just gotta get used to it.”
His words seem comforting, but his tone is mean, mocking. Beneath his mask you’re certain he’s smirking at how wrecked you look.
“Besides, look at that,” he says, bringing your hand to your stomach. Your eyes widen in surprise at the tiny bump you feel.
“Feel that? That’s all of me,” he hums, enjoying the way your cunt pulses at the revelation.
You can’t deny how fucking stuffed you feel. You’ve never felt so full, not used to the sensation before Ghost reminds you why you’re here with a heavy hand.
“Not your fault you’ve got such a tight cunt,” he says, bringing you back up just to drop you further onto his length. He watches you shake with interest, enjoying the way your mouth falls into a “o” as he uses you for his own pleasure.
“Just means we’ve gotta train it into the shape of my cock.”
credits to @cafekitsune for the headers!
#call of duty#call of duty smut#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost smut#captain price x reader#captain price smut#kyle gaz smut#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap smut#robo writes
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Steddie Time Travel Fixit: Pt. 6
Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7
Steve wears the Hellfire shirt.
He wears it half tucked in to a pair of tight distressed jeans with black lace-up shitkicker boots, both of which Eddie knows Steve has never worn to school before because he would have fucking remembered.
His hair is just as stupidly teased as usual, but paired with the rest of him it looks a whole lot less preppy and a whole lot more like he should have a cigarette tucked behind his ear and a leather jacket over his shoulder.
And Eddie knows that he should be focused on whatever the hell is happening with the kids and Hopper and the fact that Steve apparently has war flashbacks involving D&D characters but all that mystery falls to the wayside when the former reigning jock king is walking around the hallways like a living breathing wet dream in a shirt Eddie created.
Eddie is but a man.
Distractible.
Fallible.
Horny.
Steve catches him staring from down the hall and gives him a lazy two finger salute, grinning with the kind of ease that comes from being attractive and knowing it.
It should be infuriating.
It is not.
“Is this a dream?” Gareth says, drawing even with Eddie. “This has to be a dream, right? No way is Steve fucking Harrington wearing a Hellfire shirt.”
“I don’t know about you,” Eddie says faintly, “but if this was my dream he wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.”
“Oh, gross.”
“Look at him,” Eddie insists. Ever since that time at Jeff’s last year when the band was all high and Eddie got a little too honest, they’ve all sort of ignored the fact that Eddie is gay. They don’t ask him about girls and he doesn’t talk to them about guys. But this is…a special circumstance.
And it’s fine. Because Eddie is not the only person looking. Everyone is looking—some with sneers or confusion but most with envy or probably equal amounts of the lust that Eddie is currently trying to subdue. Even the straightest guy in the world has to admit that Steve is—
“Yeah,” Gareth says. “I mean no, still gross because it’s Harrington, but yeah I can see how—no. Never mind. I’m going to class.” Gareth pauses. “Wait. Do you think he’s going to sit with us at lunch?”
He sits with them at lunch.
Eddie more or less sleepwalks through his morning classes and leaves History before the bell so he can get to the lunchroom first and he does not save Steve a seat. He has no expectations when he enters the cafeteria. No hopes related to the company he’ll keep while consuming his soggy PB&J. He just has a jacket that ends up on the seat next to him and when Jeff tries to move it he maybe glares at him a little.
When Steve moves the jacket so he can sit down, Eddie does not glare.
“Fucking figures,” Jeff mutters.
Eddie is never going to live this down and he doesn’t even care.
“Nice shirt, big boy,” he says, because apparently Eddie’s mouth is just saying things.
Steve stills. For a moment, Eddie is reminded of the night before–of terror and gasped breathing. But then, just as quickly, he’s grinning at Eddie like some sort of sunshine creature, like joy incarnate, plucking at the tight fabric straining across his chest.
“I dunno, I don’t think I’m particularly big, it’s not my fault you gave me such a small size.”
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Eddie retorts.“Everyone who signed up at the beginning of the year got one custom made,” he gestures to the guys as proof before drumming his fingers against Steve’s shoulder. “This’s one of mine and the most exercise I get is hauling amps and running from cops.”
Steve reaches over to wrap his hand around Eddie’s bicep and it’s Eddie’s turn to go still under the heat of his palm and the weight of his attention. Steve meets his eyes for a fleeting second before they flick down to his own fingers. Steve squeezes.
“You seem plenty fit to me.”
“Amps,” Eddie repeats. It’s a little breathless. It’s fine.
“Jesus christ,” Jeff mutters.
Steve’s hand is still on his arm when nearly half the basketball team approaches, detouring to stop on their way to their standard table.
He wouldn’t say that a hush falls over the cafeteria but there are certainly a lot of eyes suddenly on their table. And not much talking.
“What the fuck, Harrington,” one of them––Eddie doesn’t know, nor does he care to know, his name––says. “You ditched us for the freaks?” He looks genuinely baffled, which Eddie has to admit is fair. “Is this some kind of joke? Does Munson have something on you?”
Steve leans away from the table, hand moving from Eddie’s arm to the back of his chair, he hitches his opposite elbow on the back of his own chair. He kicks one foot up to brace on the table leg. It’s the stereotypical jock position: chest wide, staking a possessive claim, except Eddie isn’t a cheerleader.
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Steve says.
“Dude, whatever it is,” the guy’s eyes linger on Eddie in a way that Eddie really does not like, “we can take care of it.”
Steve sighs.
It’s long and loud and purposeful.
“Listen, I feel like maybe Hagan hasn’t held up his end of our bargain, so let me make this as clear as I can and we can all be mature about it. Ah––” he interrupts himself, raising his voice a little, “No, hey. Look at me. All of you.” His tone is calm and level and patronizing in a way that Eddie knows would be infuriating if it was directed at him.
“I need you to understand,” he says slowly, making eye contact with each of them in turn, “That I’m not joking. I’m not posturing. If you touch Eddie, if you touch anyone at this table, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than passing your driving test or making the starting lineup. There are people in the world with real problems and if you fuck with any of my new friends, you’re going join them.”
A couple scoff. Tommy, near the back, is distinctly silent. And without their usual ringleader, no one else volunteers to step forward as the aggressor.
“What happened to you, man?” One of the guys says instead.
Steve sighs again. It feels more genuine this time. “I grew up,” he says. “I recommend it.”
And then he just…waves them off, like he’s tired.
And they leave.
The group retreats to their own table in a wake of low murmurs, and everyone lets out a collective exhale.
Except for Steve, who is leaning into Eddie’s space again.
“You were weirdly quiet through that,” Steve murmurs, pushing Eddie’s hair over his shoulder so he can whisper in his ear. It’s an entitled gesture. The heat of his breath, fanned against Eddie’s neck, sends goosebumps down his arms.
“If I’m mouthy, it tends to just piss people off,” Eddie mutters back. “And I’m trying not to cause trouble for you seeing as you seem to create plenty for yourself.”
“Do what you want,” Steve says easily. “I know how to fight.”
Eddie tells his dick to calm the fuck down.
Now is not the time.
“Besides,” Steve whispers, even quieter, lips practically against Eddie’s ear, “I think I prefer you mouthy.”
Fuck.
This is flirting, right? It has to be flirting.
He makes frantic eye contact with Jeff and––yeah, judging by the expression on Jeff’s face Eddie is not making shit up. Steve Harrington is hitting on him. In the school cafeteria.
“Oh hey,” Steve says abruptly, turning to pull a Tupperware container out of his stuffed full backpack. “I made cookies last night if you guys want some.”
“Cookies?” Gareth says faintly.
“Yeah, peanut butter chocolate chip. The kids I babysit wanted some so I made a double batch to share. They’re good, I promise. And I substituted applesauce for some of the sugar and oil so they’re not as unhealthy as they could be––but don’t tell the kids that.”
He peels off the lid and Eddie is hit with the second-most heavenly smell he’s ever encountered. The first may or may not be Steve Harrington himself, who is now handing him one of the cookies. Eddie takes it wordlessly, watching as Steve stands to carry the container around to everyone else.
Gareth leans across the table so only Eddie can hear him. “How confused is your boner right now?” Gareth whispers.
Eddie suppresses a slightly hysterical whine. “Oh, are we talking about this? We don’t need to talk about this.”
“I think we’re going to have to if he keeps this shit up.”
“No,” Eddie says. “No, no. I’ll be fine. I just need to…get my head straight.”
“Good luck with that.” Gareth takes a bite of his cookie, “Oh, damn, these are good.”
Eddie eats his own cookie and tries not to moan about it.
He’s fine. Everything is fine.
••••
Steve Harrington is good at D&D.
Eddie had been worried, at first, that Steve might not take things seriously. That he’d laugh at their silly voices or make fun of the guys who wear costumes or just…make it clear that he thought they were ridiculous. Childish.
Instead, he maybe takes things too seriously––asking detailed questions about terrain and weather patterns and doing so many perception checks that Jeff is about ready to strangle him an hour in, but his overly cautious approach uncovers more than one trap Eddie had set. Steve is excellent at strategy and disconcertingly good at organizing the party when there’s something to fight. Even more disconcerting, most of his strategies appear to involve martyrdom and it’s only through Eddie fudging his combat rolls a little that Steve’s character survives the night.
He’s not perfect, of course. Steve’s math skills are abysmal and he constantly has to be reminded what his modifiers are, which Eddie does gently and without complaint, because he’d copied down Steve’s stats the night before and he doesn’t want Steve to be embarrassed. The guys will definitely never, ever, let him live it down, but he figures he’s already lost so much credibility with them at this point a little more won’t be the end of the world.
And Steve keeps smiling at him, so.
Worth it.
When Steve’s watch alarm goes off, a minute before 7pm, he makes a hasty exit for the bathroom, bag in hand, and the other guys decide he must have some sort of medication he has to take and he didn’t want to do it in front of them. Eddie doesn’t correct them, doesn’t know how he would even try to correct the assumption because he doesn’t actually understand what Steve is doing. But it does remind him that there is a Mystery afoot and Eddie really should be trying to figure out what the hell is going on instead of just…mooning over Harrington’s pretty face.
Then again, nothing is stopping him from doing both.
The guys warm to Steve by the end of the session, patting his back and calling goodbye as they exit the doors under the external halogen lights.
The night is quiet and cool and when Steve offers to drive Eddie home, Eddie can only say yes. Eddie slides into the passenger seat, tossing his backpack into the back, and decides to take the opportunity to snoop. He opens the glove compartment and pulls out the handful of cassettes inside.
“Oh,” Steve says, “wait, that’s not––”
There’s Dio and Metallica, Iron Maiden and Motorhead, and then the artists Eddie suspected all along: Madonna, A-ha, Donna Summer, ABBA, Journey, The Eagles and—oh.
Fleetwood Mac. With Landslide on the B side.
It’s shiny and new. No scuffs on the case.
“Shit,” Steve mutters under his breath.
“When did you even have time to get this?” Eddie asks, baffled. And maybe he shouldn’t assume, maybe he’s completely off-base, but Steve looks like he’s been caught doing something illegal so he thinks the assumption is apt. “You left our place at like 10pm last night and you’ve been in school all day.”
“I have a free period before lunch. The record store is a five minute drive from campus.”
“But…why?”
“I don’t know,” Steve says, with the soft resignation of someone lying. It sounds more like, “I can’t tell you,” which makes Eddie want to shake him.
Eddie considers Steve’s shadowed face: his downturned mouth and his stupidly long eyelashes. He looks tired.
Eddie exhales. “Well, we’re listening to it.”
Steve doesn’t argue.
He doesn’t say anything else at all until they get to the trailer and he’s hurrying around to open Eddie’s door for him and get his bag from the backseat like Eddie is some girl he’s dropping off after a date.
“Oh wait,” he says, ducking back to grab his own bag. “I have—hold on, it’s—there we go.”
He emerges with another tupperware container in his hands, this one smaller than the one he passed around at lunch.
“I thought Wayne might want some,” he says shyly, eyes on the cookies in his hands. “As a thank you. For yesterday.”
Eddie is going to scream.
“That’s really nice. I’m sure he’ll love them, and if he doesn’t I’ll eat them because apparently you’ve been possessed by Betty Crocker’s ghost. Or—actually I don’t know if she’s dead or not. Or if she was a real person. Anyway, the point is that—“
Steve is smiling at him. Softly. Like he’d be happy to listen to Eddie ramble as long as he wants.
Eddie clears his throat. “Wayne should be home if you want to give them to him.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll, uh, walk you in.”
So much screaming.
Steve does walk him in, hands over the cookies to a baffled-looking Wayne, and then touches Eddie’s hand—hardly a touch at all really, his first two fingers resting, briefly, on Eddie’s wrist, his thumb tucked just under the meat of Eddie’s palm, almost like he’s checking Eddie’s pulse.
“Goodnight,” he says.
Eddie doesn’t even know if he responds.
He’s still looking down at his wrist when Steve’s car engine starts and the headlights fan over the windows before everything goes dark and still outside.
“So,” Wayne says. “Is he…”
“What?” Eddie asks blankly.
“...your sweetheart?”
That’s enough to break Eddie out of whatever trance he’d been in. “My–? Jesus. No. You know who you’re talking about, right?”
“I know what I’m seeing,” Wayne mutters. “Not sure I’m happy about it.”
Eddie’s stomach immediately goes sour. They’ve never actually discussed Eddie’s romantic preferences. Wayne knew. He had to know, considering the circumstances in which Wayne became Eddie’s guardian. But they’ve never said anything out loud to each other and Eddie was hoping to continue that tradition potentially for forever.
“Wait,” Wayne says, moving forward to squeeze his shoulder, “I didn’t mean––fuck, you know I’m no good at this shit. Come sit down.”
They move to the couch.
They sit.
Wayne digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“I don’t care who you’re sweet on or who you bring home, you hear me? As long as they treat you right and they don’t get you into trouble. But that Harrington boy… I get the feeling he’s trouble. And with his folks being who they are, I just want you to be careful. That boy has a history and I don’t know what it is, but I’d wager it isn’t pretty.”
“I don’t know what it is either,” Eddie murmurs. “He’s not––I don’t think he’s bad trouble, though. He’s trying to protect me. Us. At school. Even though it’s put a giant target on his back. He’s quit basketball and joined Hellfire and he’s. I don’t know. I like him.” It feels like a confession.
“I wonder how his Daddy feels about all that,” Wayne murmurs. “You ever seen him come to school hurt?”
Eddie considers. “I don’t know. Why?”
Wayne just looks at him.
“You think his parents––?”
“I think I know the kind of boy his father was. I can imagine the sort of man he turned into.”
Eddie feels chilled all the sudden. He gets up from the couch to close the open window above the sink. It doesn’t help. He rests his hands, fingers splayed, on the countertop. He taps his nails on the fornica.
Abuse wouldn’t explain the kids or the panic attack or why he suddenly seems obsessed with Eddie. But it would explain some things.
“I’m not going to start avoiding him,” Eddie says.
Wayne sighs. “I didn’t expect you would. Considering.”
Eddie doesn’t ask him to elaborate.
He holds up the container of cookies Wayne had abandoned on the counter, then carries them over to the couch when he nods.
Wayne selects the largest one from the top. “Did he actually play your dragons game?”
Eddie nearly chokes on a laugh, helping himself to a cookie as well. “He did. Wasn’t half bad, either.”
Wayne takes a bite. His eyebrows go up. “Shit, did he make these?”
“He did,” Eddie says.
“Well. I suppose we can keep him around.”
Pt. 7
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington/eddie munson#steve/eddie#eddie/steve#myfic#time travel fix it#stranger things fic
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Somebody Loves You, You Got A Friend. (Part 8)
Other parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
Seeing as all my current WIPs are making me mad, I nearly forgot about this. Since it’s already written out and in my notes app, I thought I should post it lol.
Quick note: a few POV changes happen, there’s a bit of plot and I kinda bash Nancy a bit. (picks up right after part 7)
Gareth watches as Eddie falls asleep and he only knows because of how relaxed his friend looks and he pulls his eyes away to find the freshmen looking so confused.
They don’t ask anything, thankfully, but they’re not at all sneaky with their glances towards Eddie. Or the completely silent conversation they have with each other.
He just hopes whatever it’s about doesn’t involve Eddie.
Eddie’s dragging the rest of the day and Gareth is about ready to explode at how dumb his friend is being, “dude, you should’ve stayed home”
“I had to take tests, that effects my final grades” he says, “I- Ms. Click fucking hates me dude”
And unfortunately, his friend is right and he has to watch as he suffers finding his work and everything else. The rest of the day is pretty boring, the only weird thing was catching Nancy Wheeler eye Eddie during their shared class. He only noticed because he’s trying and failing at not laughing at Eddie, who’s nodding off during Mr. Smith’s lecture.
Once the final bell rings, he’s trying to find Eddie since their last class isn’t shared.
He turns the corner and nearly falls on his ass, “fuck” he mumbles and looks to see the person he ran into, “dude my bad.”
Jonathan Byers nods and helps him up, “sorry, I wasn’t paying attention either”
He’s about to say something else, when he hears an all too familiar laugh. Looking around he finds Eddie with a nasty glare aimed at Nancy Wheeler, he looks at Jonathan and wordlessly they both move towards the other two.
“I don’t fucking sell shit anymore, Wheeler and it wouldn’t be any of your business if I did!”
She crossed her arms and glares up at Eddie, “but you did sell! And it is my business!”
He can just see Eddie’s anger, before anything else happens, he steps closer to his friend and quickly grabs his arm, “Eddie let’s go, cool off before you get home, yeah?”
Eddie doesn’t answer, just glares at Nancy, “it’s not your business, he told you to stay away! That means, stay away from me too.”
He doesn’t say more, simply because Gareth punches his arm and leads him back out, “dude what the fuck?”
Eddie shakes his head and makes a beeline to the van, “Nancy is a bitch, dude.”
“I noticed, who were you talking about?”
“Stevie. Nancy believes she can get him to help her with some shit. Been like this for a year now, when Stevie and I were only just starting out with our friendship” Eddie explains with a glare aimed at nothing and his hands clutching and unclutching from frustration, “When he was only a few months pregnant, there was one morning where his mom answered the door to find her standing there and wanted her to wake him up to fucking talk about whatever”
That’s, really fucking confusing to Gareth. He looks towards the school and sees Jonathan and Nancy walk out with their brothers, “didn’t Nancy break up with Steve?”
Eddie let out a near hysterical laugh, a cigarette dangling from his mouth now, “She nearly fucking broke him, actually.”
“What?”
Eddie jumps into the drivers seat, pointing a finger to his passenger seat and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Once inside the van and Eddie starts it up, “Stevie told me that she blamed him for Barb’s death and his mom told me about how she found him sobbing about it. He said Nancy called him bullshit, that their whole relationship was bullshit.”
“Fuck dude”
He’ll never be able to look at Nancy the same, “and now she’s pushing you to what?”
Eddie scruffs and turns down his street, “Fuck, I don’t even know. She came up to me demanding to know if I knew why Stevie left school or where he is, then when I wouldn’t answer, tried saying I’m a bad influence”
He laughed, “I mean you are but not like that”
“Fuck you dude” he smiles and shakes his head, “I haven’t sold anything since I found about Ellie. Wayne pulled me aside after we told him, to tell me that I needed to stop- I mean, I already was thinking it.” He shrugs, “I don’t know why Nancy would think like that”
Gareth doesn’t either and he tells this to Eddie, the van comes to a stop in front of his home, “I don’t know either, she sounds like she’s a little obsessed with Steve.”
“I know and it’s weird, right?”
The Next Day
Eddie is woken up by Eleanor’s cry and he groans, he feels Steve stir next to him and he shushes him, “stay, I’ll grab her” he gets a hum in return and he sits up before dragging himself over to her crib.
She’s kicking her legs and wiggling trying to get out of the blanket, “hey baby” he whispers to catch her attention, she blinks up at him and whines.
Smiling, he lifts her up and rocks her, “come on, cranky.” He looks over and sees Steve smiling at him, it makes his heart beat a little faster.
Steve moves up a bit and pulls his shirt off, before he can even sit down next to him. Eleanor is no longer crying, thankfully, but Steve still makes grabby hands at him.
Laughing, he hands her over and then pulls the covers back over them before wrapping his arm around Steve. They sit in silence as Eleanor drinks and Steve drops his head onto his shoulder, “I guess it’s another long day”
Laughing softly he pressed a kiss to his head, “want me to stay home?”
“Maybe? She was so fussy yesterday, Eds.” He whispers, a hand patting her back, “even mom couldn’t get her to settle”
Later on Janet finds all three of them in bed asleep, Eleanor in Steve’s arms and Steve against Eddie. She shakes her head before going over and shaking Eddie, “Honey, don’t you have school today?”
He blinks back sleep and looks up to find her standing there, “nah, I’m skipping today. Gotta help Stevie”
She smiles, nodding before placing a kiss on their foreheads, “I’ll call the school, have one of your friends pick up your schoolwork later, okay?”
He nods and she smiles before walking out of the room and he looks down to find Steve still asleep with Eleanor snuggled against him. Sighing, he relaxes back down and decides they don’t need to get up anytime soon.
Steve is humming along to the mixtape Eddie put on to fill the kitchen as they make breakfast/lunch.
It’s currently noon and Eleanor is having tummy time in the living room with Eddie, while he’s busy making breakfast sandwiches. They slept in until nearly eleven and when they made their way downstairs, Steve found a note from his mom telling them she had several appointments today.
He can hear Eddie encouraging Eleanor to move around as he makes his way towards them with their food, when the doorbell rings. Confused, he sets the plates down and goes to the front door and through the peephole finds Nancy and Jonathan.
Even more confused and a little frustrated, he opens the door with, “Isn’t today a school day? Why are you guys here?”
They both look shocked to see him, which is weird since they’re the one’s knocking on his door.
“I’ve been trying to find you!” Nancy starts with and there’s her angry determination, “you’ve been locked up in your house?!”
Jonathan just looks uncomfortable.
Raising an eyebrow at her, he shakes his head, “uh, yes? I live here. Just because we don’t run into each other doesn’t mean I left town. Just my asshole father, now you should go back to school. Isn’t this your senior year?”
“Shouldn’t you be there with us?”
Rolling his eyes, he leans against the wall. Giving the impression of indifference, “I graduated earlier this year, through a different school. Not that it concerns you, I’ve told you before, Nancy. I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m definitely not your friend.” He then looks At Jonathan then back at her, “he’s your boyfriend, now leave me alone. Leave Eddie alone while you’re at it”
Nancy narrows her eyes at him and he can just barely smell the annoyance in the air from her scent, “So you are still friends with him? Is he the reason you dropped out? Why you won’t help with the upside down?”
“I have much more important things in life,” he thinks of carrying Eleanor for nine months, holding her and feeding her, thinks of being with Eddie and the alpha holding him like he’s the whole world, “like I said before, I was there to apologize. I stepped in when you needed help, but afterwards? We were told it was over. Will was found and is fine and safe. Shouldn’t you guys be over this?”
Neither person in front of him can give him an answer because he hears Eddie shout, “Oh Stevie! The little missy and I miss you!”
He sees the confusion on their faces and before they can ask, he slams the door in their faces. Which if he’s being honest, he should’ve done sooner. He locks the door and turns around to the ones that actually deserve his attention.
He knows, Nancy won’t give up though.
~
Yikes I completely forgot how I wrote Nancy in this 🫣 oops. Please know I DO love her but she’s just a stubborn person and can’t understand that Steve’s not involved and refuses to be involved.
I can’t believe I added plot to this lol anyway, we’ll get to more slice of life again 🥰
If you see any typos or mistakes, let me know!! Also if you have any ideas that you’d like to see, send me an ask or message! Same goes for if you want to be added to the tag list!
@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @zerokrox-blog @callme-keys @maya-custodios-dionach @rajumat @yellowdevilkitten @munsonfamilyband @steddierthings @tartarusfairy @mx-jinxous @zombiethingy @lunaticmarunatic @carlyv @thelittleclare @estrellami-1 @epiclazershark @bookworm0690 @forest-fogg @flustratedcas @p0lybl4nkk @tiny-enthusiast @a-gae-af-racoon @blackpanzy @marvelmwah @malicia62 @solliesolesito
#steddie#steddie fic#omegaverse#a/b/o fic#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#Steve x eddie#nburkhardt writes#steddie au#we’ll get The Party meeting steddie and their baby soooooon
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Like a Train | Arven x GN!Reader
Rating: Teen+
Summary: You and Arven are best buds. After he makes a minor change in his appearance, you're left wondering why you suddenly want more than that.
Author’s Note: My headcanon age for Arven is that he’s a young adult, somewhere between 20-24 years old. If this proves to be wrong in the future, please consider him to be aged up to this range!
Likewise, for the sake of the continuity (i.e. Little Buddy and whatnot), you have a similarly tiny stature to the main character in Pokémon SV. For the sake of all of us, your character here is not a teenager lol, but instead roughly the same age as Arven, give or take a few years.
Finally, the academy takes students of all ages (as you see in the game), but I wrote it with more of a college setting in mind.
Thank you for understanding!! ^^ Please see the end for more notes x
Check it out on ao3!
“Aha. Perfect timing to make eye contact,” Raifort calls out, followed by my name. She then proceeds to ask a question about what she was just discussing, knowing that I wasn’t paying attention.
Instead, I was engaged in a quiet, heated discussion with my desk-mate, research partner, and one of my only friends in Paldea so far… about our teacher’s hair.
Why does that one piece of her fringe move so much? Is it sentient? Is it a glitch in the life-simulation? Would it bleed if she were to cut or shave it off? Does she know it does that? Does she do it on purpose somehow? This is important stuff!
“Get fucked,” my accomplice whispers as I stutter out gibberish. I try to gather my thoughts and come up with something to appease Raifort.
Once I realize it’s to no avail, I give up, lean back in my seat, and shoot my friend a squint. One that silently says, ‘I hate you, if she gets mad it is totally your fault, I will kill you if you make this any worse.’
Smirking, Arven’s leaning on our shared desk with both elbows, with his hands against his forehead. He’s using his right one to hold a pen, as well as keep his bangs out of the corresponding eye, and he’s slightly turned towards me. Making sure he can inconspicuously watch me suffer at his expense, with that pretty teal gaze of his. I am but a jester in his court. Luckily, Raifort catches on and calls the man out.
“Oh, perhaps you would like to answer the question instead, Master Arven?”
His head whips up, and he drops his bangs (and nearly his pen). “N-no thank you, ma’am.”
Raifort sighs, letting this exchange slide with a curt glare, and continues her lecture.
I snort back a laugh, covering it up by clearing my throat. Then, I softly parrot “Get fucked,” into Arven’s ear, nudging his elbow with mine. Just as we both break into a fit of giggles, we’re saved by the bell.
“You’re a prick,” I laugh as I shove my notes into my backpack.
“No you,” Arven quips. Very original. “What are you doing after this?” he asks, shifting the conversation.
“Well,” I ponder, “You wanted to scope out the area where our next titan allegedly lives this week, yeah?” He nods, walking in front of me as we exit the class. “Cool, then let’s go!”
“What? Now?!” I nod and hum enthusiastically as I wrap around to his left. He looks out the nearby window at the sunset, and his one visible eyebrow furrows as he turns to face me. “Don’t get me wrong little buddy, I love the enthusiasm, but it’s a bit late for that. It’ll be dark by the time we’re on site.”
I let my trusty Fuecoco out of its Pokéball. It looks up at us as we slow to a halt, and I present it to Arven, arms stretched out towards the Pokémon. “Our flashlight!”
Fuecoco, wanting to help, does its own little pose. Its arms promptly spread, and it balances on one stubby leg, shaking as it tries not to fall over.
Arven bites back a smile and rolls his eyes. “We went to a ton of classes today, I don’t want to do more work.”
I scoop up Fuecoco and scratch under its chin before we continue walking. “We can camp, too...”
Arven deadpans me, pursing his lips in frustration. He loves camping. There’s no way he’ll turn down a late-night adventure if it ends with a good ol’ camp!
“I’ll let you make the sandwiches,” I sing, trying to convince him further.
We reach the entrance hall and pull off to a nearby pillar to get out of other students’ ways. After placing his backpack on the ground next to his legs, Arven crosses his arms and leans against the pillar. I lean against the nearest wall, about 2 feet away. Fuecoco is having a blast inspecting all the passing students from my arms, occasionally waving to their accompanied Pokémons.
“You won’t just give them all to the lizardmobile?” he asks, staring down at me with contempt.
“Shouldn’t you be flattered that ‘Raidon loves your cooking?!” I whine. I shake my head, and knowing Arven’s retort already, I cut him off before he can even start. “Either way, no promises, but I swear to Arceus I won’t complain about being hungry.”
A heavy sigh leaves the ambiguously blond’s nostrils. “…Go on,” Arven prompts, wanting more bribes.
I squint at him. He gives me a smug grin. “Hmm,” I dramatically hum in thought. “I’ll pay for the ingredients.”
“And?”
“I’ll get stuff to make s’mores, too.”
“And?”
“What more do you want from me, dude?!”
His smile is now downright evil, and he stays silent. He untucks a hand to vaguely gesture at me, then crosses it back into his arms, waiting for me to continue.
“I can, uh.” I look around for ideas, but I’ve got nothing. “I dunno…” I wince, knowing that ‘I dunno’ is not a very convincing offer.
He chuckles.
Noticing how sleepy Fuecoco seems to be getting, I return it. Now, it’s time to use my last resort.
“Pleeease?” I pout. Fidgeting with Fuecoco’s ball. Tucking my arms behind my back and swiveling my upper body to feign innocence. Batting my eyelashes for added effect.
It looks like there’s a hint of rosiness to Arven’s cheeks as he gives in, clutching his fists. He turns his head in another direction, shutting his eyes. What a drama queen! I beam, though, knowing what this means.
“Fine.” I open my mouth to cheer, but he holds up a palm to stop me. “But we’re only investigating for an hour.”
I scowl. “2 hours.” I make my way to the nearest hallway and dig through my bag for my student ID.
“Hour and a half.”
“3 hours!”
“No?”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you!” He laughs, following me. “Go pack before I change my mind.”
“You don’t need to?” I question, swiping my card at the station closest to the elevators. Arven reaches behind himself and pats his obnoxiously large backpack. I roll my eyes in response. “Wait here, then. I’ll try to be quick.”
_______________
Arven was right. After a quick stop at Deli Cioso, we made our way on ‘Raidon to the steel titan’s location, where it was pitch black. Only had the moon, the stars, and Fuecoco as our guiding light.
We tried to work with it: Observing the various burrows in the cliffsides, the uniform cracks in the ground, the way the earth would occasionally rumble beneath us. But when Fuecoco was startled by a cheeky Misdreavous, it accidentally lit the corner of my notebook on fire. We took that as a sign to call it a night.
Arven and I found a nice spot to make camp, high up and overlooking a distant Levincia. I can’t wait to go there for the gym challenge. Maybe I’ll try to spend a few nights there with my prize money.
I take a break from my daydreaming and turn back to see Arven setting up a foldable table to make food on. Or, at least he’s trying to. Both of our teams are very eager to get in his way. My Tinkatuff keeps whacking its hammer at the table legs, shaking it up, while Arven’s Toedscruel pokes at his back, wanting attention.
“Need any help?”
“No,” he stubbornly mumbles.
I roll my eyes and find a spot to sit by the campfire. My back is up against a tree, and I’m on a spare blanket that I brought specifically for this purpose. Figured it’s better than letting our pants get all dirty on the ground.
Just as I’m getting cozy, I hear a frustrated “Oh, you little shits!” I peer up, and my friend is looking at me from his workstation, his features riddled with defeat.
The table is covered in sandwich-picks, salt, pepper, and lettuce, which Arven’s Greedent is eagerly munching away at. Poor guy can’t do anything about it because my Eevee is parkouring between his arms and shoulders, slipping right out from his grasp every time he thinks he can grab it.
I can’t help but laugh at the mess unraveling before me, but get up to help anyway. After returning each of my Pokémon to their balls, Arven is able to do the same.
“Not having a chance to battle all day must’ve really amped them up,” he grumbles, cleaning the spilled food and condiments.
I lean over the table, opposite from him. “Excuse me for wanting to take a day off from the treasure hunt to make sure neither of us will flunk out.”
“I didn’t even need most of the classes we went to today.”
“Technically, you do,” I point out. “You’re, like, way behind on credits, no?” He scoffs, and incoherently grumbles under his breath. Trying to think on the bright side, I add on, “Cheer up, bud. Being able to pick when we go to which classes and who we go with is cool, at least. My last college would never.”
“True,” he grunts, lugging out a portable generator to plug his panini press into. “Still doesn’t make me enjoy any of it.”
After rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, Arven dips his head down, pulling a hair tie out from one of his pockets. I’m about to nag him, like, ‘The better you do, the sooner you’ll be done, and I can help you study,’ and all that. But instead, he stands up straight again, and my brain short-circuits.
Forearms. Broad shoulders. Both eyes. Ponytail. Baby hairs— oh, he’s pinning them back. Those eyes. Both eyes! Eyebrows. Neck… thick. Hair… up… Oh Arceus the puffy vest is coming off too.
Hrng. Shit.
Arven says something but I don’t hear him. Have his lips always looked so nice? Since when is he this attractive? How do I look? Do I look okay? Does he think I look okay?
A large hand snaps in front of my face, and I hear my name being sternly spoken by the man in front of me. I blink a few times, coming to. How long was I staring for?
“W-wha—?”
“Everything okay, amiguito?”
Both of Arven’s bushy eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks concerned for me, albeit amused. My cheeks feel warm with blush, and I can only hope that he doesn’t notice it.
“Y-yeah, uh,” I struggle to form words. “Tired, I guess.”
His eyes zigzag around my face… and he looks… so... Oh no, oh no oh no oh no he is so hot. And he totally can see how red my face is with how bright the nearby fire is. He’s about to pry — I can tell by his arms folding across his chest — but I make a swift escape.
“Oops! Leftsomethinginthetent!”
I can comfortably stand up straight in our tent, but opt to fall to my knees, curling into a ball while I try to get my act together.
I’ve thought Arven was cute ever since I met him a few months ago. But I’ve never felt, like… like this. It doesn’t make any sense! I’ve never looked into his eyes and felt Butterfrees in my stomach. I’ve never looked at his mouth and wanted to kiss it. I’ve never looked at his neck and wondered what it would look like covered in love bites. My love bites.
Or… I don’t think I have…?
I spend a few heartbeats wracking my brain for clues. Seeing if this is as sudden as it feels like it is. But like a train, I’m hit with thoughts of all the stolen glimpses I’ve taken in passing. Of my stomach doing flips when Arven murmurs my name a certain way. His smile sometimes being all it takes to brighten my worst days. The way I’ve memorized the feeling of his hand wrapped with mine, pulling me off the ground or ripping me away from danger…
Oh god.
It makes complete sense, actually.
How in the world am I supposed to go back out there and focus on anything other than him, now that it’s all clicked?
Phew. I gotta breathe. I can do this! I’ll just act how I usually do. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? Right!
I check my appearance with my phone’s camera, take another deep breath, and emerge back outdoors. Rather than meeting Arven at the table, I sit by the fire again. I feel eyes on me, and feeling hopeful that it’s a wild Pokémon, I look up at Arven… who’s looking at me.
“What?”
“¿Qué pasa?” he asks. “You seem weird.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about, I’m fine. Peachy as a pecha berry.”
“Sure...”
“I am!”
He sighs, and continues assembling our sandwiches. “Did… did I do something wrong?” Arven asks.
“What?”
“I-I do really appreciate that you want me to do well in classes, if that’s what this is about. It’s amazing that you help me out as much as you do, and I’m sorry if it didn’t seem like—”
My brows furrow as I cut him off, “What?! Arven, i-it’s fine, I get you. This has nothing to do with that.”
“Aha!” He whips around to face me after putting one of the sandwiches into the heated press. “Something is up.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find words. Then, I frown. Then, I look at the fire. If I ignore him, he’ll surely drop it, right?
Wrong.
I hear footsteps, but don’t look up. I see something crouching near me, but I shift my eyes the other way. Then, I hear a thump in each ear and see a shadow in my peripherals. I finally look up, and Arven’s arms are outstretched to either side of me. When I meet his eyes, I realize that his face is closer than I could’ve ever expected it to be. Oh Arceus above.
“A-Arven?!”
“Please let me help you, bud. All I want is to be able to help you the way you’ve been helping Mabosstiff and I.”
I’ve only ever known Arven to be persistent, and a little clingy, and self-conscious enough to max out both of those traits at certain times. Realistically, I should’ve seen something like this coming. But even if I did, nothing could have prepared me for him to cage me against a tree. Face inches from mine. Both eyes boring into mine with concern.
What am I supposed to say?! ‘Sorry, but you’re ridiculously attractive, and apparently I have feelings for you, and I only realized that because you pUT YOUR HAIR IN A STUPID FUCKING PONYTAIL—‘
He addresses me again, softer this time. My eyes are trained on his smooth lips, drinking in the way they ebb as he speaks my name. I snap out of my trance, and when I look into his eyes, there’s a certain vulnerability I’ve only seen come out when it comes to his partner Pokémon.
Oh god damnit.
There’s no getting out of this.
I let out a shaky breath, and all I can manage to squeak out, is “Y-you… you’re really handsome, is all. Caught me off guard.” I mean, it’s half-true.
I look down, worried about what expression I’ll see in Arven’s eyes. I mean to look ‘through’ him, but instead I’m focused on his lips again. I gnaw at my own bottom one to stop myself from leaning in towards my friend’s.
When I notice how silent he’s been, I bravely peek up, and his cheeks are a deep, tamato berry red. His eyebrows twitch, unsure of where to settle. It’s adorable. And his mouth is open ever so slightly, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know what or how.
As if the universe is trying to save me, Arven and I smell something burning, and lock widened eyes. I peek past him at the fire, while he removes his palms from the tree and twists his upper body towards the table.
“Shit!” Arven exclaims, scrambling to his feet.
_______________
“I can’t believe you’re eating that.”
I look up from my plate and shrug. “The fillings even out the taste of char.”
Arven laughs. “You’re nasty. Even your dumb lizard didn’t want it.”
“Duh, it has a refined palette.” Through another half-mouthful of burnt bread, melted cheese, and various proteins and veggies, I continue, “It’sh been shpoiled by your herba myshtica concoctionsh.”
Swiping the crumbs of his finished sandwich off his pants and onto his empty plate, Arven responds, “Fair. But still, I could’ve just made you a new one.” He nods over to Levincia, and adds, “‘Raidon could have brought you down there for more bread and back in only a few minutes, no?”
“Well, probably, but I didn’t wanna wait.”
He puts the plate down beside him and puts his hands behind his head, leaning back onto the same tree he had me pinned against no more than 20 minutes ago. His eyes are closed. He looks so peaceful. So pretty…
Nope. Gotta stop. I can’t gawk at him again. I’ve done more than enough of that.
“Plus,” I add to my previous statement, “I don’t like to be wasteful.”
“You're like a Garbodor.”
I gasp, feigning offense. Even though Arven can’t see my expression, the corners of his lips are upturned.
“If I were a pokémon I’d be something way cuter, thank you very much.”
Wanting to get it out of the way, I hork down the last bite of my sandwich. The warmed fillings truly are delicious, but we have no utensils, and I didn’t wanna get my hands even dirtier, so I had to settle for using the burnt bread as a vessel. It’s not exactly an easy eat.
“Sí… Mas pequeño, también,” Arven clarifies.
After chasing my food with a bunch of water, I respond, “Exaaactly.”
“Like… a Wooper.” I open my mouth to agree, and knowing me too well, he holds up a finger to stop me. His lids open slightly as he side-eyes me. “A Paldean Wooper. Not the blue ones you had back in wherever-the-hell.”
I tuck my legs to my chest and snort back a laugh. “Are you telling me I look like a Wooper covered in shit?”
“Are you insulting the fauna of my country?” I deadpan him, and his smile grows. “Also, yes, I am calling you a Wooper covered in shit.” I roll my eyes at his confirmation.
“I tell you that you look good, and this is the thanks I get…” I mumble into my knees.
As if he’d forgotten, Arven’s eyes widen. A thick blush coats his nose and cheeks, and my own face copies. Fuck. Why did I say that? Everything was going so well.
“Y-you… hah,” he lets out a breathy laugh and continues, “You did say that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” I mutter under my breath, “Arceus, why did I bring that up again?”
Arven leans off of the tree and swivels his body to face mine. “I do.” I wanna punch that cocky smirk off his face sooo badly. Restraining myself, I look down. “I thought I said something to upset you,” he laments, prompting me to look back up. “But instead, you were just in awe of my dashing good looks.” He punctuates his sentence with a flick at his ponytail.
I feel myself getting flustered again, so I can’t think of a witty response. I just laugh into my knees, and hug them closer. The laugh trails into a frustrated growl. Then, I grumble something that I barely even understand, followed by a surprised squeak when I feel a large palm ruffling my hair.
“Seriously, though, what else is wrong?”
“Nothing?” I mutter out while smoothing Arven’s mess.
“What do you mean? It can’t be just that.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell ya, big guy. The ponytail is a good look for you.”
“...You’re messing with me, ¿sí?”
“Just take the compliment!” I snap. “You’re hot, Arven. I don’t typically function as intended when I’m around people I like.”
Wide, turquoise eyes pierce into mine. “‘Like,’ eh?”
In disbelief that I’m spewing all this right now, I bury my face into my hands. Trying to maneuver around the situation, I ramble, “I mean, you’ve seen me with Saguaro. My ability to form coherent words eludes me when I’m around that hunk.”
“You think I’m hot?”
“Arven.”
“And you like m—“
“Bud.”
“Amiguito—“
“Please stop,” I whine, trying not to actually cry or throw a tantrum.
The crackling of the campfire fills empty space, assisted by the occasional lokix chirp. Waves crash in the distance, but any bustle coming from Levincia is silent to us. A few moments go by, and still feeling Arven’s eyes on me, I sigh.
“It’s just… weird for me,” I quietly explain. “You’re my best friend. I never expected to suddenly be hit with feelings any greater than that.”
“Just to clarify,” he teases, “this happened because I put my hair up?”
“I mean,” I trail off to find my wording. Looking everywhere except his face. “I-I’m sure it was brewing longer than that and I just didn’t realize. It’s dumb, I know, but—”
Arven shuffles over to make more space in front of the tree. Shifting his position from cross-legged to sitting on his knees, he then pulls me closer to him, by the waist, all while his eyes never stray from mine. Then, just like earlier, he traps me against the tree. Last time he did this, his eyes were filled with worry. This time, they’re dark with want. Oh good god.
Dumbfounded by the intimate touch, and how he’s looking at me, and how close we are, and the way he’s now cupping my face with one of his hands and moving his face closer to my face oh my god, I stutter, “W-what are you—?!”
“Cállate, pendejo,” he whispers, just before his lips meet mine.
______________________________________________________________
Author’s Note 2.0, I guess: *I’m not a native Spanish speaker, so please correct me if I’m wrong!! But I went with “male” endings to words because like, iirc, addressing something with a male pronoun is the closest there is to gender-neutrality in a case like this? I think? And I wanted this to be as ungendered as I could make it so anyone can feel welcome :’)
Also! The Raifort hair thing refers to a glitch in my game LOL Idk if it's a universal experience but I thought it would be fun to add in
I hope you enjoyed! Take care x
#arven#arven pokemon#trainer arven#pokemon arven#arven x reader#gender neutral reader#no use of y/n#pokemon sv#pokemon scarlet#pokemon violet#pokemon fanfic#pokemon scarvi#pokemon fanfiction#pokemon arven x reader#unnamed reader#ungendered reader#first person POV#tw cursing#friends to lovers#no beta read#spanish speaking arven#arven x male reader#arven x nb reader#arven x female reader
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i really want a part 2 on this 🥹
pairing: yeonjun x male!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 650
summary: after salvaging your prom night, yeonjun takes you out on your first date
includes: blushy yeonjun, lots of fluff, outfit inspo from this pic
a/n: thank you for requesting !! once again, i'm so sorry fics have taken so long to write, thank you for all of your continuous patience <33 i hope you like it :))
likes, comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated <33
PART 01 / PART 02
yeonjun anxiously wipes the palms of his hands against the fabric of his jeans; his eyes continuously glance back towards the glass double doors in search of you. he impatiently drums his fingertips against the polished marble table. he tops on his phone twice, causing the screen to briefly light up, showing the time. 11:28.
the small bell hanging just above the door startles yeonjun, alerting him to the entrance of yet another customer - although this time the sight takes his breath away. you smile softly at him as you wander over to sit across from him at the table. your hair has been freshly washed and casually styled. an oversized gray sweater hangs loosely from your frame. from across the table yeonjun can just barely smell the cologne you put on.
“hey,” you smile brightly at him. “i’m not late, am i? i had to catch the bus.”
“no, no,” yeonjun chuckles. “not at all.” he slides one of the cups of coffee across the table towards you with a sheepish smile. “i ordered your favourite.”
“really?” you gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes.
yeonjun stifles a soft chuckle underneath his breath, nodding towards the cup. “try it.”
the beverage tastes sweet in your mouth when you raise the cup to your lips to take a sip. a satisfied hum leaves your lips as you set the cup back down on the table. “you’re too good to me, choi yeonjun.”
“i found a path in naksan park a few days ago,” yeonjun says. “i figured we could go for a walk once we finish our drinks. you know, see the sights. it’s nice outside.”
“i’d like that,” you smile.
“wow,” you whisper, pausing to look at the view of the city. a variety of skyscrapers and buildings nearly touch the clouds in the distance. “it’s beautiful.”
“just like you.”
you playfully swat at yeonjun’s shoulder. “you’re so corny,” you chuckle.
“you love it.”
you snicker, turning back towards the path before you begin your trek once again. yeonjun can feel his heart rate speeding up when your hands gently brush against each other. you softly smile when you glance over at him, hesitantly reaching out to take yeonjun’s hand into your own. despite the deep blush that spreads across his face he intertwines your fingers together.
“hey, look,” you say, gently tugging yeonjun alongside you as you divert from the path slightly. you follow the sidewalk even further until you reach a small, metal bench sitting underneath a line of trees. “let’s sit down.”
the metal feels cool against your skin as you sit down side by side. a comfortable silence falls between you for a few minutes as you relax; watching the bugs fly around you.
yeonjun leans back against the bench, shifting slightly to face you. his lips quirk into a soft smile as his eyes study each of your features. the shape of your eyes. the slope of your nose bridge. the angle of your jawline. the plumpness of your lips.
“y/n,” yeonjun’s quiet murmur catches your attention away from a stray butterfly. his face flushes slightly when you glance over at him. he hesitantly raises a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing a hand against your skin. your breath hitches in your throat when his gaze flickers down to your lips and then back up to your eyes.
“yeonjun,” you whisper. he nervously catches his bottom lip between his teeth - a particularly attractive bad habit.
yeonjun leans in just enough for you to feel his forehead press against yours. his touch lingers against your skin, igniting electricity in its wake. “can i kiss you?”
“yes.” your eyes instinctively flutter closed as you follow yeonjun’s lead in leaning in even closer. his nose brushes against yours before he finally closes the gap, capturing your lips against his in a sweet kiss.
#txt fluff#txt x reader#txt x male reader#yeonjun fluff#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun x male reader#yeonjun imagine#yeonjun one shot#yeonjun scenario#yeonjun drabble#txt one shot#txt drabble#txt scenario#txt imagine#male reader#yeonjun x you#yeonjun x y/n#txt x you#txt x y/n#txt fanfic#yeonjun fanfic#txt yeonjun#yeonjun#txt#txt soft hours#txt soft thoughts
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adamantine chains | part 5
"Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus."
"What does that mean?"
"Love is rich with both honey and venom."
"I suppose that is true."
Or which in König finds you broken in the mountains. A (brief) retelling of Cupid and Psyche.
König | Reader
a/n: i did not proofread - please give me a rest.
request a fic here | buy me a coffee so I don't have to work overtime and can write more
first chapter | previous chapter
The months drift by, and it's almost easy to pretend you've always been here - always meant to stumble into König's life. You take a job in town at a local cafe to pass the time while König's gone, your photographs developed and sold by the front door as you brew coffee for the townspeople, stumbling over the German each day until finally, you can recognize their orders. It's a random Tuesday and König's standing outside the glass, staring intently at you, when it happens.
You know he's waiting on you to be done, to hang up your apron and go on your walk through the village like the two of you do every day. Today you'll hand him your paycheck so he can cash it out for you; you'll try to press the money into his hands, to contribute something to the household, but König will press the money back towards you with an assurance that he has enough money, and he doesn't need yours.
You're wiping down the counter when you hear English. Two women at the table nearest to you mention König's name, and your attention is dragged toward them.
"He probably kidnapped her - she's an American you know."
"She's probably a prisoner; he never leaves her side."
"He's gone sometimes."
"And yet she never leaves. His grandmother is helping him, I know it."
Your hands slow in their pursuit of cleanliness, trying to linger and hear their conversation.
"I wonder if she's ever seen his face. I would love to know if the rumors are true."
"Rumors?"
"Yes; apparently he's disgusting beneath that mask. A monster. You know what he does for a living right?"
The rest of their conversation is drowned out by the bell above the door. König stands there, annoyed at how long you're taking.
"Are you ready Taube?"
You glance at the two women, who are giving each other known glances. The one farthest away from you - a woman nearly twice your age looks up and catches your eye briefly. You jerk away from her gaze, dropping the rag and yanking your apron off. Your coworker waves goodbye at you from the back; you pause long enough to wave back before ducking underneath König's arm. He lingers in the doorway - and you wonder for a moment if he knew what the two women were saying.
He falls into step beside you, and neither of you speaks. The air is warm - warmer than it's been in months. The pattern stays unbroken as you press your check into König's hand; this time, however, when he gives you the money back, you don't try to give it back to him. You can see, even with the mask hanging down and covering his face, his eyebrows knit together. He doesn't say anything as the two of you start back on your path toward where he always parks the car.
König deviates from the path, pulling you into an alley between two homes. He presses you into the brick, blocking your view of the street.
"König what-"
His hands slide up your shoulders until they cup your neck fingers overlapping together. He tilts your head back until you're forced to look him in the eye.
"Why do you not want to come home with me today?"
You reach up to wrap your hands around his wrists, fingers not able to wrap completely around.
"What are you talking about König?"
His grip tightens just by a millimeter and your stomach twists - thoughts of what he could do to you, what you beg him to do to you, mix with the conversations the women were having; questions you'd buried the past few months resurfacing.
"You did not try to force your money on me. You did not come out of work with the same smile I wait for every day I am home. What is wrong?"
"Nothing König."
"You are a liar."
You know that he can feel the way your pulse quickens beneath his hands; you swallow heavily, not wanting to tell him about what the women were saying - not about how you're sure they spoke in English to catch your attention, but not wanting to lie to him. So you don't.
"I just had some rude customers today. I just want to go home."
König doesn't say anything, but he doesn't let you go. You want to forget about what the women said, forget about the way it brought up doubts about König - about your life here. You press yourself closer to him, hands tugging on König's wrist until you pull him down to eye level. You try to reach up, to push his mask up enough to kiss him, but he pulls away, dropping his hands from his neck.
"Not here, my love."
Apparently he's disgusting beneath that mask. A monster.
The woman's voice rings through your head as you follow König to the car. The two of you don't speak on the drive - you can't stop thinking about what could be under the mask - who you could be sleeping with every night. Things you hadn't thought about in months.
The house is quiet and dark; you leave König behind as you disappear into the bathroom, knowing that he won't follow you behind a locked door. You let the shower warm up, steam building up as you strip slowly, standing on your tip toes and turning in the mirror so that you can see the purple and yellow bruises König left on you the last time the two of you had sex; you had asked for him to hold you tighter, and he did.
The water burns your skin as you climb in; you grit your teeth and bare it until the water doesn't feel so terrible. You feel awful, wondering about König - about letting some random women worm their way into your mind.
By the time you make it out of the shower, your fingers are pruny and your head is light from the hot water. Your feet slip on the tile; you catch yourself with a curse.
"Are you safe, my love?"
Of course, König is waiting outside the door for you.
You answer him by opening the door, tucking your towel around your body; your hair drips heavily down your back. König's waiting there for you at parade rest, hands behind his back.
"I'm fine - just a slip."
König reaches towards you, and you skirt his fingers, dipping into your room to get dressed. You don't shut the door behind you - but König doesn't follow you into the room. He sighs heavily and disappears into the kitchen, boots heavy against the floor.
Dinner is ready by the time you come out, but König is gone; your bowl grows cold on the counter. You take it with you as you search for König. You find him on the back steps, elbows resting on his knees. You sit beside him; neither of you speaks as you eat, fork scraping the bottom of the bowl.
You don't speak until you're done. The bowl seems a thousand pounds as you set it down beside you, the ceramic clinking against the stone.
König speaks first, his voice heavy in the warm air.
"Are you ready?"
"Ready?"
"To go home? To leave me here?"
You touch his elbow, and he stiffens.
"Why would I leave you here, König?"
"I am not dumb, Taube. I can see how you act today."
You scrape your bare foot against the step, trying to find the right way to say it.
"I have one bad day, and you think I am going to ask you to take me home?"
"Then what?"
You pull your hand away from him and press your palms between your thighs. Wind blows your hair across your face - König reaches over to tuck it behind your ears.
"What do you do for a living?"
König's shoulders slump down - he turns his eyes away from you, and you realize this was not a question he ever wanted to answer.
"Why does it matter?"
"It matters because I don't know anything about you. I'm all alone up here with you, and I don't even know where you disappear to. I saw- a few months back, I saw the truck pick you up in the middle of the night, and today, two women were talking about you. About what you do. And I-", you falter, nails digging into your thigh where König can't see.
König doesn't speak - the minutes stretch out between the two of you before he finally speaks with a heavy sigh.
"I am in the Special Forces. I cannot say anything more than that, Taube. Please do not ask."
"And the mask?"
"Why does that matter?"
"It matters because - the women -"
"They said I am a monster, ja? That is what this entire conversation is about."
You don't speak - you don't want to confirm it. You don't want to confirm what he's saying, but your silence is enough.
"If you think I am a monster Taube, I will take you home myself."
"König no-"
"I will be going out tonight. I will be home in the morning; don't worry about me."
He leaves you on the back steps, hands still stuck between your thighs. Through the house, you hear the front door slam.
That night, you dream of your grandfather again - screaming at you about the wolves. The danger. When you wake up, sweat sticking the sheets to your bare skin, you're babbling in Polish, reaching out towards König, but finding empty space.
You wonder, wildly in your sleep stupor, if König was the monster your grandfather was trying to warn you about. But as your heartbeat slows, the thought disappears. Your room is bright with moonlight; slipping out of bed, you wrap your quilt around your body. Your mouth tastes like cotton and blood. It's dark in the hallway - dark enough that you have to trail your fingers down the wall to keep from tripping.
The sigh of König curled up on the couch stops you short. He's curled up pathetically small, nearly half off with his feet resting on the floor - the clinical smell of alcohol hits your nose. The carpet muffles your steps as you cross the room towards him; the wink of glass catches your eye. You try to make out the label in the dark - the circular bottle nearly empty, but you can't read the words. Your nose wrinkles as you sniff the bottle - it's strong and sweet.
König snores lightly as you set the bottle down, and lower yourself to your knees beside him. You can't imagine how much he had to drink to get drunk; you don't even know how late he's been out. His mask flutters when he breathes out. Your fingers trace his bicep, across his chest - he doesn't stir. You know you should wake him, but you don't.
Instead, your fingers snake up to his mask and you start to slide it up, freezing when his breathing hitches. Your fingers shake as you pull it up, pushing past his chin until his face is lit up in the moonlight.
You realize that you'd never imagined what he looked like - and if you did you wouldn't have been close. His hair is cropped close and so blonde it's nearly white. His nose is crooked - it must have been broken at least twice. The scar you felt on his lips flattens out towards his ear - the flesh a stark contrast to the skin around it.
You have no idea where the monster rumors have come from - you don't think you've ever seen someone more beautiful.
He shifts, and all at once, you're awash in shame. You shouldn't have done that; you've invaded his privacy. You let the mask fall down to its original position, and pull away.
Faster than you would have ever thought he could move, König has you on your back; it doesn't seem to take a second before he's flipped you onto the couch, one of his hands wrapped around your wrist and the other pressing down painfully on your chest.
"I'm sorry König; I'm so sorry. Please."
His grip on your wrist tightens painfully; you gasp and try to pull away, but he doesn't let you go.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm so sorry König. I don't know what came over me - please - I'm sorry."
You can smell the sweet alcohol on his breath when he leans forward, his face inches from yours.
"I have killed men for less than that, Taube."
You shiver, hardly recognizing the man in front of you. All at once, you see a hint at the man the two women were talking about in the cafe.
"Please König - I just - I am so sorry. Please."
You don't realize you're crying until König reaches up to brush the tears off of your cheek. He drops your wrist gently.
"Did you enjoy looking at the das schreckliche Biest. At the horrible monster." He spits his words out as if they burn him; as if he's trying to unload them off onto you. "Are you going to go screaming to the village about how you've seen my face - how they need to be here with pitchforks?"
In all the months you've been here, you've never heard him speak with such vitriol, but he still doesn't raise his voice at you.
"König no; you're-"
"You don't need to say it, Taube."
"Say what?"
"That I am hideous."
He says it like it's a fact - like it's the only truth he's ever known. And you realize it probably is. Your hands tangle in the front of his shirt; he doesn't fight you as you pull yourself closer to him, but he keeps his hands between the two of you - ready to make distance at any possible moment.
He doesn't fight you as you lift his mask up - but he keeps his eyes shut as the mask falls to the side. He flinches when your fingertips trace his jawline, the muscle jumping beneath your fingertips.
"Please, Taube."
He's pleading; you know that, but for what you can't say.
"Please what, König?"
"I-," his eyes are still clenched shut, and his breathing is ragged. "I need you to stop."
"If that's what you really want König."
His head follows your hand as you pull it away; his hand catches yours and presses it against his cheek. His stubble is prickly beneath your fingers.
"I - I don't know what I want."
You trace your fingers across his lips.
"Look at me König." He doesn't; you repeat yourself and this time, he obliges.
You take him in, your hand warm beneath his palm. When you shift, he does too until he's kneeling between your knees. He shivers beneath your palms - his eyes never leave yours.
"Come to bed with me, Köni. Please."
"Taube, I can't. I-"
"Please."
He doesn't speak as he stands, pulling you up with him. He lets you lead him back to his bedroom, the darkness enveloping the both of you as the door swings shut.
#könig mw2#konig x reader#könig x reader#konig#könig#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod modern warfare
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Tommy Warnecki x Fem! Reader
Synopsis: (College AU) Friends to Lovers, Sfw, Fluff, Silly Banter, Denial of Feelings, Super Awkward and Corny.
[This is a long one!!]
｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
Today was going by agonizingly slow. It almost felt as if the class would never end, but you don't lose hope. From across the classroom, your eyes meet your friend Tommy, who is making the same goofy face at you. He knew it would cheer you up!
Oh, Tommy Warnecki.. That boy has been your best friend since grade school. The two of you were hardly ever seen apart; including when you would get detention together. Some would call your relationship a match made in heaven..
You cared about him deeply. Most even thought you two were a couple, but you shut down the idea. Wouldn't it be strange for best friends to be lovers?
Also, he was nothing but a silly troublemaker who also happened to be pretty handsome. You can recall his words, "I may act stupid but I sure don't look stupid!" It makes you laugh audibly.
This causes your teacher's attention, "Something funny about my lecture Miss L/n?". You glance at Tommy, your eyes telepathically saying 'A little help?' He automatically gets the gist.
"I wouldn't say funny.. it's more or less torture!" Tommy chuckles, this earns a few snickers from the class as well.
"The absolute disrespect!" She gasps as she turns to continue writing on the chalkboard. You look over to Tommy; he gives you a cheeky smile and a wink, such a troublemaker..
"You owe me! I saved your butt back there." Tommy places an arm around your neck as you exit the class. All you notice is a warm rush flood across your cheeks, "Oh yeah? You're lucky she didn't give you extra homework."
A few minutes pass and the bell dings for to finally be set free. You start packing your notebooks into your pack, not paying any mind to the childish giggling behind you. The laughter makes you turn your head; to find Tommy waiting for you. As you finish organizing your pack, you make your way down to him.
Tommy then unconsciously pulls you closer to his side, "Well at least I have you to help me if that ever happens." He says playfully. The tone in his voice makes you look up to him, and you happen to admire the dimple in his cheek when he smiles.
He catches you staring, "Something other than handsome on my face?" He asks with a head tilt. You quickly regain your thoughts and roll your eyes, "Yeah, it's called stupid". He only dramatically gasps as the two of you walk off to your next class.
╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗
You get home and place your stuff down by your desk, then walking over and falling against your soft bed..
'What was that today?' The thought rings through your head.. You never, not ever caught yourself staring at Tommy like you did earlier. So where did that even come from? You've only ever had one boy crush but that was back in high school, never to have one since.. Right?
You sit up and actually take that into consideration. Are you actually falling for Tommy? No way! He probably thinks of you as a little sister..
Then it clicks.. the thought of him seeing you as a sister bothers you.. Why should it? He's your best friend and nothing more! You had to prove it to yourself; you just had to!
Looking over to your phone you dial Tommy's number, feeling your heart echo in your chest as you press each button. It starts ringing..
"Hello beautiful!" Tommy's voice picks up on the other line, making you jump. "Oh, h-hey Tommy.. I had a question?" You normally never fumble on your words when speaking to him..
"Did you wanna meet up at Daystorm Park tonight? I can bring snacks and we can chat!" You say softly, "Of course, sounds fun! Want to meet up and walk there?" He almost sounds impatient to do so. Hearing him sound so excited to see you causes a warm blush spread across your cheeks.
"Would you?" You ask without thinking, "What kind of question is that? How could I have a pretty girl like you walking alone this late?" His words nearly make you scream into your pillow, "You idiot! Come over here and walk with me!" You say as you slam down the phone. This would be long night..
╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗
The two of you awkwardly make it to Daystorm Park. No words had been spoken since you hung up the call.. you begged for him to break the silence with a witty joke or a bad pun, yet he said nothing. Did you do something wrong?
He sits down on a nearby bench, you follow quickly placing yourself closer than normal. You could feel the tension in the air, thick as molasses.. But why? The two of you are friends, you shouldn't be acting this weird..
"Tommy?" You say barely above a whisper, still he jumps slightly. He looks over to you, "Uh, yeah!?" Your hand points to the snacks in your lap and he eagerly takes one.
He starts eating like there isn't an elephant in the room.. "So.." he begins as he takes another bite.
Your wide eyes look up and meet his, "I've been meaning to say this for a while.. So I hope this doesn't hurt what we have.."
Your heart drops.. What? This is not how you expected things to go.. He was going to stop being friends with you. Your feelings must have been totally obvious!
"It's gonna be hard to say but it has to be said!" He says seriously, or so he tries. You wait for him to say the words you're dreading to hear..
"I'm totally smitten with you!" He blurts out, making your jaw drop. "You're what?"
"You're the prettiest girl I ever seen so of course I dig you! Forget being my friend, I want you to be my girlfriend!" He takes your hand in his and holds it tightly.
"Tommy are you serious!" You say angrily. His expression changes to one of a hurt puppy, "Yes, why?!"
"Unbelievable.. You confessed before I could.." The blush on your cheeks deepens, "I'm gonna have an idiot boyfriend.."
Tommy's face brightens immediately, and he nearly tackles you on the bench. "We're totally gonna be the power couple of town!"
All you can do is laugh as he helps you sit up, and once you've stopped he takes your hand again.
"Could I kiss you?" He asks, those chocolate eyes staring into you. "Yes you idiot!"
He leans in, not awkwardly, but slowly. His hand moving under your chin and guiding your lips to his. When they meet all you can do is close your eyes and savor it. The feelings that had been bottled up from the past 10 years all were released tonight.
The two of you break away, and chuckle. "How about we already have our first date?" Tommy says standing up and taking you with him. "Sounds perfect.." you whisper, leaning against his shoulder as you walk down the sidewalk.
The two of you really were a match made in heaven..
This was a looong one.. Hope you enjoyed! ~ Juicebox♡
#Tommy Warnecki#Tommy Warnecki x Reader#keanuverse#chubby reader#x reader#Flying/Dream to Believe#keanu reeves
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A Dragon Prince
Tags: None! It’s all fluffy sweetness as Cyhon tries to court his human princess
Upon seeing Princess Eima for the first time while attending a wild hunt, Prince Cyhon of dragonkind, crown prince to the Zetran throne, was astonished beyond belief. The princess carried herself with a stately presence born of years of practice, drifting in and out of conversation like a beautiful specter in a green day gown. Her smiles were light and easy, her laugh carried over the crowd and drew his ear like a songbird. He vowed from that day on to make her his.
The first step in a proper courting ritual is to prove his wealth. So he sends a convoy. Crates and crates of individually picked jewelry, yards of cloth brocades, and the rarest of spices from his homeland; with it he sends a letter, speaking of his country's alliances, imports and exports, everything as if to say, Look at how I can provide for you, my dear.
She sends back a convoy of her own, and a letter lamenting on the generosity of her neighbors, assuring their trade agreements are as strong as ever.
Prince Cyhon tries not to sulk, as that would be very unprince-like behavior. But he does simmer, just a little.
He needs to show her that he's serious about this, about her. So he hunts the wildest game in his land, nearly losing his life in the process. But it's worth it to see the wide-eyed look on her face when he kicks down her door, kill slung over one broad shoulder.
"Witness my strength and judge my character!" He shouts, hands hovering over the great beast and triumphant smile on his face.
She is silent for a moment, the two of them sharing a long look that Cyhon desperately wants to read more into, before she smiles demurely and orders the beast be prepared for their guests as part of a celebration. She invites her overly generous neighbors, and prepares a small festival in their honor.
"You should just talk to her," his sister says, bumping their shoulders together.
The festivities are in full swing, with food and alcohol freely flowing. It's a chance to relax, unwind after a maddening hunt.
Cyhon looks across the room to where the princess sits on her dias, overlooking the festivities. She catches his eye and raises a small hand in greeting, the sleeve of her long formal robe falling away to reveal a slender arm. He returns the gesture, then hastily turns back towards to refreshments table and attempts to look busy. Too often he'd imagined pressing a kiss to that arm, but he's been too busy being an absolute coward to do much about it.
"What would I say?" he asks, peering at his sister who has the slyest grin on her angled face.
It's not like him to be so shy, so awkward. But he's never courted anyone before, this is uncharted territory. He's the prince of dragons, for gods' sake, he shouldn't be afraid of a lone human, no matter how beautiful she is. He shouldn't be sulking by the refreshments table, yet here he is.
Sending a letter would be the most straight-forward way to confess, but the moment he tries to pen his feelings to paper, words abandon him like dust on the wind. And a letter alone, it rings of unoriginality, an informal method too easily intercepted and misinterpreted.
No, he needs to do this the right way. Lady Eima deserves the very best.
"Dunno," his sister says around a mouthful of food. Graceless. "But you'd better figure it out fast," she cryptically says before darting off. Cyhon barely has a chance to ask after her before the soft sound of a throat clearing freezes him to the spot.
"Your majesty," Cyhon whirls around, voice cracking. "What an honor." He's not a complete barbarian and manages to offer her a short bow.
She waves him off, her laugh sounding like the peal of bells. "Oh please, none of that, you are a guest."
She's small, the top of her head barely coming up to his shoulders, but she carries herself with all the airs of a future queen. She demands respect, drawing the attention of the entire room wherever she goes. She cuts an intimidating figure, half-plate armor over a brocade gown, longsword resting at her hip. The metal is ornate, etched with the crest and flowering designs of her kingdom in gold, the ensemble more decorative than functional.
Cyhon clears his throat again, remembering he is in the presence of the princess. "How may I help my lady?"
She picks a berry off a large serving tray, holding it between manicured nails before popping it into her mouth. "I simply wanted to thank you for your shipments these past few weeks." She plucks another berry and gives him a pointed look, dark eyes glittering. "I'd love to discuss trade with you in further detail if it's no trouble."
Cyhon tries not to deflate. "It's no trouble at all."
Eima opens her mouth to say something else, but is cut off by a loud crash of plates and a round of laughter.
"Come, let us talk somewhere more private," she says, hand outstretched. Cyhon offers her an arm and she leads him away from the table, across the hall and into the corridor. He's acutely aware of her arm wrapped around his, the small band of contact sending his heart racing.
Just before turning the corner, Cyhon sees his sister across the room looking directly at him, smiling wide and making obscene gestures with her hands. Cyhon returns the gesture over his shoulder, taking care the princess doesn't notice.
"Tell me of your trades," Eima prompts the moment they step outside.
Cyhon recites his country's trades through memorization alone. He really should be trying to convince the good princess of the virtues and benefits of such things, but his heart isn't in it. Truthfully, he'd rather be talking about anything else. He wants to ask about her day, how she enjoys the spring weather, if she'd be receptive to his courtship.
Eima leads them outside to the gardens, a sprawling maze of flora containing specimens from all the Six Realms. They pass the roses of the Elven Highlands arranged in multicolored spirals, the fruit trees of the Orcish Forests just starting to bloom, the tabaxi herbs trimmed into geometric designs. And all around, in between the trees and herbs and fruit, rest every type of flower found in the Human realm. They come in every shape and color, pale against the moonlight but no less striking in appearance.
The scent of the greenery is nearly overwhelming to Cyhon's sensitive nose, and he's thankful when Eima steers them into a stone footpath under a series of willow trees.
It's much quieter out here, Cyhon thinks. Almost romantic, were they not talking business.
Eima disengages her arm from Cyhon's and he misses the contact immediately. She takes a seat on a low stone bench and then looks up at him as if to say, Well? Sit down.
Cyhon takes his seat next to her, trying to remain respectful and maintain distance between them, but his size makes it impossible, and his leg presses into hers. Embarrassed at such contact, he looks down at his hands on his lap.
He's a prince damn it, he needs to be acting like one. But being in Eima's presence is like basking in the sun. He's warmed by it, heated almost, and can only stare in awe as she shines.
Eima tucks a strand of rich chestnut hair behind one ear and peers up at him. "I admit I pulled you away for multiple reasons," she says.
He frowns, confused. "And what reasons are those, my lady?"
Cyhon turns his head to her, breath held in his throat. Eima is impossibly close, he can see the shadows cast by her eyelashes on her porcelain cheek.
"I have done some reading," she says with a smile. "On dragon courting rituals."
Cyhon's blood turns to ice. "Oh," is all he can say.
Eima searches his face for a moment before breaking into laughter. "Please sir, please don't look so afraid! I'm oh so flattered."
Cyhon tries not to sound disappointed. "But not receptive?"
Eima's cute smile turns impish. "Now, I didn't say that."
His heart flutters in his chest, hopeful.
"I must confess," she continues. "I was rather confused at first. We have so little to offer compared to your vast resources."
"That's not true!" He says, scooping her hands up in his. "Your perfumes are the best in the Realms, and your metalwork goes unmatched!"
She gives him a look of delighted confusion. "Hardly comparable to textiles and food stores."
Cyhon rolls his eyes, feeling relaxed for the first time all night. "Spices and cloth, very valuable."
Eima laughs. "If you wish to remain warm in the winter, I'd say so."
Hit with a sudden boldness, Cyhon gathers her hands against his chest. "I'll keep you warm during the winter, my lady. And all the year through. Allow me the courtesy of providing for you."
She opens her mouth as if to respond, then closes it again. She glances down at their hands, still joined and gathered against his broad chest, and looks back up to meet his gaze. A small smile plays at her lips as she says, "I'd like that very much."
And then she kisses him, short and sweet under the light of the moon, but no less magical.
#my writing#monster boyfriend#dragon boyfriend#exophilia writing#terato writing#i return bearing gifts#something light and cute while i work on botanists guide#i want to continue this but i also wanted to post something after being away so long#so we'll see how its received and go from there#also i know i'm off my normal sunday schedule#consider this a late post for last sunday#Fantasci
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HLVRFF: Chapter 8
That can’t be right.
There’s gotta be some kind of mistake, right?
That’s what Gordon would like to think, but the more he looks at the picture, the more obvious it is that there is no mistake here. This is a drawing he did as a child. Of him, standing by a mud puddle, with a little monster kid surrounded by floating orbs of colour.
A little monster kid who is very clearly Benry.
‘playin’ in the mud all the time. great friend,’ Benry had said to him, back on Xen. Gordon didn’t believe him, yelled that Benry was just making shit up to mess with him.
It’s only now that Gordon’s realizing the brief hurt expression on Benry’s face at his words was genuine, and not just something he had imagined.
Setting his phone down on his night stand, Gordon lets himself fall back onto his bed. He stares up at the ceiling for a moment, before slapping his borrowed hands over his face and groaning into them. This… is a lot to process. And something he should probably talk to Benry about.
He glances at the clock. It reads 12:23. He’ll have to save the talking for in the morning. For now, Gordon decides that he should try and get some sleep himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He giggles to himself as he carefully pokes around the woods, in the middle of playing a game with his best friend. It’s kind of like 'Marco Polo,’ only they’re not in a pool and not saying 'Marco' and 'Polo.'
Instead, they’re singing.
“Ahhhh~!” he calls out. His singing isn’t nearly as pretty as his friend’s, but that’s okay. He listens closely for their response, waiting for that pretty high note.
"aaaaaaaaa,” rings out clear as a bell. Off to the right! Giggling, he runs off through the trees, towards the source of the pretty sound.
After running for a bit, he’s about to stop and call again to make sure he’s heading the right way, when he catches sight of something in the air- little floating balls of blue light. However, his attention is drawn from the lights when another high-pitched tone rings through the air. And then another. And another. And another, still.
Something is wrong.
He backs up, legs sloshing through the knee-deep water. The cacophony of song and rattling bones is getting too loud to bear. He looks around frantically.
Where is he? Where is he!?
A deep rumbling fills the chamber, small waves of red crashing against him as the monstrous figure rises from the depths. A dozen piercing eyes stare down at him, fang-filled maw twisted into a snarl. Purple and red seeps between its teeth, dripping with malice and staining the torn security uniform. Fear shoots through him at the sight, down to his very bones.
He raises the devil gun defensively, but is much too slow. The skeletons wrap him up with their song, allowing their master a clear shot.
The last thing he sees is a single large orb of blinding energy, before all his senses are overwhelmed with pain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Benry jolts awake with a gasp. He sits up, panting, brow wet with sweat as his eyes scan the blurry room for the danger. It takes a bit for his brain to catch up and realize that he’s just in his bedroom, safe. That was just a nightmare.
…One of Gordon’s nightmares.
When Benry was in Gordon’s head during his nightmare the night of the switch, he could feel a lot of the human’s emotions secondhand. That was already pretty bad. But this? Feeling them all firsthand? Seeing it all directly from his perspective?
Benry… feels really, really bad.
He did that. He fucked Gordon’s head up so much that he still gets nightmares about all that went down, long after the fact.
…Shit, Benry being here with him is probably just a constant reminder of that stuff, too, isn’t it?
Benry looks down at his borrowed hands. His eyes drift to the scar on Gordon’s right arm, the lighter tissue still visible even with his blurred vision. He's seen the way Gordon looks at this scar every now and then.
He wonders if Gordon looks at him like that sometimes, too.
Benry flops back down onto his mattress, head hitting the pillow with a fwump. It’s too early to be thinking about this shit. He needs to go back to sleep. He’ll… think about it in the morning. When his head is clearer. Yeah, that’ll work.
When morning does come, however, Benry’s head isn’t any clearer. Still muddled up with too many feelings and thoughts he’s not sure how to get out. And Gordon’s not helping with things, either- he keeps trying to start up a conversation with him, but he just brushes Gordon off. He’s not sure what's got Gordon so chatty this morning, but he’s just not in the mood for it. Head too full, can’t think good. Eventually, Benry decides to just hide away in his room with the door closed, in hopes that Gordon will just give up. It seems to work.
Doesn’t do anything for his tangled-up thoughts and feelings, though.
Uhhhhhg, this blows SUCH chunks. Normally, he’d just sing out all his thoughts and feelings, getting them out in the form of Sweet Voice. But stuck in Gordon’s Voiceless body, the emotions are just all… bottled up in there. His emotional baggage is way over packed and the zippers are all stuck. Buh. How the fuck do humans deal with this?
Hmmm… Going for a walk is something humans do while trying to sort their shit, right? Something about the fresh outside air making thinking easier. Maybe he should do that.
…Of course, Gordon probably won’t let him leave the house alone right now, even if alone is what he really needs to be. He’ll have to be sneaky.
And so, Benry slips on some shoes, and out his bedroom window, taking care to do it all as quietly as possible. It’s not long before he’s off the property and heading towards town, with a whole lot of thinking to do.
------------------------------
The plan for today was to have a nice heart-to-heart with Benry, explain that he really honestly forgot that he and and the entity were apparently friends as kids, and maybe apologize for some of the stuff he said when Benry first tried to tell him about it.
Unfortunately, that plan turned out to be a complete flop, as every time Gordon tried to start talking with Benry, he just kept brushing him off or flat-out ignored him. Now, Benry’s holed up in his room, while Gordon’s flopped on the couch in defeat.
What’s Benry’s problem? Something must be bugging him- he’s usually not this standoffish. He hasn’t even been engaging in their usual banter, either.
Maybe Gordon should call Tommy. Benry’d probably be more open to talking to him. Gordon could tell Tommy about his big ‘childhood friends' revelation too, while he’s at it.
Grabbing his phone, he brings up Tommy in his contacts, taps the call button, and lays back down as it rings.
“Hello!” Tommy answers the call cheerily.
“Hey, Tommy. Still no word from your dad?” Gordon asks.
“No, sorry, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy responds with a little less cheer.
Gordon sighs. “Don’t sweat it, man. Look, I actually called to ask you if you could maybe talk to Benry sometime here? He’s been real avoidant all morning like something’s bothering him. You’re a lot better at talking with him, so I figured I’d ask.”
“Oh? What do- what do you think might be bothering him?” Tommy asks.
“Dunno,” Gordon says, “he was being weirdly quiet yesterday, too, but wouldn’t tell me why when I asked. And I’ve also been trying to talk to him about something all day, with no luck.
“Speaking of the thing I want to talk to him about… Do you remember, when we were in Xen, and he claimed me and him used to be best friends? I didn’t believe him then… but just last night, my mom sent me a photo of a drawing I did as a kid. It was of me next to a monster kid that was… very obviously Benry.”
Tommy just makes a little hum of acknowledgement.
Not exactly the reaction Gordon was expecting.
“Uh…” Gordon starts. “You don’t… sound real surprised to hear this.”
“I already knew you two were- were friends as children, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy states. “Benry used to talk a lot about how much he missed you when we first met.”
“Oh,” Gordon says dumbly. “Hold on, if you knew he was telling the truth about the friends thing, then why didn’t you ever correct me?”
“'Cause I knew how much you, uh, how much you disliked Benry would make you not wanna believe me, either,” Tommy answers honestly.
“I- …Yeah, okay, fair…” Boy does he feel sheepish. Gordon shakes his head at himself before speaking again. “But, you know, one thing I don’t get is, we were friends like, two whole DECADES ago, and not even for that long I don’t think? Why'd he get so hung up on that?”
“You were his very first friend, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy begins to explain. “And- and also his only one, until I met him about nine years after he… y’know… Being alone for- for such a long time, it’s no wonder he clung on to the memories of you.”
Gordon’s borrowed brow furrows a bit. “After he what? What happened to him nine years before you guys met?”
There’s a beat of silence before Tommy answers. “…Has Benry- did he never tell you? He was a- a research specimen at Black Mesa, for most of his life. They took him there when he- when he was just barely five. It was only last year that- that they’d put him on the security staff, to give him more space to roam as, uh, as a reward for ‘good behavior’…”
Oh.
Oh, holy shit. That… kind of explains a whole lot. Like that fucked up vivisection dream, for one. It must’ve been a memory of Benry’s that he was seeing thanks to being in his body. However the hell that works.
This explains Benry’s request for Gordon to not be ‘all scientist-y' at him, too. And why he reacts so badly to being stuck in a room or other small space… And if he’d been stuck in Black Mesa as a lab rat since he was just a tiny kid, that’d also explain why his social skills are so lacking... And why most of his knowledge of the world seems to have come from video games and movies…
And… it might even explain why Benry killed those guards and scientists he did back in Black Mesa. Being humane with their living specimens didn’t seem like a top priority, going by how they felt the need to block out Bubby's memories of Sector E's bio research labs, and from what Gordon saw when they all went through said labs during their escape. The way some of those poor crabs and peeper puppies still in the cages looked…
Gordon’s not sure why it never occurred to him sooner. All those obvious-in-hindsight signs, and plus, why else would something like Benry even be at Black Mesa in the first place?
“I… am the most oblivious motherfucker,” Gordon says, feeling like an idiot.
“Yeah you- you kind of are, sometimes,” Tommy agrees, and thankfully makes no further comment.
“You’d think he’d have told me about something as important as that after living with me for four months…”
“Maybe… maybe he didn’t want to ma- make you feel bad for him?” Tommy offers.
Gordon hums in response. “Yeah, maybe.” That does make some sense. He could see Benry as the type to not want anybody’s pity. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Man… we ALL got pretty fucked up by Black Mesa, huh?” Gordon muses. Tommy makes a sound of agreement.
One more reason to be glad that place got blown the fuck up, Gordon thinks, and shakes his head. “Well, anyway, try seeing if you can find out what’s eating Benry, will ya?” he then asks, changing the subject back to why he called in the first place.
“Yeah. I’ll hang up here and give him a call right now,” says Tommy. “Talk to you later, Mr. Freeman!”
“Later, Tommy.”
Not long after Gordon hangs up, he hears Benry’s own phone ring- some happy hardcore song he set as his ringtone for Tommy.
And it keeps on ringing.
Which is a little weird, as Benry pretty much always answers Tommy’s calls. Maybe he’s asleep? Gordon decides to go sneak a peek into the entity’s room to see, and tell Tommy to try calling him later if he is.
When he tries to open the door, he finds it’s locked. Weird, Benry doesn’t usually lock room doors… Undeterred, Gordon decides to take advantage of Benry’s ‘no-clip’ power, and wills himself through the wooden door. When he pokes his head through enough to see the bed… he sees that there’s no Benry on it. He phases the rest of the way through and scans the room, only to find it equally Benry-less.
He also sees that the window is open. His borrowed guts writhe anxiously at the sight.
Grabbing Benry’s still ringing phone, he mashes the answer button and says before Tommy can even get a word in, “Benry’s gone.”
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em!! 💚💚💚 i didn’t see it on the list, but may i request the siken line “sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them”?
(siken ask game)
jess!!! absolutely! anything for you!
21. sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.
Regulus can’t remember the last time someone hugged him. Sometimes, one of his friends will sling an arm around him, a half-touch, the kind that only lasts for a second. Sometimes, one of his professors will clap him on the shoulder, if he’s done a good job. Sometimes, he’ll brush up against another student in the hallway and trip into them. It’s been so long he’s afraid he might have forgotten how it feels to be held.
He watches Sirius all the time. Sirius gets hugs. Sirius laughs loud and pulls people in. Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew are all victims to his giant squid tendencies, but none of them seem to mind, least of all Lupin. Regulus wonders if Sirius notices just how much Lupin doesn’t mind.
Regulus only notices Sirius, so he doesn’t see Potter watching him back. He misses the little furrow that appears between Potter’s eyebrows when he catches Regulus looking.
He’s rushing to Transfiguration when Potter bumps into him. It startles Regulus, who hadn’t been paying any attention. He nearly falls over, but Potter catches him by the shoulders, his hands tight and steadying.
“Best watch where you’re going, Reg,” Potter says. He doesn’t let go.
“It’s Regulus,” Regulus grumbles. Stupid Potter with his stupid messy hair and his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid warm hands.
Potter just smiles, wide and bright. “Sorry, what was that?” He’s still holding onto Regulus’ shoulders. Regulus can feel people turning to look at them as they pass in the hallway.
“I have to go to class,” says Regulus, but he doesn’t move. He can’t. His feet don’t seem to be working. “I’m going to be late.”
Laughing, Potter squeezes Regulus’ shoulders and then lets go, giving him a little pat. “Of course, Reg.”
Regulus huffs and hurries off to class, hoping McGonagall is in a forgiving mood today. There’s no way he’s going to make it before the bell.
He tells himself that Potter isn’t the reason he seeks his brother out, nor the reason that he apologizes, nor the reason that he holds his arms out, stiff, awkward, hoping Sirius will see what he wants. Sirius does.
“Come with me, Reggie,” he whispers, holding Regulus so tight he thinks he might snap. “Come with me.”
Regulus considers it. When Sirius grins at him across the Great Hall at breakfast, he thinks about what’s left at his parents’ house. When Peter Pettigrew saves him a seat on the grass outside and hands him a muffin, he remembers silent dinners under Walburga’s watchful gaze. When Remus Lupin hands him a Muggle novel with a quiet smile and a soft I think you’ll like this one, he wishes he could forget everything he’s ever heard his father say about purity.
And when James Potter grabs him after a Quidditch match, congratulating him with a warm embrace and an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek, he makes up his mind. There’s nothing left for him at home. It’s all on the other side.
#this made me think of other side in a voldemort sense#so that is what we got!#jegulus#ask game#jess tag#these really are so fun#i have a few more but i'm flying home today!#sorry to the peter haters out there but#i like to keep him in stuff#a betrayal only hurts if you actually loved the person :) :(#em writes
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"Where are those so called 'Gods' when you need them...?"
//: TW Gore, Body Horror, Blood, Violence Mentioned/Implied SA - over all awful things.
Someone asked, here it is - how Mar got the hole in her face. Bonus music to go with it (spoiler the words she's saying are from the song~ The female singer of Heilung, Maria, is Mar's 'voice claim').
Flames flickered around her, swaths of inferno crackling and licking at the trees. Sap seeping from the eyes carved in the bark like smoking tears, ash and smoke, the creaking of weak trunks and branches, their 'voices' adding themselves to the rotting figure's throaty chant...
"Bræðr munu berjask ok at bönum verðask, munu systrungar sifjum spitla," bells of brass and chimes of bone sang in time and tune with Mardoll's movements, punctuating each syllable as it hazed from the nose of her helm.
The Nightmarish visage, the proto-iteration of The Ram sold in the City, was carved of Ahamkara bone by the Warlock Arlo and gifted to the Risen post Six Fronts. Once perfect and whole it now sported a broken horn, it's blackened surface scarred, charred, carved and adorned with small charms and trinkets.
Fractured Ghost Cores whirred in it's sockets, the light of the fires shimmering in the cracks of their 'eyes'. Were they still alive....?
"Answer me! Where are your dead gods now?," the speaker, an Exo, paced the perimeter of the clearing. His face obscured by his helm, his cloak smoking as stray embers alighted on the fabric.
The Guardian's he brought with him were seeming to struggle to keep their footing and their wits in the face of the creature they harried.
He was met with that infernal chanting, the continued song, the same dead words and he was growing impatient.
Barking a command the group's Titan made to grab Mardoll in a bear hug from behind.
Hunching, curling slightly into herself and flexing her back she bristled her matted fur cloak, bracing hidden, forged and barbed iron spikes set amongst the hairs.
When the man grabbed hold and squeezed Mardoll lost a small amount of breath and momentum with her chanting, falling back into her cadence once the large Guardian cast her aside to slap and pull at a handful of the spines that found purchase in the flexible gaps in his armour.
Growling, pacing back the way he'd just gone, Outlaw - the Exo calling the shots, leveled his hand cannon and took the shot. Putting a hollow point round through the Titan's head, dropping him like a sack of sand from roughly thirty feet away.
"Useless cunt....," Outlaw hissed, pointing his gun and menacing the others to get on with it.
Turning their attention back to Mardoll they thought to attempt a united front, all four rushing the smaller woman. She'd already taken some damage in the hours long stand off, coupled with the constant chanting and sweltering heat of the Solar ignited blaze around them the Risen had to be getting tired, right?
"Gal anda viðr, gangla viðr, riðanda viðr, viðr rinnanda, viðr sitjanda, viðr signianda, viðr faranda, viðr fluganda, skal alta fyrna ok um döya," the words repeated in quick succession, rolling off an unseen tongue as desperation crept into the quartet pressing the charge.
Blades were deflected in flashes, blows exchanged in kind, a knife was lost to Mardoll's upper back - an iron thorn taking it's place in it's wielder's hand.
Even that did little to slow the assailants and the assailed.
A smile twisted Outlaw's face plates, catching sight of blood dripping from the hollow nose of The Ram, "See!? The Bitch Bleeds! She's not a god or phantom of the forest! Keep pressing her!"
'Will it work?' the voice whispered in the Exo's mind, pulling a sneer behind the visor of his helm. His Ghost, nearly shattered by the woman he now tried to kill, shuttered in Outlaw's eye socket.
It was afraid, like it was those centuries ago when Outlaw - under a different name- lost his status as a Warlord to Mardoll. All because he killed some dirt child he orphaned and she so happened to pick up....
"...It will...if not, we keep trying until it's enough...", his tone softened, his response quiet, but the rage still seethed in the syllables.
One by one the Guardian's fell but not with out dealing a decent amount of damage to the Ram headed creature...
Watching her stagger a step, swaying to keep her balance, Outlaw made his move. Marching with a purpose across the torn ground, stepping over the dead and grabbing Mardoll by the front of her armour, giving her a hard shake.
"Rumor has it, some Stormcaller blinded you... That why you keep these sad fucks in your head? Hmm?," another hard shake and he let her go, watching an unsteady step he cocked back and punched her. HIs fist connecting with the right side of her helm.
Outlaw laughed as she lurched, huffing impressed that she kept her feet under her, "What, you done singing? Or is this," grabbing her again he pressed his thumb into a bullet hole in her chest, just below her left breast, "Taking the piss out of you...?"
"Sér hon upp koma öðru sinni," airy and snarled, Mar responded, taking a swing of her own at Outlaw's head. Her hand connected, he reacted by stepping back, but also forcing his thumb deeper, now passed the first knuckle...
"That, almost, hurt...But I bet this," hooking his thumb in the wound he pulled, jerking her closer, "hurts more..."
The man almost purred, his forehead now pressed to her own, the Ghost Cores in Mar's helm shuddering before focusing on the Ghost in Outlaw's face, as if they could see it through the Exo's helm.
"It's a shame really, every thing that happened...that kid? Wasn't worth it... you should have just taken me up on my offer...we could have been great you know... Stronger than any other Lord's in the area...", his timbre changed, becoming low and husky as he lamented softly, "...you were hot back then, still are, all thing's considered... but rather than lay with your own you followed that god damned Ranger and his god damn friends..."
"....Those fuckers were using you, riding your abilities and power....", he cursed his laps, the fact he closed his eyes a moment. She reared back and head butt him, the visor of his helm cracking with the impact.
"Still a sore fucking thing isn't it?! You failed them and they fucking used your ass! Yet you still fucking mourn them! Their dead! Fucking Gone!," grabbing Mar by the throat he hauled her off the ground, drawing his serrated blade he plunged it to the hilt into her abdomen, "That little bastard is dead and you know what!? This is the same blade that slit his little pig throat!"
Drawing the blade back Outlaw struck again, stabbing just below the first strike, "I watched your Ranger's eat shit, sat and smiled while the tall one got his fucking head blown off....really got me going," twisting the blade slowly he drew it out, then back in again, "wished I could have had you broken and beneath me, to fuck you while you cried and begged to go to them...."
He groaned, stabbing her once more, "get's me hard thinking about it....", sighing he threw her to the ground, wiping his knife across his chest as he stepped towards her, kicking Mar to her back and dropping his boot to her wounds with a sigh, "...I might be made to reconsider this you know...."
Crouching over her, settling himself on her hips, he let his free hand press up the front of her armour, feeling the make of it and her curves beneath it while he sheathed his knife, "It'd truly be a waste to kill you...you really are a rare creature... unique Light, strange tattoos...a brute force and savagery that hides behind soft features and doe eyes... What I wouldn't give to have you on me..."
He peeled his helm off, letting it drop next to him as he reached for her's. Roughing it off so he could see her face he tutted softly, puling a cloth from one of his pockets.
"...Sheela did a number on your eyes...you really can't see shit can you...?," leaning down he dabbed at the blood beading from her nose, "Such a wild, untamed thing you are..."
Outlaw didn't hesitate, bending closer he pressed his alloy lips to hers, mechanical taste receptors picking up the blood on her mouth, "Not quick to struggle...are you submitting...?"
He pressed back in, kissing her again, "You don't have to di..!"
Mardoll's hand snapped up, having found one of the dead Guardian's blades in the grass beside her, and slammed the weapon to the hilt into the side of Outlaw's neck.
Sparks and fluids erupted around the knife as he recoiled off her, scrambling back and to his feet he drew his hand-cannon.
"Stupid whore!," he roared, leveling the gun, his finger flexing to pull the trigger.
At the last possible second, Mardoll's Ghost, Revenant, flashed into view, dropping a massive stone onto the Exo's forearm, disrupting the shot.
It wasn't enough.
The round ripped through Mardoll's left cheek, blowing her teeth and a considerable amount of bone and flesh from her face, sending her reeling back to the ground to lay still and staring into the dirt...
Revenant vanished, and before Outlaw could take a second shot a shadow in the flames across from him gave him pause.
A massive creature stood there, it's silhouette some where between a serpent, wolf and squid... a myriad of milky white eyes focused on the scene unfolding, a pressure formed in Outlaw's mind, a disquieted unease that built to panic and primal terror.
Something he thought he left behind when he traded flesh for metal...
With out hesitation, his Ghost transmatted him out of there.
".....You, came....," she could barely speak as she struggled to turn over, the words more or less fell out of her mouth, slurred and slick with blood, impeded by flayed flesh and pulped bone.
As soon as the words slipped out, she fell into the void of near death.
The creature entered the clearing, bathed in flames it shifted it's shape, taking the form of a man, drifting closer in the guise of a Tall Ranger...
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I Was Wrong
pairing: young!sirius black x slytherin!reader
summary: Sirius always thought you were just like his family: ruthless and cruel. When he finds out how wrong he was, he also learns how similar hate and lust can be...
word count: 6.4k (oof)
warnings: SMUT, p in v, fingering, m!masturbation, m!receiving oral (in his imagination but still), dirty talk, marking, choking, angst, verbal fighting, enemies to lovers, academic rivals to lovers
"10 points to Slytherin," Professor Slughorn commends proudly after you answer his question correctly.
Smirking, you shoot Sirius Black a smug look and lean back in your seat. If looks could kill, you'd likely be a pile of ashes right now, but luckily his heated glares aren't more than a mild inconvenience.
You were the top of your class in nearly every subject, but Potions was one that Sirius somehow managed to eke his way to the top of. He was a naturally gifted wizard who hadn't always been academically inclined, but not for lack of talent. In his early years at Hogwarts, he hadn't tried very hard in school, instead opting to play quidditch and come up with pranks. Your rivalry was what had pushed him to work harder, and he got a ridiculous amount of satisfaction from beating you in the subject taught by your head of house.
Potions soon comes to an end and you pack your things up quickly, strutting out of the dingy room in a hurry. To your dismay, Sirius catches up quickly and you don't look at him when he starts talking to you. "How does it feel being the second best at your favorite subject?"
Not bothering to slow down, you respond icily, "How does it feel being the second best at everything else?"
He chuckles with mirth, matching your gait with irritating precision. You start to think he may finally stalk off, when he leans in close to your ear and whispers, "Not for long."
~~~
Your final class of the day is History of Magic, one which you have the misfortune of sharing with Sirius again. Adjusting your book bag on your shoulder, you walk into the classroom and take your usual seat at the front. You spot Sirius joking with his friends near the back, and you once again begrudgingly admit to yourself that he would be beautiful if he wasn't so infuriating. The way his soft brown eyes always have a glint of mischief, or how his long, dark hair is always styled perfectly or how—
A bell rings, signaling the beginning of the hour and you are jolted from your thoughts. Sirius takes a seat next to you, and unable to help yourself, you glance over at him. You find him already looking at you, a barely concealed grin on his face. "I hear Binns is assigning essay groups today. Now, should I invite 50 people or 100 people to the party I throw when I ace the essay and get the top score in History of Magic this year?"
Rolling your eyes, you turn back to face the front of the classroom, your hair falling over your shoulder in a silky curtain. "In your dreams, Black."
You would be lying if you said that your little rivalry with Sirius wasn't amusing at times, but it was mostly a way to keep you in check so that you could get out of your parent's house once you passed your N.E.W.T.S. Your friends knew about your disagreement with your family's blood purity morals, but no one outside of Slytherin paid enough attention to see how much your house's reputation displeased you.
Professor Binns eventually starts lecturing about the Goblin Rebellions and you quickly grab your quill and parchment. You try your best to stay focused, but even your interest in history can't keep you engaged with Binns' slow speech and indifference. By the time he starts assigning essay pairings, you are so zoned out that you almost miss it when your name is followed by Sirius Black's.
Your eyes widen with disbelief and you turn to Sirius to see an aghast expression on his face. You open your mouth to say something but Sirius just shakes his head and mutters, "There's no point in fighting Binns. He doesn't care enough to rework the arrangements."
You know he's right, but anger and dread flood your veins at the thought of spending a week working with Sirius fucking Black. You stuff your things into your book bag and stomp past him, taking a moment to gripe, "I can't believe I have to work with a bloody Gryffindor."
You're almost out the door when he shoots back, "It's not like I want to work with blood purist scum!"
Shaking your head, you roll your eyes and keep walking until he is out of earshot. His insults used to hurt your feelings, but you had long since gotten over your insecurities about your family and upbringing. His snipes just served to prove his ignorance about who you really were.
~~~
Sirius is fuming as he storms out of History of Magic. He would rather eat slugs than spend a week with you for the essay, but he knew that arguing with the decision was futile. When he passes through the doorway you just walked through, he smells the faint scent of mint and gardenia. Before he can stop himself, he breathes in deeply, catching the last remnants of your lingering perfume. The regret he feels is immediate and he rubs a hand over his face in contempt.
When he returns to Gryffindor tower, he drops his bag in his dormitory before throwing himself onto the couch in the common room. Remus and James are sitting by the fireplace, working on their own homework when he puts his hand to his forehead and groans loudly.
"What's up with you?" James asks, lifting his head from his parchment.
"Wait, let me finish this line," Remus says, waving his hand as he frantically scribbles down a few words. "Okay, what's going on?"
"Oh, nothing," Sirius sighs dramatically. "Just that I've been partnered up with the worst person in the world."
"Binns put you with Snape?" Remus gasps, only slightly feigning astonishment.
"Nope," Sirius shakes his head, lifting his brows for effect, "worse. He put me with y/n."
The two boys share a look for a moment, before James breaks the silence with a small, "Ah."
Sirius, on the other hand, looks at them incredulously. "Ah? I have been given a death sentence and that's all you lot have to say?"
"You don't think you're being a tad dramatic there?" Remus asks quietly. "She's not as bad as you seem to think she is."
Sirius doesn't seem convinced, so James interjects. "Yeah, Lily really doesn't mind her either, actually. They met at one of Slughorn's parties last year."
"Well then, she must be fantastic at hiding her true colors," Sirius decides, sitting up on the couch. "You all have seen her family's reputation. What they've done to people like you, Moony. She's practically following the same path."
"Pads," Remus says carefully, not wanting his next words to come across the wrong way, "the same could be said for you and your family."
"But I'm a Gryffindor!" he yells, surprising even himself with his emotional outburst. "I chose a different path! I pushed them away! I did that!"
Silence echoes throughout the nearly empty common room and Remus and James know better than to push the subject any further. They slowly return to their work, and Sirius pushes himself off of the couch before taking the stairs two at a time up to the boys dormitories.
~~~
Potions the next day is a tense affair, made worse when Professor Slughorn announces the date of his next party.
"Members of the Slug Club are welcome to attend my party next Friday evening," he states, smiling kindly at the students, before a serious expression crosses his face. "Formal attire mandatory."
You tilt your head down to hide the smile that tries to escape, before turning to your friends to discuss what you all are going to wear. The class ends soon after and you are surprised to see Sirius waiting for you by the door.
Your friends shoot you weary looks, but you nod, telling them it's okay and that you will catch up with them later. When they all shuffle out, you turn to him and sigh, "To what do I owe this displeasure?"
"Hilarious," he replies in a flat tone, before pushing himself off the wall and walking alongside you. "We're partners for Binns' essay. We have to make some sort of plan for the assignment."
You know he is right, and you curse yourself for not being the first one to reach out. "We are both finished with classes for the day. We can go to the library and find the books we need right now, and then make notes this weekend. Next week, we can meet a few times before it's due on Friday to write and edit the paper."
Sirius seems fine with this plan, and you hate how pleased you feel from his approval. He takes a moment to ponder your idea, running a hand through his long, shiny hair, and you find yourself admiring how it gleams in the sun.
"Okay," he finally says, jolting you from your daydream, "works for me. Let's go."
"That's all?" you ask with surprise. "No jibes?"
But he has already started walking towards the library, his long legs giving him an enormous stride that has you jogging to keep up. "Plenty of time for that."
~~~
You both manage to find several helpful books for your essay fairly quickly, and soon you start flipping through them to mark the relevant sections. When you reach the textbook on Magical Relations throughout History, you find a chapter on notable wizard families and become intrigued. As if in autopilot, you flip to the page with your family name and begin scanning over the names, when Sirius comes up next to you and grabs the book from under your face.
"What's got you so hooked?" he asks, looking at the page you were on.
"Give it here," you command, your voice wavering slightly. He doesn't notice.
"Ah, the y/l/n family!" he exclaims, before diving into the content and listing the most recent wizards in chronological order.
Each name feels like an electric shock and you can feel it getting harder to breathe as your lungs struggle to pull air in. When he starts reading the names of your parents, you rush forward and snatch the book back, snapping it closed.
He looks taken aback and anger shoots through you, replacing the discomfort and embarrassment. "How would you feel if I went through your family history?"
Sirius clenches his jaw, his nose flaring with enmity. "How is that the same? Your family has done vile, awful things, and I bet you can't wait to join them!"
He really thought you were just like them. How could he not see how your family went against the very essence of who you were?
But you didn't have the energy to fight him anymore. "Yeah, you're right. Because you obviously know everything about me."
He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "What are you on about?"
He looks like a puppy with his bewildered expression and suddenly you can't decide whether you want to punch him or shake him. You settle for a "Whatever, Black" before tossing the book onto the table and stalking out of the library.
Your hair blows behind you as you pass by Sirius, and he finds himself wishing he could reach out and run his fingers through the velvety strands. You were striking when you were angry and it was the most infuriating and confusing mix of emotions he had ever experienced.
~~~
The weekend passes quickly and when Monday arrives, you both work on your halves of the essay in silence. You catch yourself glancing up at Sirius a few times, and you can't help but admire his steely focus on the work at hand. His intellect and work ethic are two of the few things you admire about him, after all.
Your eyes are falling shut when you check the time and see that you've been working for hours. You close your ink pot and stuff your parchment into your bag as you get ready to leave.
You are carefully putting away your quills when you hear Sirius' voice, quiet over the crackle of the fireplace. "Why are you in Slytherin if you don't actually care for your family?"
It was the same question you heard all the time, from every direction. Why are you in Slytherin if you hate your family so much, y/n? No one ever asked why Slytherin was associated with such darkness, when it stood for so much more than that.
Glaring at him, you force the memories down and spit out the first ill-chosen remarks you can muster. "Maybe I do care. Maybe I am exactly what you believe! I don't give a fuck what you think about me, Black, so leave me the hell alone."
You start to leave the room as he retorts, "You disgust me."
A humorless laugh escapes from your mouth and you pause for only a moment before exiting the study room. "Back at you."
Sirius is left stunned, his mouth practically hanging open in shock and confusion. Your words were filled with poison, but your voice had contained something he couldn't quite place. He doesn't allow himself to think about it, instead leaving the study room and heading back to Gryffindor tower to get ready for quidditch practice.
The weather is dreadful, souring Sirius' mood even further, but somehow James is his usual chipper self. They scrimmage for a bit, before James parks himself by the goal posts to chat with Sirius about his latest interactions with Lily.
"She laughed at one of my jokes today," James muses, his tone joyful as he gesticulates wildly, balancing on his broom with irritating ease. "I could listen to her laugh for the rest of my life."
Sirius is only half listening, unable to turn his thoughts away from your earlier outburst. He wished that he could crawl inside your mind and understand everything about you, but that impulse was at war with his righteous desire to distance himself from you at any cost. He's considering his choices when he hears a deep voice yell from across the pitch.
"Oi, Black, Potter, I don't pay you tosspots to just sit around and chat!" Frank Longbottom barks out, squinting through the rain.
"Er, Frank," Sirius hesitantly responds, "you don't pay us at all."
"And your point is...?"
James clears his throat and speaks up before Sirius has the chance to get them into trouble. "Sorry, Longbottom, we were just discussing Saturday's match plan against Hufflepuff."
Frank nods and flies off, forcing James to actually do his job as chaser. Sirius shakes his head vigorously, trying to shake off the rain and his thoughts of you, before resuming his station in front of the goal posts. The rest of practice slogs along, and by the time Frank finally lets the team head back inside, they are all drenched.
Sirius can feel the cold deep in his bones and he sheds off his quidditch gear the moment he enters the boys dormitories. Racing to the shower before James can get back from talking to Frank, he turns the water as hot as it can go and steps under the scalding spray. He audibly sighs as the chill in his veins dissipates, and he leans against the tile as the water cascades over him.
The water also helps melt some of the stress that has seeped into his bones, but it's not enough. Quidditch and school and his family and that damn essay. Everything in his life recently has been building the knot of tension in his gut and he needs to relieve it.
His hand slides down and he palms his length lightly, working it slowly before gripping it in his hand. His cock grows, aching with need, and he starts moving his hand, massaging his shaft with slow strokes. Wet heat zings up his spine, and he leans his head back against the wall, quickening the pace of his movements.
He feels the coil tighten in his abdomen and he rubs his thumb over the tip to bring him closer, but suddenly the pleasure stagnates. He clenches his fist harder, but the wave feels far away, taunting him as he tries and fails to crest it. Sirius groans in frustration, turning around to lean his forehead against the tile. His hand grasps his cock again, but this time a reprehensible thought enters his mind and burrows into his subconscious.
This time it's your hand gripping him instead. He's so desperate for release that he allows himself to give in to the fantasy, and suddenly you're in front of him, taking his length in your slender fingers. Your lips curve into a cheeky smirk and you sink to your knees in front of him as he watches you in awe. He can feel you lick a flat stripe up his shaft and he groans, heat surging through him again. When you finally suck him into your mouth, he thinks he may come on the spot, but he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to prolong the sensation. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and he can almost imagine your scent as he thrusts up into his own hand, wishing it was yours instead.
He knows he should stop this — he shouldn't even have allowed himself to begin — but it feels so good. So good that he can't bear to imagine what it would have felt like had it been real.
One final thrust brings him to his release and he gasps into the shower wall, pressing his forearm against the tile to keep himself upright. The moment the pleasure ends and his brain clears of its fog, a waterfall of shame washes over him. Sirius scrubs his body with soap, hoping to rid himself of his guilt, but even after he has washed and dried himself, the feeling remains.
He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds that James has yet to return from talking to Longbottom, and he clambers into his bed, pulling the curtains closed around him. He doesn't emerge from his bed until late the next morning, just in time to rush to his first class.
He thanks the heavens that he doesn't share any classes with you today, and he goes through his day in a daze, not fully focusing on any of his subjects. You, on the other hand, are rampaging through the halls with a reignited enmity. You can't get your last argument with Sirius out of your head, and you've been forcing yourself to push down your fury all day.
By the time you finish your last class of the day, you are heading back to the Slytherin dungeon when you spot Sirius ducking into an empty classroom. After a whole day of tamping down your emotions, just the sight of him makes your cheeks flush with anger. Against your better judgment, you stalk forward and follow him into the room.
Sirius turns back in surprise when he hears you enter, but it quickly turns to exasperation and something that looks like abashment. "What the hell are you doing here? Can no one get some bloody peace and qui—"
"Why do you so easily assume that you know me?" you spit out, your volume a bit louder than you would've liked. "You constantly insist upon inserting yourself in my life, but you don't take the time to even try to understand me!"
His expression suddenly grows darker and he scoffs, "Because I do know you. Our families are the same. We grew up with the same upbringing, and I don't even have to look past my own bloody family tree to find a dozen examples of how that turns out."
He looks so sure of himself that you have to fight off the urge to wrap your hands around his neck and strangle him. Taking a step forward, you can't stop yourself from raising your voice even further. "You're so infuriating! How can anyone stand to be around you?"
Sirius barks out a laugh, taking another step closer, "You're not exactly a cakewalk either, sweetheart."
His last words bring him that much closer to you, and suddenly you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. You peer up at him hesitantly, frightened by the fact that this proximity to Sirius Black isn't scaring you off. Instead, you almost feel emboldened, and you find yourself leaning in slightly, enjoying the way his breath hitches when the wisps of your hair tickle his chin. You see his eyes flutter closed as he inhales slowly, as if trying to remain still, and you tilt your head back to—
The door creaks open and you both fly apart, but not fast enough. Remus enters slowly, his head peeking inside as his eyes widen with astonishment.
"Oh bugger, sorry," Remus exclaims, turning around to leave the classroom.
"It's fine," Sirius says emphatically, as if he's trying to convince more than just Remus. "Nothing's going on."
You can't stand the awkwardness, so you mutter a quick "gotta go" to Remus, before jetting out the door.
Sirius watches you leave, internally kicking himself for letting you get under his skin like this. He was no stranger to wanting — or being wanted by — women, but this was something different. Something that brought out a longing from within him that he had no hope of understanding.
"Is this why you've been acting so weird recently?" Remus asks, looking at Sirius pointedly. "Because you fancy her or something?"
Sirius flashes him an incredulous look, hoping it's more convincing than it feels to him. "Pff, shut up, Moony."
Remus purses his lips, clearly not believing a word he's saying, but he thankfully lets the subject drop. "Well, anyway, I heard your voice from outside and I thought I'd let you know that James was looking for you. Something about getting to quidditch practice early..."
Sirius groans good-naturedly, secretly excited about the prospect of relieving his frustration through a nice scrimmage. Grabbing his book bag, he follows Remus out of the classroom and heads down to the quidditch pitch.
~~~
Sirius doesn't know what to think about you anymore, and he is only more confused when he hears your voice in a side corridor on the way to Transfiguration the next day. He stays hidden around the corner, but manages to catch the end of your conversation with Snape.
"Why do you get off on hurting people, Severus?" you ask, your voice dripping with venom. "You're a fucking blood purist who's tarnishing the Slytherin name with your outdated and disgusting ideologies."
"Don't bother yourself with my so-called ideologies, y/n," he sneers, and Sirius pulls his wand out in case there's an altercation.
You scoff and Sirius is surprised at the pride he feels at the sight of you standing up to Snape. "Slytherin stands for cleverness and ambition, not for ruthlessness and cruelty. You and your lot have given us an awful reputation just for existing and I'm bloody tired of seeing you all prancing around these halls like you care about what it means to be here!"
Sirius hears the swish of your robes, and he backs up behind a gargoyle statue right before you turn the corner and strut past him. A warmth fills his chest and he swallows thickly, trying to place what he's feeling. He saw a different person in you everyday and each time he spoke to you, he never knew what he was getting himself into. You were the least predictable person he had ever met, and god help him, he liked that about you.
The rest of your essay work sessions occur in a similar fashion to the first, and Sirius doesn't mention what he heard. You are more than content working in silence, but something feels off between the two of you, and you hate how much you miss the way it used to be. The banter and the jibes and the rivalry.
Peeking up at him through your loosely hanging hair, you see him chewing the back of his quill, his brow furrowed tightly into a small 'v'. Curling your hand into a fist, you resist the urge to press your fingers into the worry lines on his forehead and smooth them out. He really was beautiful when he worked, his eyes burning with focus and determination. Pursing your lips, you push the thought away and continue writing the last few paragraphs of your paper.
~~~
The day of Slughorn's party arrives quickly and you are frantically getting ready with your friends after turning in your part of the essay for Binns' class. You were relieved to be done with the project, but it would be remiss to say that you didn't miss seeing Sirius outside of class hours. You finish up your makeup and adjust the thin straps of your black, floor-length gown, before pulling on your shawl and heading out.
In the Gryffindor boys' dormitories, Sirius and Remus are wrestling their ties on, with James flopped on his bed, timing them to see who can tie theirs first. Remus wins by a hair, and Sirius plops down next to James, a playful frown on his face.
"Get up, you tosser," James laughs, pushing Sirius off the bed. "You'll wrinkle your suit."
"This is why we keep you around, Prongs," Sirius grins, smoothing his shirt down before patting Remus on the back. "So that you can teach us the ways of your posh upbringing."
"Fuck you," James replies, a smile creeping onto his face. "Anyway, you lot better head to the party. Don't want to be too late."
"But don't forget, James," Remus mocks, grinning pointedly at Sirius, "the party doesn't begin until Padfoot arrives!"
"Right you are," Sirius hoots, before saying a quick goodbye to Peter and pulling Remus through the door with him.
Somehow, they are still in the first batch of people to arrive, and they occupy themselves by grabbing champagne flutes from the passing waiters.
"Bit stuffy, isn't it?" Remus mutters, taking a sip from his glass.
Sirius nods, downing the whole glass before grabbing another flute. "We'll chat up some of the professors then head out early."
"Works for me."
Remus starts scanning the room to see if he can spot Madam Pince, and just as Sirius brings the champagne to his lips, he sees you walk in.
His hand freezes in mid-air and he can't take his eyes off of you no matter how hard he tries to look away. You look ravishing in a long, black gown and your hair cascades down your back in a gleaming waterfall. Just when Sirius starts to regain the mobility of his hand, you slide off your shawl and the sharp curves of your collarbone shimmer under the candlelight.
"Have fun with that," Remus whispers, his tone laced with humor, before patting him on the back and walking off to speak with Professor Slughorn.
You don't notice him at first, but after you hand your shawl to someone working by the door, you peer up to see Sirius Black staring at you, his mouth slightly agape. When he sees you looking back at him, he looks at the ceiling and swallows a large gulp of champagne. You know something is different between you two, but there was no way you were going to be the first to address it. Spotting one of your friends from class, you head over to join their conversation.
Sirius had always known you were beautiful but he had never let himself truly see it before tonight. Before you had winced at the sight of your family's atrocities, and stood up to Snape when he was being exactly who Sirius thought you were. He had been so wrong all this time.
Spotting you across the room, he tightens his tie and pushes himself off of the counter he was leaning against. Head held high, he saunters over to where you are laughing with your friends and stops right in front of you. You look up at him in shock, which quickly turns to uneasiness. "What do you want, Black?"
He looks you straight in the eyes, his attention refusing to waver, as he says simply, "Dance with me."
Your expression is filled with skepticism and something else he can't decipher, but to his surprise, you take his hand. He pulls you up from your seat and leads you to the other side of the room, where a quartet is playing music. The song they are playing is a bit fast-paced for slow dancing, but when Sirius shoots them a look, they immediately transition into a slower melody.
"Impressive," you say jokingly, acutely noticing the moment his hand moves to rest on your waist.
He smiles softly and you both dance in silence until Sirius turns his gaze back to you, piercing you with his eyes in a way that always got you flustered.
"Thank heavens that essay is over," he states, his lips curving slightly. "I missed our little class rivalry."
You nod slowly, relieved that he is voicing exactly what you've been feeling. "It's not as fun when we're on the same side."
He's silent again for a few moments, before he pulls you a bit closer in his arms and scrutinizes your face in an annoyingly charming way. "But we are, aren't we? On the same side."
His statement catches you by surprise, you don't know what to say. You can't seem to break the eye contact you've been sharing and heat travels down your spine at his languid gaze. You almost wish you could go back to when he didn't look too hard into your life, but a part of you knows that this is a good different.
Before you can lose your nerve, you sigh and whisper, "Yes...we are."
You can feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you don't want to take your eyes away from him, afraid that if you look away, you will lose this connection that has somehow developed in the midst of your silent war. You instead choose to focus on how long his eyelashes are, practically casting shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you.
Sirius notices the moment your skin begins to flush and he has to tighten his grip on your waist to keep his breath steady. Every point of contact between the two of you burns with unbridled possibility, and his usual confidence wavers as he fixates on the pink spreading across your cheeks. He can't imagine how you couldn't know the effect you have on him, and he slowly pulls you in closer to gauge your reaction.
You gasp slightly when your chest presses against his, and for a second, you completely forget that you are supposed to be dancing. Your sudden pause disrupts Sirius' rhythm and before you can readjust, he is inches away from you, his chest heaving.
"Let's get out of here," Sirius whispers, his voice husky.
You're so caught off guard that you lose the ability to speak, opting for a quick nod that ignites something in his eyes. He slips a hand behind your lower back and leads you off the dance floor, guiding you into the hallway. When he finds an isolated stairwell, you finally regain your bearings and press him against the stone wall, reveling in the sudden burst of courage. Sirius looks back at you mischievously, and you immediately kiss the smirk off of his face.
You hear him mutter a quick invisibility charm under his breath and you can't help but be vexed that he thought of it faster than you did. When you part his lips with your tongue, he groans under his breath, and the sound sends heat rushing down your abdomen. Filled with a newfound confidence, you bite his lip teasingly, before yanking on his tie to loosen it.
"Holy shit," Sirius exhales, leaning back against the wall while you unbutton his shirt, completely letting you have your way with him. Ever since that night in the showers, he has imagined this moment incessantly, but something told him that the real thing was about to me infinitely better.
You grip his lapels, trying to pull him closer and closer, and he obliges, wrapping his arm around your body as he lifts you to sit on the ledge beside him. His lips are so much softer than you could've imagined, and he presses feverish kisses along your jaw, setting you instantly ablaze. This moment is everything you wanted it to be and you feel heat pool in your belly as his hands begin to ride down, shifting the hem of your dress higher.
The image of the two of you here, together, is so wild and unexpected that you almost can't believe it's even happening. You must have spoken out loud, because Sirius smirks against your skin and says, "What? You can't believe you're alone in a stairwell with the top of your class?"
You pull back immediately, sputtering, "Wha- what? Top of the class, my ass!" when you see a grin cross Sirius' face.
"What?" you ask, your mouth scrunching into a small pout.
"You're never gonna stop arguing with me, are you?"
You press your lips together, unsure of what he's getting at, "...No."
His grins widens and he pulls you forward into another searing kiss. "Good."
Your chest bubbles with satisfaction that quickly turns primal when Sirius starts bunching up your gown. He hikes up your dress slowly, allowing you plenty of time to change your mind; when you don't, he slides your panties to the side and enters you swiftly with a lithe finger.
You gasp at the contact, your back arching into his body, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face at your response. Just the feeling of your warm heat makes his pants tighten with desire, and he has to clutch the silky material of your dress to keep himself from reaching down and undoing his belt buckle. You look so beautiful under him, and he wishes he could commit this image to his memory forever.
You lean your head back against the cool stained glass behind you, and Sirius dips down to run his tongue up the smooth expanse of your exposed neck. Just when the heat is almost too much, he sucks the skin on your pulse point, sending shock waves of pleasure coursing through you. He adds another finger and you cry out in ecstasy, grabbing onto his open shirt for some sort of stability. The motion of his fingers combined with the warmth of his lips brings you so close, but right when you are about to feel the release, he pulls his fingers out.
"Fuck," you exclaim, your eyes widening in disbelief. "I was so close!"
Sirius ignores you, tugging his pants down quickly and unsheathing his thick shaft. "You're not coming unless it's on my cock."
A ferocious desire courses through you and he swears he has died and gone to heaven when he sees how your eyes sparkle with lust. You nod immediately, and he yanks your panties off fully before lining himself up with your entrance. You brace yourself, but it's not enough to prepare you for the feeling of his hard cock splitting you open. You can feel every inch of him as he pushes into you, refusing to stop until he's fully seated within you.
Sirius can't believe how good you feel around him, and he forces himself to allow you a second to adjust before he starts moving. As soon as he begins thrusting into you, white hot pleasure curls up your spine, wrenching out moan after moan from deep inside your throat. You had thought about this moment so many times, but nothing could compare to this. This connection you felt with him that was slowly setting you ablaze.
The sight of you beneath him triggers an animalistic response, and Sirius suddenly has the intense desire to mark your pristine skin. He wants to see the column of your throat littered with bruises to show the world that you had been his.
Sirius brings his hand down, his fingers splaying across your throat, before he tightens them around your neck. Your eyes widen with surprise that quickly turns to hunger, and he squeezes until he can feel your pulse beneath his fingertips. Just when it starts to become too much, he loosens his hold and tilts your head back, lifting your body up to meet his. The change in angle has him hitting the perfect spot deep inside of you, and your eyes roll back from bliss.
You are already gasping with pleasure before he begins nipping at the skin behind your ear, slowly making him way down your neck. You know the marks will be hard to hide, but you can't bring yourself to care. Soon the knot of pressure in your abdomen starts tightening and you know you're getting close, so you reach your hand down to touch yourself.
Sirius' thrusts start to falter a bit as he gets closer to the edge, but he can feel your walls closing in around him, so he quickens his movements. The spicy scent of your perfume turns his brain fuzzy and he bites down on the hollow of your collarbone as another pang of possessiveness washes over him. The sensation sends you flying over the edge and the feeling of you tightening around him brings him to his release shortly after.
When you finally come down from the high, you are both out of breath, your chests heaving. You immediately start looking for your panties, and Sirius pulls his shirt back over his shoulders, buttoning up his pants. You are about to turn away when Sirius reaches over to cup your cheek, bringing you up to face him again.
"You're beautiful," he mutters, his thumb absently stroking your jaw as he looks at you with a familiar glint in his eyes. "I was so wrong about you, and if only I had known—"
"Then what?" you ask, your expression turning into one of disbelief, yet longing. "Then we could have been together? Come on, Black, you know we never would've worked out."
You say the last words with a small smile, which Sirius eventually returns. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You never would've been able to keep up with me anyways."
"Wha-" you sputter, "excuse me?"
But Sirius is already laughing. You're so incredulous that you don't realize what he is doing until he pulls you forward into a quick kiss before whispering, "See you in class, y/n."
Taglist: @regulusblackswhorecrux @distortionbobble
#sirius black smut#young!sirius black smut#sirius black x reader#young!sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x f!reader#sirius black x slytherin!reader#slytherin!reader#sirius black#harry potter smut#marauders#marauders smut#remus lupin#james potter#jily#snape#fem!reader#fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction
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la vie en rose- Part 9 (of many)
-Pairing: Fezco (Euphoria) x reader
-Summary: Reader wins her diving meet, yay! Fez wants to celebrate ;)
-Warnings: Swearing, this one is definitely SMUTTY, I wouldn't say this one is 18+ just yet, BUT IT'S DEFINITELY MATURE.
Slowburn folks, you know how mean I am.
-Word Count:
-A/N: READ WARNINGS. No cliffhanger again in this one folks. JUST A FAIR WARNING THOUGH. Spicy. Not nearly as much as I'd like but I don't know where you guys stand with smutty shit. Y'all are probably devils in disguise for all I know.
Masterlist
Playlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
It took us a few months to get into the swing of things at Fez’s.
Sienna and I eventually decorated our room with the help of the boys, the room sorting itself out. We came over with a lot of stuff that day and the fact that we managed to find a spot for everything is shocking. But even Sienna, in her nervous glory, relaxed into things. She relaxed into her school schedule, she made friends with Ash, the two of them developing their own friendship in the midst of everything. But I did eventually have to fill her in on the job that Ash and Fez take part in. She wasn’t too shocked but now she could at least understand why her and I were quickly ushered out of the room and behind a locked door whenever someone came over at one in the morning.
Fez and I eventually figured things out, the temptations and anxiety around us fizzling out as we grew into our normal routine. It was comfortable and nice. But we still didn’t tell any of our friends how close we were, only that Sienna and I were living with him for the time being. Jules seems to be the one who doesn’t entirely believe me.
“Y/n, seriously, when was the last time you got fucked, like it’s not the 80s, you need to catch a dick.” Jules snorts as she shuts her locker, the noise scaring me and snapping me out of my thoughts. I roll my eyes at her as she pulls me down the crowded hallway, the end of school day bell making us giggle in excitement. “I’ll bug you about that later, are you excited for your meet?” She asks and my face flushes. Since the New Years has passed, along with Valentine's day, the swim/diving season is now in full swing for varsity girls.
Speaking of New Years, there was definitely something between my sister and her new found love of marijuana. And I didn’t totally lack a New Years kiss at midnight, it’s just not who I was expecting.
Looking around the room, Sienna cheers, jumping up and down as she grins at me. The ball finally dropped, the New Year starting as I grin at her. I can tell she’s relieved to be in this environment instead of any other, the joint between her fingers being passed between her and Ash with a blush. Moments pass, Ash and Fez sharing a manly hug, before Fez turns to me, pausing. Giving him a nervous grin, he leans over, gently pressing a kiss to my forehead as I chuckle warmly.
“You know what, Ash, get your ass over here!” I yell, pushing Fez away as he gasps, offended. He falls onto the couch as I grab his brother's arm. I share a knowing glance with Fez, his eyes trailing over my body as I pass him. Ash looks up at me nervous as I lean down, pressing the biggest kiss to his cheek as he squeals. His cheeks flush as I giggle, shoving him down next to his brother. “Happy New Year fuckers!”
Smiling at the memory, I grin, turning my attention back to Jules as she continues to smile proudly at me. “You and Lexi are both going to kill it.” She bumps her shoulder against mine, my stomach swirling in excitement at the thought of getting back in the water. “I’ll be there with Rue, front row.” She grins, taking my hand in hers as we walk towards the pool. I take a deep breath, stopping outside the doors as she smiles reassuringly at me, shoving me towards the door. “Go find Lexi, text me if you need me. I’ll see you in a minute!” She presses a light kiss to my cheek before rushing off in the other direction, her heels clicking against the tile. Working up the confidence to enter the locker room, my eyes immediately see Lexi in the corner, already in her teal suit. She grins widely when she sees me, her warm smile and wave inviting me over to her bench as I set out my stuff.
“Are you as nervous as I am? Cuz I’m freaking out.” She whispers, looking up at me as she holds her hair in a bun. “What dives are you doing anyways?” She questions and the conversation calms me down. As we share tips and tricks, along with our line up for the meet, I feel my anxiety slowly brush off my shoulders as she talks. Eventually slipping into my suit, the material actually managing to hug my hips in the right way, I hold my arms up in a ‘tada’ form as Lexi claps. Even as the hustle and bustle grows as the swimmers come and go, Lexi and I chat, eventually working up the courage to walk out into the pool room, our bags on our shoulders.
Looking out into the crowd, I immediately spot Rue and Jules in the front row, waving at us happily as we pass. I stop for a moment, sending Lexi on her way as she makes her way over to the bench. Jules approaches the divider, leaning over it to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Good luck.” She whispers and I grin, taking a deep breath as the nerves run through me. She pauses, turning back to Rue who sends me a wink. “Uh,” Jules starts, my eyebrows pulling together in confusion, “I forgot to mention, Fez is here, okay bye!” She cringes nervously, the news stopping me in my tracks as I look anxiously around the crowd.
And she wasn’t lying. Fez, Ash and my sister sit happily on the top bench of the bleachers. Smiles cover their faces as I spot them, shaking my head sheepishly. Great, now even more reason to be nervous. I watch as Jules sits back down in her seat as I make my way over to Lexi, my heart now pounding out of my chest as she glances at me.
“You okay?” She asks and I scoff, pointing up to the top of the bleachers as she giggles. Feeling her wrap an arm around my shoulder, her laughter diminishes as the swim races begin. I fold my legs up in front of me on the bench, turning to look at her. “You’re the best diver here. Fez and your sister being home won’t change that. I promise.” She whispers, her hand rubbing up and down my back as my phone buzzes. Pulling it out of my bag, swiping on the message, I grin.
Fez <;3 You look hella cute.
I snort, as I look up into the bleachers, his fingers dancing in a simple wave. I send him a wink back, putting my phone away as I watch my team swim. Unable to keep my full attention on them, I sneak glances at Fez along with the judges. You never know what you’re going to get when it comes to judges. Whether they’re seasoned veterans or alumni, it all impacts how they vote. I just hear the tips in my head; straight arms and legs, chin tucked to chest, hair tight against my head, feet slapping against the water is always good. And don’t hurt yourself.
That’s always number one.
As the first half of the swimming portion comes to an end, my eyes flicker up to my sister who grins like a mad woman at me. I send her a kiss, standing up as Lexi pats me on the back. Next I see Ash who claps loudly as I approach the board, my name being cheered by the boy. Fez is relaxed, his knees spread as he leans against the cool brick wall, a small smile on his lips. Closing my eyes as they announce my stunt and my name, I step up onto the board doing a quick stretch, I adjust the board as I smile to myself.
My favorite part about diving is how quiet it gets as the crowd waits for me to do my trick. Stepping up to the edge of the board, my arms stretched out above me, my toes rest on the end of the board as I bounce slowly. I always make the first dive my favorite dive. Especially because it’s easy and it’s terrifying to the audience. As I jump, snapping in half as I hug my knees, I do a perfect one and a half somersault, my feet hitting first, creating the most perfect slap. I hear the crowd cheer as I approach the water's surface, my hands quickly finding the side of the pool as I wait for the judges.
Hearing a score of nine is like music to my ears. I grin loudly, Lexi helping me out of the pool as I jump up and down in her arms. She giggles like crazy, pulling me over to the side as I dry off briefly. As the girl from the other school goes, doing a simple one and a half front dive, she receives a six and a half. I’m not cocky but… I’m cocky.
Eight dives come and go, all ranging from a seven and a half to a nine and a half, personally above my average. The girl from the other school averages around the same, just twenty points behind me with our last dive left. Biting my lip as she dives, receiving a perfect score of ten, I shit myself internally. Fuck.
I know that either way, if I bomb the next dive or get a perfect score, I’ll win. But the point is a record that I’ve developed over the years and I don’t like when people get close to my score. Call me a bitch, I like to win. I like to be hundreds of points ahead of them. But this time I don’t think it’s my fault, I think the other girl is just that good.
Stepping up to the board, I gulp visibly at the next dive. Catching Lexi’s gaze, she gives me a reassuring nod, her fists under her chin as she waits. It’s the hardest dive that I typically don’t use at meets, but the coach recommended that I pull out all the stops for the sake of our statistics as a diving team. So I agreed. Take one for the team, right?
So I stand on the edge of the board, closing my eyes to calm my heartbeat as the crowd quiets. Bouncing up and down a few times, gaining enough momentum, I hoist myself into the air and I can already tell and feel that I have it in the bag. The somersaults are flawless, and the twist seemingly happens on its own without me forcing it. When I land in the water, I hear Lexi cheer along with my coach.
And, man, could I not get to the surface fast enough.
Lexi and the coach hug each other as my eyes fly to the coaches table, a ‘10’ written on all of their boards. “Holy- Oh my god! You’re joking!” I yell out, quickly swimming as fast as possible over to the side of the pool as the coach pulls me out of the water and into her arms. Water drips off of me but she doesn’t seem to care as she whispers words of encouragement and excitement. I jump up and down, my head spinning as the news floors me. “That’s the highest I’ve ever gotten on that dive!” I scream, stepping back to look at the coach, the proud grin on her face making me cheer once more. She nods, cupping my hands in her face as Lexi approaches us, her arms wrapping around my waist as we squeal.
The room eventually switches, swimming beginning again as Lexi and I make our way into the locker room to get changed. Divers were technically free to go after the diver segment, no reason to wait around since we don’t do anything after home meets and we don’t swim a cool down lap with the swimmers.
“Holy shit, dude. That was insane out there.” Lexi huffs, laying down on the bench as I lean against the lockers, the coolness of the metal grounding me. “You got a fucking ten!” She yells, hitting me with her towel as I giggle, covering my face with my hands. “I wonder what Fez thought.” She sits up, her eyes wide as I realize that he witnessed that. Setting my bag down, I shuffle through it looking for my phone. When I finally put my eyes on it, I can see the four missed texts from the man of the hour. Giggling, I sit down next to Lexi as I open my phone.
Fez <;3 You’re the only girl I know who can make me hard while brutally smacking her face on the water during warm ups.
Mkay, that first one scared the shit outta me.
I didn’t know you could bend like that.
Your sis is shook. I have zero clue what’s going on. Jus that you look good while doing it.
I giggle loudly, reading over the text a few times before sending a text to my sister, telling her to meet me out in the hallway. I throw my head back in happiness, shoving my phone back into my bag. That man. I quickly get my black towel material dress out of my bag, placing it onto the bench as Lexi and I quickly get out of our freezing suits.
We do our normal routine, wiping the salt water off of us as we both put our respected beauty products and perfume on. That was one thing that we both agreed on, we hated smelling like the pool. Slipping into the dress, it barely falls on my thighs, my cheeks warming at the sight. What was Fez going to think of it?
“Shit, I forgot a bra.” I hug my chest in realization, looking through my bag as Lexi braids her hair with a laugh. Huffing, giving up, I sit on the bench as Lexi finishes her braid. Lexi stands quickly, making her way behind me, her fingers sectioning parts of my hair as she braids it. “Lexi, I gotta go! Don’t braid my hair.” I giggle, standing up as she continues to fiddle with my hair. Sliding on my slides, I walk away from the lockers, Lexi following me closely as she continues to braid my hair. Tears fill my eyes from the laughter as her fingers work on my hair, all the way into the hallway. Watching as my friends and family approach us, I giggle.
“Get on your knees!” Lexi orders, shoving me to the tile as I look up at Ash and my sister with an eye roll. “Let me finish.” She huffs, her fingers working magic on my thick and knotted hair. When Fez approaches us, his eyes are wide and naughty as he looks at the position I'm in. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, shifting in his spot as he adjusts himself not so subtly. My cheeks heat up for a moment, watching as he turns away from the group for a moment, obviously flustered. I look down realizing my boobs are, quite frankly, pushed up as far as they can go, the gold chain that Fez got me resting gracefully against my skin. Making it even better, my hands rest prettily on my thighs. When he looks back at me, his pupils are blown and I smirk. My bottom lip tugs between my lips as he shakes his head at me with a laugh. He knows me by now. Looking at my sister and not Fez’s curious gaze, she high fives me.
“You killed that other girl, sis. She was crying when she left!” Sienna cheers, clapping her hands as she celebrates my victory. “You’re so cool. Even Ash was like ‘oh my god’ the whole time, right Ash?” She looks at the boy by her side who grins at her, nodding his head, impressed.
“It was hella cool. I’ll come whenever you’ve got these things going on.” Ash chuckles sheepishly as Lexi pulls me up to my feet, her arm wrapping around my shoulder. I look at her, my hand reaching back to touch the two braids that make their way down my scalp.
“Thanks bubs.” I smile at her, her grin not faulting as she looks down at her phone. “Text me, okay?” I ask as she backs away, well aware she has to leave before her mom flips.
“Love you, you killed it!” She yells, blowing me a kiss as she skips down the hallway chanting my name. I giggle, my face heating up as I set my bag down on the floor next to me.
“I wanna wait for Rue and Jules and then we can go.” I grin, saying it more to Fez than anyone else. He nods, still yet to say anything to me yet. I can tell he’s nervous, his opinion of me must be changing in that pretty head of his. In a good way I hope. Maybe he’s intimidated by me? Not even moments later, Rue and Jules come bursting through the door, Rue trailing behind as Jules rushes up to me. I grin, pushing past my sister jog towards the tall, happy girl. She wraps her arms around my waist, hoisting me into her arms, my legs quickly wrapping around her waist. We both giggle loudly as she spins me around, tumbling to the ground gracefully but quickly. Our backs hit the ground breathlessly as Rue stands over us, her little snorts making me grin.
“You’re fucking fantastic!” Jules gasps, reaching over to slap my boobs. I feign offense, rolling my eyes at her as I reach over smacking her back. “No literally, you and Lexi are like these goddesses sent to make our minds naughty, girl.” I look up to Rue who holds her hand out to me, helping me off the ground as she pats my back proudly. “You’re so hot! Who knew you were that bendy!” Jules giggles, her eyes squinting as she compliments me. I grin, covering my cheeks with my hands as they heat up. Rue nods along, obviously agreeing with the statement. “Damn, wow.” Jules huffs, placing her hands on her hips as she grins. “Okay, so, Rue and I have to go, but I will be texting you all night.” She promises, shoving me playfully as I take it. Rue wraps an arm around the both of us, walking down the hallway towards my family. Feeling a hand slap my ass, I squeal, jumping away from them.
“Stop slapping my ass, you perv!” I giggle, pointing at Jules as she shrugs playfully. I turn to my sister, wrapping my arms around her as I rest my chin against the top of her head. Rue and Fez share a quick hug as Jules pulls her down the hallway. “Bye babies!” I yell as they send me waves as they leave the hallway. Laughing as the excitement dies down, I turn to Fez who looks at me happily. “We ready?” I ask, looking to Ash who looks at Fez for help. Confused by the silence, I look down at Sienna who grins.
“Fez wants to drive you somewhere. Ash and I are getting a ride.” She responds simply and I look up at Fez whose eyes are on the ground. Floored, I look from Fez, to Ash then back to my sister as no one gives me further explanation. “Good luck. Come on, Ash.” She winks at me before grabbing Ash’s hand, pulling him down the hallway. The nerves in my stomach growing, I turn back to Fez who has taken a few steps closer to me. My eyebrows raise as I look at him, his silence unsettling.
“Come on.” He whispers, motioning towards the door as I follow in his stride. He walks quickly as he fiddles with the lanyard on his keys. Butterflies swim in my stomach as he holds the door open for me, my head ducking under his arm as I make my way into the cool spring air. My slides smack against the concrete as I follow the man in front of me, wondering where we’re going and why.
When we arrive at the car, he opens my door politely for me, letting me sit down slowly as I place my bag at my feet. When he closes the door, I think back to the last day and a half, wondering if I upset him or something. His texts less than an hour ago seemed fine. As he enters the car, he sits down, huffing as he hesitates to start the car. My mind spinning, I decide to finally speak up.
“Did I do something wrong?” I croak out, the words not coming out as clear and confident as I’d like them to. Catching his attention as his head whips to look at me, he laughs. Realization slaps him across the face as he shakes his head, turning in his seat to reach across the middle console. Taking my hand in his, he grins.
“Sorry, angel.” He whispers bashfully, the nickname making my thighs squeeze together. “I, uh, knew if I said something in there then I’d lose my cool. Trust me, we’re cool.” He spins in his seat again, turning the car on as I heat up. Slipping my slides off, I tuck my knees to my chest, looking over at Fez with a dopey smile.
“What could you have not said in there, hmm?” I ask, watching him as he pulls out of the parking space, a small laugh escaping his lips as he drives away from the school. “Was it something like what you texted me cuz, Jesus Fez, I was next to Lexi.” I snort, my cheeks heating up as he rolls his eyes, his head hitting the headrest. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered that my pain brings you pleasure. That really hurt my face!” I giggle, reaching over to slap his thigh. The street lights illuminating his smile as we drive down the dim road, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“You gotta give me a bit to be honest about all that shit.” He chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck at my accusations. “Verbally at least. Sayin’ shit out loud is hard for me.” He admits with a grin, stealing a glance at me as I choke out a laugh.
“Not the only thing hard for you.” I cackle, covering my mouth with my hand as he gawks at me. His jaw is dropped, his eyes having a difficult time focusing on the road as I snicker. “You set me up perfectly to make that joke, I couldn’t not say that, you should know this by now!” I explain, sitting up in the seat, picking at the edge of my dress. Our laughter and shock calms down as he pulls onto an entry ramp for the highway. Peering out the window as LA fades in the background, I’m not full of questions. “You’re not gonna like, drive me into the middle of nowhere to kill me right?” I ask as he chuckles lowly, shaking his head.
“You’re trippin’.” He grins. “Nah, you’re good. Though we aren’t exactly following the rules of ‘not bein’ alone together’.” He motions between us and I snort, folding my legs under me as I play with the chain around my neck. “You’re not exactly making it easy on me.” He glances over at me, his eyes trained on my open thighs as he clears his throat. I’m nothing but tempting. “Just relax. It’ll be a while.” He changes the subject, now referring to our drive ahead of us.
Slowly the city faded behind us, the country now spreading out across the earth. I look out the window with a grin, my eyes sleepy as we continue to drive. I’m still unsure of where we’re going in the first place, but Fez assures me that it’ll be worth it in the end. We’ve been driving already for a few hours, midnight coming and going and ‘goodnights’ from my sister and my friends coming and going.
The window rolled down, my hand sticking out into the cold air, I smile as I sing along to the song blasting throughout the car. Fez grins at me, my heart pounding as he speeds down the interstate. No traffic at this time of night, no sir, so it’s just the two of us, speeding and singing happily. Not a care in the world, my win behind me and now alone time with the man that I’m crazy about. Who I’m not allowed to touch and who’s not allowed to touch me. Ugh.
Ignoring my thoughts, I watch as a big sign approaches us to the right. Welcome to Nevada. I read the sign outloud, turning to Fez who smiles smugly. My eyebrows pull together as I roll up my window, suddenly suspicious.
“Please tell me you’re not taking me to Vegas cuz I’ll die there. I’m not nearly baller enough, sweetheart. It’s nice that you think I am.” I giggle as he snorts, his head shaking. Okay so not Vegas. As we drive past the sign, the car slows considerably, making me even more confused. In the middle of nowhere and why? Fez slowly maneuvers the car off the road, the only light in the car coming from the dim light on the dash. “Okay, what?” I giggle nervously, taking my seatbelt off as he shrugs. “Tell me.” I plead, reaching over to slap his chest playfully.
“We’re in Nevada.” He replies simply as if it would make a lightbulb go off above my head but I’m still just as confused as before. I watch as he pulls a joint out from his pocket, silently lighting it as I impatiently huff.
“I’m not following here, love, you gotta give me something else.” I giggle, crossing my arms over my chest as he gazes at me softly.
“You know the term, ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’?” He asks simply, taking a hit off of his joint before simply handing it over to me. I nod, graciously taking it from him as I lift it to my lips. “Well, we’re close enough to Vegas.” He snorts as I choke on the copious amounts of smoke that I just inhaled. Coughing, I try to recover but it just doesn’t happen easily. Chuckling at me, Fex reaches over to rub my back as my mind spins at his words. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Regaining my sense of speech and breathing, I look at him with wide eyes as he smirks.
“You drove me nearly four hours to make out and dirty talk me?” I ask through a gasp, my throat burning at the air rushing through it. He snorts but nods at my statement realizing it’s completely accurate. “Oh my god.” I giggle, covering my face as he watches me. “You know, you’re so much more smooth than people give you credit for. That’s like stupid romantic dude.” I chuckle, trying to get the topic on anything else but how nervous I am. Reaching over, he takes my hand in his, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“You don’t gotta be nervous. Not with me.” He shrugs simply, my heart warming at his kind words. I send him a nervous smile, looking out the window at the dark expanse that’s in front of us. “We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna.” He reassures, the grin on my face growing even more as I look back to him, mischief gleaming in my eyes. Smirking, I swing my leg over the middle console, sliding down onto his lap carefully as he eyes me.
“Consent is sexy, Fez.” I whisper, settling on his lap, my hands gently rest on his shoulders. His hands hover just above my thighs, his eyes wide at my words. He seems hesitant, almost as if he has to explain to himself that it’s allowed.
“You looked pretty on your knees back at the school.” He mutters, his hands finally resting on the tops of my thighs and I hiss, getting used to the coolness of his rings on my hot skin. “This dress is… wow, shit.” He looks up at me, his pupils blown as I gently massage his shoulders. “Com’ere.” He grabs me by the elbow, gently pulling me down to wrap his arms around me gently. Taken back by his gentleness, I wrap my arms around his neck happily, taking a deep breath as he rubs over my back.
“You make me so nervous.” I whisper, my lips brushing against his neck as he hums. His hands migrate south, his hands now resting on my tailbone as I sigh quietly, pulling back to look at him. Our chests are pressed tightly together in the close confines of the car, his chest rising and falling slowly. “And seeing those messages after I went into the locker room, god…” I trail off, my head craning back as I stare out the sunroof. “Seems like you can’t handle seeing me in a bathing suit.” I giggle, looking down at him as he nods, his eyebrows raised playfully. His hands move from my back, around my waist to rest on my hips, his grip tighter than before.
“You just always look so fine.” He whispers, his head tilting. Breath getting caught in my throat, I gasp as he sits up straighter. “I say we give it till your 19th.” He offers sudden, my head not connecting the dots. We can be together once I’m 19? “And for now I can finally tell you all the stuff I wanna do to you once I can.” My thighs clench subconsciously, Fez’s eyes flicker down to the limbs that trap him. His fingers dance down from my hips to my thighs once more, his fingers dancing under the material of my dress.
“Yeah, what’re you trying to do?” I ask quietly and teasingly as he leans forward, his nose gently bumping with mine as he messages the inside of my thighs with his thumbs. Brushing against the stretch marks on the sensitive skin, my hips stutter.
“I’m tryna blow your back out.” He whispers, his eyes shining in the dim light. Watching as his neck cranes to gently capture my lips in a heated but soft kiss, my eyes flutter shut. I gently reach up, my hands cupping his cheeks as his hands sneak under my dress, bunching it up as his hands water to my ass. Moaning softly as our lips part, he pulls me even closer against him. Gently running my blunt nails down his scalp, he lets out a loud groan, his head hitting the head rest with a thump as he pulls away from my lips. He looks absolutely fucked. “Fuck.” He whispers, his eyes fluttering shut as I repeat my actions, gently scratching his head as my lips dip down below his jaw. Taking every opportunity to press my lips against the softness of his neck, he moans quietly, his hands gripping my ass tightly. “You got zero clue what you do to me.” He whispers, but I can feel what I do to him. Leaning back with a proud smirk, I grin down at him. His lips are parted, soft pants coming from them as he gazes.
“I have an idea.” I whisper, my voice even more breathless than his. We sit there for a moment, staring at each other as silence wraps around us. “So, are you just gonna sit there or are you going to do something?” I ask innocently, my hands dragging down his chest to rest on his belt. He kisses the back of his teeth, a cocky grin on his lips.
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, hmm?” He asks, his hands slipping up my back, his fingertips on my bare skin making me shiver. Trying my best to keep up my unbothered gaze, his eyes widen at the lack of a bra as he travels up further. My jaw slacks at his words, my mouth drying out as my heart beat picks up. “You act like you’re not just falling apart in that little head of yours.” He grins, his eyes shutting as he peppers kisses against my jaw.
“You act like you’re not thinking of me in every position imaginable.” I whisper breathlessly as he gently skims his lips down my neck, my thighs clenching once more around nothing. “Unlike you, I can hide my attraction pretty easily.” I grin at my jab, feeling his hips jump underneath me. He chuckles quietly, one of his hands moving out from under my dress, to reach up to cup my cheek. He grabs my chin, angling my head to look down at him as he shakes his head playfully.
“Where did all those manners go, huh?” He asks sheepishly, his eyes slightly embarrassed at his problem down south. “You’re giving me a run for my money.” He chuckles, both of our grins big and happy, like there isn’t a care in the world.
“Good. I gotta charge you something for me acting this way.” I giggle, cupping his cheeks gently, my thumbs brushing over his freckled cheeks. He rolls his eyes playfully as he presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist.
“You trippin if you think I’m gonna pay for what’s mine.” Playfully slapping my ass, I take a deep breath in order not to just fall apart then and there. Noticing my change in attitude, he messages gently over the spot that he just hit, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Biting my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, I gently grind my hips down onto his as his eyes widen. “Hmm, you liked that?” He asks, referring to the simple spank, his smile growing even more cocky.
“I can go from fancy to filthy in the smack of an ass.” I giggle, nervously tucking my face in the crook of his neck as he laughs loudly, his hands now returning to my covered back, rocking me gently back and forth. “You’ll learn all the ins and outs eventually.” I whisper quietly, my tone still flirty, but my eyes heavy. “It’s nice to be able to touch you.” I whisper, my hands running up and down his chest softly. He hums in agreement, his lips pressing against the side of my head as we sway to the music.
“It’s nice to be able to tell you exactly what I’m thinkin’.” He responds simply, his chin resting on my shoulder as my eyes flutter shut. At this point, my heart is so full of love that it might burst. I know that’s cheesy but sitting here, with him, I don’t care about anything else in the world. “I can’t wait to have you in my bed, waking up to you.” He confesses, my heart warming and my mind spinning. “Be able to take you out, spoil you shitless.” I chuckle quietly, my hands finding their way under his shirt, dancing along the plates of his abdomen. “And you know, the other shit. ” He chuckles sheepishly as I lift my hands to his chest. I pull away from his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat pound under my hands as he gazes up at me. “If I’m being honest, you’re kinda everything that I want in life.” He whispers, his nervous eyes avoiding mine as his fingers dance up my forearms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My heart stops at his romantic words, my hands coming out from under his shirt to rest on his jaw. His nervous eyes find mine again, a bashful smile on his lips as I lean down to press mine against his. He responds immediately, his smile present in the kiss as I sigh.
It’s as if I’ve kissed him all my life. We’re just used to each other by now even though we’ve only shared a handful of kisses over the period of our relationship. The comfort that he offers me as his hands rest on my back, the way his head tilts the deepen the kiss, our noses bumping, the way his lips feel so unbelievably soft and gentle against mine. His grip tightens on me as I pull back, my forehead resting against his as we both catch our breath. Moments go by, his eyes searching mine as I smile softly and nervously at him.
“I’d die for you.” He whispers, his eyes wide and honest as I blush. His lips trail down my cheek to my jaw, and down my neck. He holds my cheek in his hand, like putty in his lap. My neck goes slack as I moan softly, feeling his fingers gently take the hair tie out of my hair. Pulling the braid out as he threads his fingers into my still damp hair, I sigh. “I’d kill for you.” He groans, his fingers gently pulling on my hair as I moan. “You know I’d do anythin’ for you, woman.” Grinning, I look down at him, his hand trailing from my hair, his fingers gently stretching across the span of my throat. Pulling me to him, my head spins. He presses a kiss to my cheek gently, the contrast between his rough hand and his gentle kisses driving me crazy. “You’re so damn pretty and you’re so smart, angel.” I grin, gazing at him as his hand leaves my throat, dancing over the column between my breasts. “And you way naughtier than I thought.” He snorts, my head tossed back in laughter as he presses kisses to the column of my throat.
“You’re so good with words.” I whisper, my heart fluttering in my chest. “You’ve really got me speechless over here. Gimme a minute.” I giggle, watching as he pulls away from me, giving me a second to catch my breath.
“Sorry baby.” He whispers, his hands soothing over my thighs gently and slowly. Taking a deep breath, he mirrors me, grinning wildly as his hands dance over my body. Even that in itself is so distracting, my mind going a million miles an hour as I think of what else he could throw at me.
“Sorry, I needed to regroup.” My eyes flutter shut as I regain my composure, Fez watching me intently. “I wish we could just stay here.” I mutter, looking around the cozy car as he nods along with me. “I never wanna go back.” Wrapping my arms around his waist, I tuck my head into his chest as he chuckles softly. “I just wanna talk and kiss until our lips are bruised and we run out of things to talk about.” I admit quietly, watching as Fez’s cheeks heat up at the look of me.
“Yeah, whaddya wanna talk about?” He asks, his thumb rubbing the inside of my thigh as I continue to smile at him. “Wanna talk about how you wanna fuck me or how you want my last name?” I giggle, my forehead landing on his collarbone as he chuckles heartily.
“Both.” I chuckle, feeling as Fez scoots to the edge of the seat, my legs wrapping around his waist as I grin. He reclines the seat back a bit, the silence comfortable around us as I snuggle into his chest. “My big bad drug dealer.” I giggle, my fingers drawing circles on his chest through his shirt. Sliding down next to him on the seat, I throw a leg over him which he immediately has his hand on. He rubs up and down gently, from my knee to the edge of my dress. I tilt my head up, gazing up at him with heart eyes.
“Damn right I’m yours.” He whispers, leaning down to peck my lips lovingly. I grin at the words, my heart swelling as I let out a little squeal. “No one but yours.” He cups my cheek gently, his thumb brushing against my cheekbone as his other hand travels up my thigh and under my dress.
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A/n: Heehee. I was sweating while re-reading this lol.
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☘︎︎. ᦔ nct dream and their high school crushes .̾
㋛ about: the members of nct dream crushing on you, fluff, high school!au, cw: very brief food mention, lmk if i missed something
！ᴏᴛ.❼ — gn!reader
˒ for mark it’s about … your words. on the very first day of the school year, he immediately takes notice of you when you choose to sit beside him in his elective class. but it's when you start talking that he really starts to pay attention. he can't pinpoint why, but he begins to fall in love with your words and the way you talk. you're just so knowledgeable and passionate about the subject and he adores having that shared interest. yet the best part is when that certain charm in the way you talk about the class gets even better when you talk with him everyday before and after class. somehow the way you speak to him makes him blush and sends hundreds of butterflies to his stomach.
˒ for renjun it’s about … the little things. he's not one to seek a high school romance, but you just keep catching his eye. it's in the way you seem to be living in your own world, dancing lightly to the music in your earbuds before the bell rings, or the doodles that make their way onto your paper in place of notes. the quirk to your lips when he passes a sarcastic comment and the tilt to your head when you can't figure out what in the world the teacher is saying has him unconsciously staring at you for minutes on end. his interest in you only grows when he makes the effort to casually talk to you, and is elated to realize that you're happy to reciprocate.
˒ for jeno it’s about … the way you look at him. the first time that he talks to you is when the teacher pairs the two of you together for a project. naturally, he walks up to your desk when it's time to begin working. and before coming up to you, he just figures it'll be a calm, easy project with a nice new friend. then you look up at him from your seat and he's surprised that the first thing that crosses his mind is that you look very, very cute. throughout working together, he comes to love your looks of confusion when something doesn't make sense, the confident one when you know just what you're talking about, and best of all, every moment of eye-contact. and every time you look at him with a smile, he feels a feeling of adoration bloom in his chest.
˒ for haechan it’s about … your laugh. at first you’re kinda just one of the kids in his social studies course, but one day he walks past your lunch table during lunch and hears you laughing at a friend’s joke. he nearly gets whiplash from how fast he turns to look at you, because “wow their laugh is gorgeous.” now every time he makes a joke in your shared class, he finds himself unconsciously glancing at you to see if think its funny. he almost doesn’t notice the warm satisfaction he feels when he makes you laugh until a contrasting wave of jealousy hits him as you giggle at something jaemin does.
˒ for jaemin it’s about … your voice. the combination of jaem being the sweetest guy around and him already being interested in you since you chatted about the homework a few days ago makes it natural that he pays very close attention to anything he can do for you. so when you start grumbling about how gosh dang hungry you are, he doesn't hesitate to reach over and hand you a snack from his bag. something about your smile and voice when you say thank you makes his heart flutter. now he just can't stop talking to you, both to get to know the lovely person you are, and maybe a part of him just wants to keep leaving your sweet voice.
˒ for chenle it’s about … your connection. you and chenle have been best friends since middle school, and nothing has ever more right. everything about your relationship has always just fit so right, your personalities complimenting each other in a way that the words "best friends" could never truly encompass. and one night he lays in bed, just excited as any other day to see you in homeroom the next morning and thinking of his friendship with you. it surprises him when he feels a sense of fluttering in his stomach and a blush creep up on his cheeks. but then it's natural when, after a few days of your shared homeroom and holding hands in the hall, and he realizes that there's one think that just might feel a bit more right.
˒ for jisung it’s about … the way you make him feel. it's because he's never felt this way that makes him so curious about you. sure, he gets shy and nervous around most people, but you send him into a different sort of panic when you call his name from down the hall. suddenly, he knows what people mean when they say they felt "butterflies" in their stomach, because that's the only way to describe the fluttering in the pit of his stomach when you make eye-contact as you work on a project together, and he can't help the soft smile he gifts you each time he sees you.
☺︎︎ ･˚ ᵎ ・′‥
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#nct dream reactions#nct dream headcanons#nct#nct dream#nct dream fanfic#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#nct dream high school au#nct high school au#nct dream mark#nct dream renjun#nct dream jeno#nct dream haechan#nct dream jaemin#nct dream chenle#nct dream jisung#nct mark#nct renjun#nct jeno#nct haechan#nct jaemin#nct chenle#nct jisung#mark lee#huang renjun#lee jeno#lee haechan#lee donghyuck#na jaemin#zhong chenle
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—the love bug. (m)
⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader
⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut
⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: every night, jungkook puts on the red mask and flings himself confidently into perilous danger; but that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit seems to fail him whenever it comes to you
⟶ warnings: coarse language, mild violence, jungkook is really shy and cute and dumb bc he’s so smitten, also jungkook’s butt in spandex is nice, needy/clingy sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), face riding, fingering, riding, missionary, unprotected sex
⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of a fic i had on my old blog!
You see Jungkook every night without fail.
When the sun has set below the distant horizon and plunges the world into a formidable darkness, driving most ordinary civilians to seek shelter in their homes, he stumbles into the café tucked cozily on the corner of a busy street in Lower Manhattan. The concrete city is still very much alive in a harmonious mix of sirens and the hum of cars but is subdued, muffling under the night sky and is most susceptible at this time to misconduct. Usually, at this point of night, the café you work at is nearly empty, save for a few stragglers that huddle tiredly at certain round tables. Most times, these are students from the university you attend just around the bend, whose weary eyes peer over the laptop in front of them as they meticulously work on an essay due the next morning, only fueled by the cup of coffee next to them.
Though you’ve seen Jungkook plenty of times around the campus of your school, he never once enters the café for the sole purpose of late night studying or writing. Instead, as you come to find over the course of many strange nights, Jungkook stumbles in through the doors sometime after 9 p.m., always with one strap of his backpack thrown over his shoulder. He always looks dishevelled, exhausted, as if he has spent the evening running all over the city of New York; and then he plops himself down into a seat by the window, burying his head in his folded arms that lean on the top of the table. Most times he orders a coffee and though he downs it the fastest you’ve ever seen, he is still somehow able to fall asleep at the table. Sometimes, he hardly ever touches the coffee and lets it grow cold as it rests next to him but he always, without a doubt, falls asleep next to it.
You never wake him. Usually, when you work the late night shifts, you are alone for a handful of hours until your next coworker arrives for their shift. You don’t mind the company anyway, even if he sleeps for most of the night. It’s comforting to at least see he’s resting, though you find yourself snickering to yourself as you watch the snoring boy when it’s just you and him alone in the café. Though you have grown up with Jungkook as your next door neighbour as a child, have attended the same schools and been in most classes together from elementary all the way to your freshman year of college now, and have watched one another mature and change, you have never really exactly gotten to know Jungkook as well as you’d like. Typically, your conversations are short and friendly, ranging from you taking his order at the café and spotting him around campus and asking if he knew the answer to a question for the homework assigned to the class you share with him.
This night isn’t any different.
You’ve become eager, always anticipating when Jungkook will walk through the doors of the café and make himself at home as he routinely does. However, just before 9 p.m. on a Thursday night, when the small bell above the door rings to signal a new arrival, you are immediately disappointed to find that it is not Jungkook. Instead, it is a crude muscular man not much older than you with tattoos that litter his arms and a star inked into the left side of his neck. The sight of him causes you to groan inwardly, forces you to straighten your back a little more, hold your chin a little higher. Most nights the café may be occupied by university students, but other nights you are forced to deal with tasteless strangers that try to intimidate you but instead give you an agonising headache.
You have seen this man before, have remembered the star tattoo and the scar just above his right eyebrow. He has come into the café before and has been the source of trouble more often than not. As the man approaches the counter in an imperious stride this time, you notice the smirk that tugs at his lips and feel the foreboding shudder that runs down your spine.
“Evenin’,” You greet. “Can I get you anything?”
The man’s eyes flicker to the menu above the counter, as if he is pondering what to order. He looks back down at you and then leans against the counter, closing the distance between him and you causing you to take a step back.
“How are you doing tonight, sweetheart?” he asks. “Been awhile, huh? Did you miss me?”
Forcing a fixed smile on your face, you reply shortly with, “I’ve been well. Can I get you anything?”
Apparently, the way you repeat your question in a firm manner doesn’t act as well of a hint as you had hoped for the man. He’s smirking wickedly, clearly enjoying the strain he puts you through.
“I know what you can get me, sweetheart,” he drawls. “When do you get off? Maybe we can meet round back and I can show you what a real man is like.”
“No thanks.”
“Playing hard to get, hm?” he muses. “I wonder what else that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”
Though you are appalled, you swallow your nerves and narrow your eyes into a glare. It can tell you to kindly fuck off, you grimace to yourself. Instead, you turn your back to him, pretending to occupy yourself with cleaning the counter as you mumble blankly, “Not interested.”
The man chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s just a little fun━”
“She said she’s not interested.”
The familiar voice that interrupts the man causes your heart to leap blithely in your chest and makes you realize you have been so caught up with the man by the counter that you hardly noticed the way the bell rings a second time as the newcomer enters the shop. Standing just behind the man is Jungkook, whose carob hair sticks out in messy tufts and weary eyes are laced with an underlying menace. The man looks from you to Jungkook and must assume the confrontation isn’t worth a fight. The smug smile remains on his face even as he shrugs, muttering something along the lines of, “Whatever, man. I was just trying to have some fun.”
Whether or not Jungkook has scared him away, the man relents and retreats to the door of the café, disappearing outside once more. As soon as the door shuts behind him, you come to realize that you are now alone in the café with Jungkook with nothing but the sound of the flat screen t.v that hangs in a corner behind the counter, faintly playing on the news channel.
“You okay?” he asks, catching your attention. “He didn’t do anything, did he?”
“Oh, no. No, I’m fine,” You say. “Thanks for that, by the way. Though I could’ve handled it myself.”
Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t doubt that but it’s nice to get a little help sometimes.”
You smile up at the boy who towers above you and, despite the fatigue that droops his eyes, his pink lips still unfurl into a wide, radiant grin that brightens his face.
“How long are you here for tonight?” he asks.
“Till close. Then I have to head home and put together a powerpoint for psych,” You yawn as if to emphasize your boredom. “What can I get you? The usual?”
Jungkook looks at you as if you are his saving grace. The smile stretches further across his cheeks as he nods. “Please?”
“Will do. Sit tight, I’ll be right over.”
You spin around from behind the counter, almost immediately jumping to work as you rummage through the shelves. When you’re finished making his order that consists solely of a medium black coffee with two sugars and turn back around to face him, you find him seated at a table off to the side, not far from the counter. His backpack lays discarded on the ground by his feet and his elbow rests on top of the surface of the table, his chin nestled in the palm of his hand; his eyes are fixated on the television screen hanging just ahead and, for once upon entering the café past dusk, he doesn’t lack a sense of emotion. Instead, his brows knit in concern as he is engrossed by whatever is happening on the news.
As you approach his table with his coffee in your hand, you crane your neck to look up at the screen and what has seemingly caught his interest. On one side of the screen is a female news reporter in a pink blouse and gray blazer; on the second half of the screen, you see a familiar flash of striking red and blue that swings from building to building from an, albeit, shaky recording from a passerby’s phone.
“And in other news,” The woman who speaks has a strong, smooth voice as she stares ahead at the camera with a rather sour look, “the masked mystery man, otherwise known as Spider-Man, was spotted earlier this morning when he put a stop to a robbery in an apartment in Queens just before noon. Though most would argue that Spider-Man is New York’s very own masked hero, the New York City Police Department are still searching for the identity of whom they call a vigilante, saying he is causing mayhem in━”
“Some guy, huh?” You muse pensively, sliding the coffee onto the counter next to Jungkook. “This spider guy or whatever.”
The boy in front of you glances down meekly at the coffee and back up at you. His eyes flicker to the screen hanging in the corner once more. “You mean Spider-Man?”
Nodding, you say, “Yeah. He comes out of nowhere two years ago and now he’s everywhere. What do you think of him helping with all this dangerous crime stuff?”
“Ah, well, that’s his thing,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “If he couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t be helping solve a lot of the city’s crimes. I think he’s pretty cool, y’know, for a masked guy. I definitely don’t think he’s a vigilante or━ or a criminal.”
“You talk about him as if you know him,” You giggle.
Jungkook’s eyes widen for a split second and then he’s furiously shaking his head. “Know him? No, no, of course not! I’m just a… Just a big fan ━ and an even bigger fan of Iron Man.”
He picks up the coffee next to him and lifts it to his mouth for a quick sip, nearly burning his tongue but swallowing his curses.
“I like him,” You confess at long last. “He’s interesting. I think he’s just what we need at a time like this.”
Just then, the bell above the door rings once more and a small group of friends wander into the shop, each carrying backpacks and heavy textbooks. They sit at a table off in the corner and you sigh as you look back down at Jungkook.
“That’s my cue,” You say. “Gotta go, but have a good night, okay? And, Jungkook? You really should get some more sleep.”
Jungkook opens his mouth to respond but you are already turning away and so he sits back in his seat, defeated once more. He watches as you stride happily to the group of friends sitting at a table to take their order, your hair bouncing slightly under the fluorescent lights. He folds his arms over the top of his table and buries his head in them, though he sneaks one last glance up at you. Despite his eyes itching with sleep, he pries them open just a second longer to watch you smile as you speak with the students and it is the last thing he sees before he slips off into a light and contented sleep.
As you step out into the cool, early Autumn night and shut the door of the café behind you to lock it, the single thought most prominent in your mind is sleep.
You’re exhausted, but the homework still waiting to be completed in your home is the only thing that pushes you to stay awake. You hurry to fish the store keys out of your coat pocket and, with a euphonious chime, use them to lock the front door, ignoring the way the cold breeze nips at your cheeks. You grasp the collar of your coat tighter around your body and then hike the strap of your own bag further up your shoulder as you turn to walk away.
Jungkook had fallen asleep as per usual after your short conversation with him and then vanished an hour some time before you closed, waving a final farewell to you. The rest of your night had been rather slow, with only two more customers entering the café until each person left to venture back out into the cold and leave you alone. To finally be freed from the confinements of the café has you breathing in the crisp air in a deep breath. Exhaling placidly, you cross the street and begin making your way toward your one bedroom apartment which is only a fifteen minute walk away from both the café and your school.
You aren’t quite sure how long you have been walking for when you begin to notice the sound of footsteps behind you. In fact, if you had been listening more intently since the second you left the café, you would be able to recall the fact that these same heavy footsteps had been following along behind you since then. You don’t necessarily see the problem at hand just yet, thinking it to be just another innocent passerby who is coincidentally walking the same way as you. After all, New York City has a tremendously huge population.
You take a left, turning the corner of the street to continue along the path to your home. The only light that illuminates the way are the silvery wisps from the moon that hangs high in the night sky and the flickering street lamps that you pass occasionally. You take another left and strain your ears and hear the sound of footsteps again. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was just a random passerby, but most cities weren’t foreign to that of strange stalkers. Holding your breath, you slowly glance over your shoulder at the figure who has been following you and spot a man just a few paces away, the hood of his sweater drawn over his head.
You immediately turn back around, eyes wide as panic begins to settle in. You take another left, then a right, cross the street and retrace your steps back towards the café and each time you hear the heavy footsteps; each time they quicken in pace as does yours. You hadn’t even realized how briskly you were walking until you glance over your shoulder for a second time and see the man once more. Suddenly, you turn a sharp corner and race ahead before coming across an empty and darkened alleyway. You slip into its shadows, your heart hammering wildly against your chest and in your ears, and continue to walk until the brick wall at the very end of the alleyway comes into view. A dead end.
You turn back around and begin walking forward before freezing suddenly. If you go back out there, that man could still be lurking; if you stay in the alleyway, you could hide until you think it’s safe. Your eyes flicker around for something to cower behind and just before you notice the dumpster off to the side, you see a shadow in the corner of your eye. Turning around, you come face-to-face with the hooded man who is all but blocking your path to freedom. Except now, you’re able to stare into his face past the silhouette that his hood draws on his features. Now, you can see the star tattoo on his neck, the scar above his right eyebrow and an image of the man from the café only hours ago flashes across your eyes.
“You,” You gasp. “What do you want from me?”
Behind his hood, you can see him smirk slyly. “I just want to chat to you, babe. What are you doing all by yourself out here?”
Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You step forward to walk around him but he grabs onto you, his arm snaking around your waist as he drawls, “Not so fast. I’ve been meaning to get you alone like this.”
Just as you open your mouth to shout out for help, the noise of sudden scuffling in the alley causes the man to stop. It comes with the rustling of the wind and could have easily been mistaken for the sound of a trash can falling over or paper tumbling loosely but it is also unmistakable the sound of footsteps. The man must notice something before you do as he squints further into the alleyway, muttering a small, “What the hell━”
“Come on, dude, that’s seriously no way to treat a girl!”
The foreign voice that drifts into the alleyway seems to startle not only yourself, but the man in front of you. His grip loosens on you slightly as he cranes his neck to look amongst the shadows.
“Well, anyone, for that matter.”
The stranger’s voice is youthful, most likely belonging to a boy around your age. It is oddly calm and nonchalant despite the situation that is unfolding before him, and then he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. As your eyes flicker open, you follow the source of the sound towards the blocked end of the alleyway still veiled by the darkness. Had this person always been there or had they really materialized out of thin air?
“Who’s there?” The man in front of you grunts. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“And why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” The voice retaliates. He pauses as if he is waiting for an answer and then he is speaking up again. “Let me guess. You’re gonna tell me to screw off or something right? God, you guys are always so predictable and yet you never make it any easier for me.”
The man scowls, his hand drops from your throat as he turns to the looming darkness and hisses gruffly, “Mind your own business, punk━”
Before he can carry on, something flings out of the darkness and lands on the man’s face in a blink of an eye. He immediately lets go of you, grunting in confusion and flailing his arms about. As you drop to the ground, you subsequently bang your head hard against the brick wall and groan in pain, though you’re able to catch a glimpse of what the man is trying so desperately to claw off his face before your vision goes blurry. It is something thin and wispy, made of silver glistening strands that resembles, oddly enough, a spider’s web. As the man fumbles into the darkness, arms swinging clenched fists wildly about.
“Over here!” The boy taunts. “Missed me again! You know, you’re not very good at this.”
You struggle to climb to your feet, clutching your head in agony as you squint into the darkness. From where you are, you can only see the man fumbling around uselessly, the other figure still concealed by the darkness. As you attempt to get a better look, you hear the boy grunt in pain and catch sight of the man just after he had swung his fist into this person’s face, while his other hand had successfully been able to finally rip the mesh off his face.
“Okay, ow, that hurt,” The boy admits.
But before he or the man can continue on, you’re springing forward, mustering all your strength and courage into one impromptu movement. You grab your bag that had been discarded on the ground, heavy with a few school textbooks you had brought with you; you clutch it tightly, race up behind the man, and swing it hard at his head. His actions come to a sudden halt, he staggers forward, and immediately collapses to the ground, unconscious. Then finally, plunged into the darkness of the alleyway, you slowly look up to face the eye of your helper and are met, instead, with a flash of red and blue.
Standing before you, adorned head to toe in a tight suit is none other than the mysterious masked vigilante. He’s much taller in person than you expected, and much more muscular too, though with his face hidden beyond a mask, you can’t say much else about him. Instead, you gasp as you stare up at him in astonishment.
“Hey, nice hit!” he says, an apparent grin in his voice. “That was pretty awesome━”
“It’s you!” You exclaim.
“Me?” He seems confused at first but then he’s straightening up. “Oh, right, right. It’s me! Just, uh, your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Rescuing damsels in distress is kinda my thing.”
Your amusement for the mysterious hero is quick to fade, however, in wake of the throbbing pain on your head. It makes you aware of the fact that your knees have since grown weak, your mind spinning. When you take a step forward, you are suddenly faint and stumble over your feet, tripping to the ground. Before you can hit the pavement, the boy swoops forward and into view, catching you swiftly in his arms and holding you up.
“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he says. “Oh man, we gotta get you home. Can you tell me where you live?”
You can feel your lips moving in response, most likely informing him foolishly of the apartment complex you live in. Though this boy has been noted on performing acts of bravery and fighting against crime, he’s still a stranger ━ and, even more warily so, a complete enigma. There was no reason to trust him, despite him helping you only minutes ago, but in that moment you are weak and exhausted. In the very next second, you find yourself slipping off into a deep and tranquil slumber.
When you awaken the next morning, you are first greeted to the bright light of the sun that licks at your cheeks and warms your face. You note the soft plush of the mattress under you, the soft breeze that ruffles your hair, and when you pry your eyes open, you find yourself laying on the bed in your room; your window opened. Just when you begin to think the night before was all just some elaborate dream, you feel the slight tinge of pain in the back of your head and, despite it all ━ despite the pain and despite the memory strange man who had followed you ━ you smile softly at the thought of the boy in red and blue.
The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.
Truthfully, you’ve been eager to find him around campus if only to tell him about your encounter with New York’s masked hero. You hadn’t told many people, safe for your closest friends, though you’re keen to see Jungkook’s reaction as you’ve learned he’s a fan of this spider guy. Wednesday is the only day you have a class with him and so as soon as the boring lecture for your anthropology class is finished, you spot him striding casually out the door and catch up to him just as he’s walking down the smooth pavement of the campus sidewalk.
Word, however, seems to spread fast amongst the friends in your year and whereas you only told one of your friends on that previous Friday about your encounter in the alleyway, Jungkook has already heard the story through misconstrued words at least a dozen times, through whisperings of people that aren’t even your friends. It’s a novelty, apparently, to witness something like this strange masked man. But, naturally, Jungkook is rather surprised when he hears your familiar dulcet voice calling his name.
“Jungkook!”
He whirls around to face you and smiles as he sees your figure walking towards him, adorned in leggings and a baggy school shirt to match the evening’s warm weather. You’re smiling at him, almost as radiantly as the sun that it almost quite literally blinds him as he doesn’t seem to notice the other girl walking just in front of him. He bumps into her before he can step out of the way and hastily apologizes before turning back to you only to see you giggling.
“What can I do for you on this fine evening?” he asks as you approach.
“I’ve been meaning to find you since Friday,” You say. “You’ll never believe what happened on Thursday.”
“I’ve been hearing it all week since then.”
“You have? Who told you?”
This causes Jungkook to chuckle lightly. He hikes the usual one strap of his backpack further up his shoulder as the two of you begin to walk again, “Y/N, everyone’s been talking about it. I guess no one can keep their mouth shut anymore. So tell me: what was this Spider-Man guy like?”
A small smile stretches across your face at the name, your teeth instinctively biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to hide in. Was it just Jungkook or did he see the slightest of pink pinch at your cheeks? When you look back up at him, your eyes are shimmering.
“Honestly?” You reply sheepishly. “I think I’m crushing on him pretty hard.”
Jungkook nearly chokes. When he speaks next, his voice is slightly higher than usual, so he clamps his mouth shut, clears his throat, and tries again. “You don’t say? He must be a real charmer then. Do you, uh, even know him well enough to crush on him?”
“It’s strange,” You remark. “You’re right ━ I don’t even know him and yet I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since then. I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?”
“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.
“Remember that guy you scared away Thursday night? I got into some trouble with him━ but don’t worry!” You throw in the last few words when you see Jungkook’s brows scrunch in concern. “Spider-Man came before anything could happen. He saved me. I owe him my life at this point.”
Jungkook notes the dreamlike tone in your voice and when he glances down at you, you’re smiling blissfully down at your scuffed Converse shoes. It’s mesmerizing to see you so content and jubilant, beaming like the sun once more that hangs in the clear cerulean blue sky. He inhales a deep breath of fresh air, smells the wafting nodes of freshly ground coffee somewhere in the distance, and exhales slowly.
Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he looks over at you once more and asks, “Hey, um, so for that anthro project we have to do ━ I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to be partners for it?”
Your eyes light up at the proposition and you nod enthusiastically. “Sure thing. I’d love that, actually. Maybe we can meet up this Sunday to plan everything out and see who’s doing what?”
“Hey, Y/N!”
Just then, you hear the familiar sound of your friend calling your name. You glance ahead where your eyes land on a group of girls sitting on a nearby bench and you wave at them. They gesture you over and you skip ahead a few paces, turning to look at Jungkook. He smiles as he nods.
“Sorry,” You apologize sheepishly. “But Sunday at the café at noon?”
“Sounds like a date.” Jungkook reddens suddenly at the way he words his thoughts and stammers to correct himself. “Not a date! Work date. Uh━”
“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”
Then you’re rushing off to join your friends, leaving Jungkook alone once more. He sighs in your wake, shakes his head at himself, and grudgingly walks away.
That night you can hardly sleep.
You blame it on the stress that comes with being a student, constantly under the strain of a multitude of assignments and upcoming tests. When the clock strikes half past one in the morning just as you are finishing typing up the last sentence of a seven page essay on your laptop (seated at your desk, where you have been for the past few hours), you decide you need a break before you go absolutely insane. Shrugging on a simple cardigan, you tiptoe out of your room, down the corridor to the elevator, ignoring the way your joints that have stiffened in place stretch in a satisfying pop. You’re stumbling out and onto the roof of your apartment building in no less than five minutes, emerging out into the open night.
It isn’t terribly cold and, after inhaling a deep breath of the refreshing air, you sigh in relief and you walk to the concrete barrier at the very edge of the roof and lean against it. Gazing out at the vibrant and lively concrete and glass buildings and skyscrapers alike that build the city of New York, with each window illuminated by a warm glow of light, seems to give you a sense of peace. You can hear the hum of cars, a distant sound of sirens, the occasional honk, and the thump of bass from somewhere in the distance to your left, all amassing into the rhythmic pulse of the city; across from you, in the building complex on the other side of the street, you can see silhouetted figures of perhaps caffeinated students or late night lovers. The sky is empty, blank and dull as it stretches on over the entirety of the city, but you can see the moon, brightly shining in all its glory, bold and proud amongst the artificial light.
A slight breeze disrupts the stillness of the roof, rustles your hair, followed by the looming feeling of not being alone. You hear the sound of footsteps landing softly on the ground and turn around slowly, casting your gaze across the seemingly empty rooftop. But you see it ━ or rather, him ━ in the shadows near the door a bit further off. It’s strange how calm you are in the moment but the presence doesn’t exactly feel intimidating to you ━ especially when you notice the flash of red and blue.
“You again?” You ask humorously.
“Sorry if I scared you.” The voice that carries with the wind towards you is familiar, youthful. “Definitely not my intention.”
“I’m not scared,” You say. “If I can recall amongst your many gritty crime fighting, you saved a cat stuck in a tree a while back.”
The boy chuckles. “Ah, well, just all a part of the job.”
“What are you doing here?” You take a step toward him and hear him retreat further into the darkness.
“Well, you’re probably going to call me weird and insane,” he says, “but I just wanted to check on you. You were pretty out of it when I dropped you off at your place.”
“You’re not stalking me now, are you?”
“No way!” he says. “I was just, y’know, in the neighbourhood. I was actually about to call it a night when I passed your apartment and then I saw you up here. Must be fate, huh?”
“Fate sure is weird,” You muse pensively, pursing your lips. You pause, squinting your eyes into the darkness. “Thanks, by the way. For helping me that night and bringing me back. Is there anyway I can repay you?”
“Repay me? Oh, no, no!” he says. “That’s not what this is all about, I promise. What I do is for the city and for the people. I can sleep better at night knowing thugs like that guy are being taken care of properly.”
“That’s a pretty commendable thing to do,” You say. “You gotta be pretty brave to put yourself in danger each night.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
There’s a smirk in his voice that stretches his words into a confident and smug drawl. You, in turn, smile bashfully. You look down at your shoes and then back up at the shadows.
“Can you step out of the dark?” You ask. “I want to see you.”
“Ah, but then that’ll ruin the mystique,” he points out. “And where’s the fun in that?”
You shake your head at him, pearly white teeth gnawing down on your lower lip to hide the smile that tugs at your mouth. You pull your cardigan tighter around your torso, ignoring the distant sound of a wailing siren.
“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he says. “I have to go but it was a pleasure meeting you━ uh, what was your name again?”
“I never told you,” You say. “And if I do, it’ll ruin the mystique, won’t it? Where’s the fun in that?”
He laughs into the night, a sound so genuine and amiable. “Fair enough. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, despite the terrible circumstances. Try to stay out of trouble, okay? And get some sleep!”
You can hear him moving, as if preparing to leave. You step forward, mouth opening to stop him, but then he is gone, the sound of feet leaping into the air the last thing you hear from him. By the time you rush to the other side of the roof and look around frantically for any sight of him, you spot the mysterious vigilante as a tiny speck soaring from building to building. You smile as you watch him disappear amongst the horizon, bleeding into the glow of lights until he is gone, becoming one with the city altogether.
The days pass in a very typical blur.
Sunday comes and goes much too fast where both you and Jungkook work diligently for a few hours at the café before the rest of the week goes by. You hardly see Jungkook except for at night, as always past 9 p.m., when he stumbles wearily into the café and plops down in his usual seat. And, with the days passing as usual, there are still the consistent reports of sightings of this mysterious Spider-Man. Though you seem to go about your routinely oblivious days, you are all Jungkook is able to think about. You are all he usually thinks about these days, anyway, and all he is thinking about that very Wednesday when he’s supposed to be hanging out with Taehyung.
It isn’t uncommon to see Jungkook with Taehyung around campus. They have, after all, been best friends since the moment they met in their small daycare they attended together. Taehyung is more than accustomed with Jungkook’s habits and knows the boy in and out, including every secret and every crush he’s ever had (which, for the most part, has been you). That Thursday afternoon they are both sitting at the park just across from campus where most students from the school spend their time. Jungkook’s perched on the edge of the large concrete water fountain in the middle of the bustling meadow, with Taehyung reclining on his back, basking in the sun with a bag of chips on his stomach. They both spot you walking by with a friend and wave at Jungkook which causes Taehyung to roll his eyes.
“Dude,” he sighs, exasperated. “Just ask her out already. She already said she’s crushing on you.”
Jungkook looks down at his friend and shakes his head. “No, she said she’s crushing on Spider-Man. Not me.”
Taehyung, who was in the middle of shoving a handful of chips in his mouth, stops suddenly. He pushes himself up, nearly dropping the bag of chips, eyes wide as he stares at Jungkook in utter disbelief.
“Are you kidding me, dude?” He asks incredulously. “You’re the same person, you idiot.”
“But she doesn’t know that,” Jungkook explains calmly. “As far as she knows, Spider-Man is this cool dude and I’m just… I’m just me. Jungkook. Boring and not charming.”
“So then tell her the truth,” Taehyung says. “Y’know, use yourself as your own wingman.”
As he shoves another handful of chips into his mouth, Jungkook shakes his head once more. He’s already thought of this idea plenty of times before but it’s not as easy as it seems. The responsibility that comes with putting on that mask each night is followed by even greater risks for the people he’s around. Telling you the truth could only end in one way, anyway.
“I can’t do that,” Jungkook says. “What if I tell her and she’s let down?”
Taehyung would shake his head disapprovingly at his friend this time and mumble something along the lines of, “You think too much.”
And while that may be true in Jungkook’s case, Taehyung just wouldn’t understand. There is a reason Taehyung is the only person who knows about Jungkook’s secret and he is already endangering the life of his friend. To tell anyone else would only result in a much more terrible outcome for not only the people around him, but Jungkook himself. Still, though, as Jungkook settles back on the edge of the fountain and looks in the direction of the path you had vanished along, there is an inkling of a voice in the back of his mind that nags him, urges him, to tell you.
Jungkook sighs. He finds it ironic that anytime he puts on the red mask and flings himself into perilous danger, he is always confident, never once wavering, and yet when he is just himself, just another mundane passerby, that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit suddenly pales in comparison.
If only he could be so brave without that mask.
On Friday evening well into the night when what little stars you can see in the polluted sky begins to blend with the glowing light from building windows as far as the eye can see you find yourself at an overcrowded and clamorous party. You had been more than content with spending the start of your weekend not working but, upon entering the party, you find yourself not nearly enjoying the time as well as you had hoped you would. You’ve long since lost sight of your friends and the guy standing in the corner of the living room who had been eyeing you for most of the night had most certainly not helped with your mood ━ and, if anything, turned you off from drinking.
Albeit still slightly buzzed from the few drinks you had earlier been bestowed in the quintessential red solo cup that defines every high school and college party you’ve been to, you stumble out onto the balcony of one of the rooms for a breath of fresh air and are startled to find you aren’t alone when you spot the figure of a young man leaning against the railing.
“Oh, shit, sorry. Didn’t know anyone was out here━”
As the figure turns around, you are relieved and thrilled to see it’s Jungkook. You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut, and smile up at him with a dainty hand on your hip. A look of recognition dawns on his face at the sight of you, his own lips tugging into a friendly grin.
“That’s okay,” he says. “Feel free to join me on the balcony of escaped party attendees ━ because I assume that’s what you’re doing? Escaping?”
You push yourself forward to the railing, standing beside him as he turns back around to face the city. “I just needed a break from it all. You? I gotta say I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here.”
He flashes you a sheepish smile, resting his arms atop the railing and leaning forward. “Exactly. Parties aren’t really my scene. My friend, Taehyung, dragged me out here but this balcony seems to be my favourite place.”
“Well, if it means anything,” You tell him, “I’m glad you came.”
When you look at Jungkook, you find him already gazing at you, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. His carob eyes crinkle with the smile on his face and he finds himself still staring at you even long after you have turned away to stare up at the sky. It’s a surprisingly warm night, though you silently thank yourself for throwing on the denim jacket you’re wearing earlier in the day whenever a cool breeze breaks through the city.
“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” You say after a while. “That we can’t see the stars from the city. That’s why I like camping. Star-gazing and watching the sunrise are two of my favourite things. It kind of keeps me humble in a way.”
“That’s an interesting way of thinking about that,” Jungkook says. “Sometimes I get so carried away by being in the city; it’s kind of nice just to slow things down once in a while.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way,” You crane your neck to cast a steady gaze across the towering buildings in the near distance. “The city can be pretty beautiful, too, though.”
“You think so?”
“Of course,” Your eyes twinkle playfully at a sudden thought that seems to warm your face. “And some of the people help make it beautiful. Like that spider guy. What he’s doing for the city is incredible.”
“Ah, right. Spider-Man.” The words leave Jungkook in a small exhale. “You must really like him, huh?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I can name a few. Like the police.”
“They’re just scared of him because he’s doing their job better than they ever could.”
Jungkook chuckles lightly. He shakes his head as he looks down at his clasped hands and the calluses on his fingers from past tribulations. It’s silent again, in which time the thump of bass from the party ensuing behind you two fills the air, followed by a burst of vigorous chanting and cheering from within.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks suddenly, his voice timid.
“Go ahead.”
Jungkook pauses, thinking. He seems to struggle with forming his thoughts into words as he remains silent for a second too long. “Okay, let’s say I know this person really important to me, and let’s say I have this thing ━ this equally as important thing ━ that I really want to tell them. The thing is, I can’t just do that because if I do, I’m afraid that this person will be let down. What do you think I should do?”
You’re quiet as you ponder his words, looking pensively down at the city below.
“Well,” You hum slowly, “what’s the point in hiding behind a fake front the whole time? It’s kind of like hiding behind a mask your whole life, right? And I think life is too short for that because, before you know it, it’ll be too late. What if you don’t tell this person and you end up regretting it for the rest of your life? I don’t know. Sometimes I think that you just meet the right person in life who’s worth that risk.”
Jungkook turns to look at you and suddenly your eyes meet in a steady, thoughtful gaze. His own stare softens at whatever sort of thoughts flood his mind and you wonder if his eyes have always been that shimmering. His tousled dark brown locks flitter slightly in the breeze, his pink lips parted ever so slightly. You open your mouth to speak, uttering his name in a euphonious whisper.
“Jungkook, I━”
But your voice is cut off abruptly by the influx sound of wailing sirens down below that convey some sort of grim situation unfolding somewhere in the formidable darkness of the night. Both you and Jungkook press yourselves over the railing, squinting down at the crowded streets below just in time to see a flash of blinking red lights and a mass of both police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks. From somewhere in the background from within the party, you can hear a voice exclaiming, “Dude, there’s a fire around the corner from here! The whole street is blocked off.”
“No way. What the hell happened?” Another voice asks.
You exchange a wary glance with Jungkook before slipping back into the party. A small group has formed around the t.v. in the living room, on which is playing the local news and showcasing a burning apartment building, the vicious orange flames of which billow out of opened windows and all but consume the top floor as clouds of gray and black smoke invade the night sky. There’s a reporter talking fast into the camera, describing in detail what had happened to the building on a nearby street, but your eyes can only stay fixated on the monstrous flames. You don’t realize Taehyung has somehow found both you and his friend and is standing behind the other boy, watching the news unfold before him. Unbeknownst to you, his stare flickers nervously to Jungkook and then━
“Shit,” Jungkook curses suddenly. “I gotta go.”
You turn to look at him curiously. “Go where? It’s midnight on a Friday.”
“I completely forgot I had to pick my aunt up from the subway,” he says. “She works the late night shifts and I can’t let her walk alone in the dark like this. I’ll see you both later! Let me know what happens with the fire.”
Taehyung, who seems more than accustomed to Jungkook’s abrupt pardon of his presence, nods. “Will do.”
The boy is already a few feet away from you, rushing toward the front door of the room, but you stop him before he can slip out of your reach entirely.
“Wait, Jungkook!” You call out. He spins around to look at you almost immediately, a look of panic on his face. “Don’t forget we have to meet up at the library on Sunday to work on the project.”
“Got it,” he says, raising his two forefingers to his forehead in a mock salute. He turns back around and begins bounding towards the door, giving you two one last wave. “See you later!”
The door slams shut behind him and the party, despite the group crowded around the t.v., carries on in a cacophonous sound of drunken yelling and dumb music, completely and utterly oblivious. You let out a sigh as you turn back to the t.v., noting Taehyung’s presence still beside you. He takes a satisfying sip of whatever beverage is occupying the red cup in his hand and nods.
“That’s Jungkook for you,” he says. His voice is a tired sigh, dispirited almost, as he thinks of the boy that has been his friend since freshman year of highschool. Just before he turns away, you hear him muttering, “Always putting others before him.”
You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.
Whether or not he had entirely blown you off or had simply forgotten, you wait and wait in complete silence in the school library for nearly three hours as every call and every text you send to his phone goes otherwise unnoticed or ignored. It is entirely unlike Jungkook to completely vanish and though you want to be mad, you are more disappointed than anything else. You spend your time at a table by yourself, books and papers sprawled out before you, as you try to work diligently on the last piece of writing you need for the assignment to be complete whilst trying to not let your eyes wander to the time on the clock hanging on the wall opposite you but to no avail.
In a corner above the front desk, you see a t.v. propped on the wall that plays the silent image of the news as they recall the events from that Friday at the burning building. Fortunately, that spider guy had arrived before any casualties could happen and you watch, for the third time since Friday, as the recording footage shows the red and blue hero swinging defiantly into the wall of fire and pulling various residents from the fire. A duo of girls sitting next to you croons dreamily over the masked man, especially as they witness him emerging from the fire with a small and unscathed Corgi dog in his hands that, you admit, is rather admirable.
On Wednesday night, you find yourself stuck in the sparkling confinements of the café bound to the six hour shift you were in the midst of completing. It’s surprisingly busy for a day in the middle of the week, though you assume that’s only because each customer is in a rush to seek refuge from the surprisingly cold evening. You hadn’t even been thinking about Jungkook when he makes himself known in the café some time after 9 p.m. You hear the bell ring above the door, feel a short gust of shocking wind, before it shuts behind him. When you look up instinctively to greet the newcomer and lay your eyes on the boy, your words fall short.
You watch as he stumbles forward, his feet practically dragging behind him in worn up Converse shoes. He looks exhausted ━ even more so than usual ━ and judging by his dishevelled hair and crumpled clothes and the way he seems to walk in a daze as if he is in another world, you assume he hasn’t slept in a while. He still hauls his backpack with one strap slung over his shoulder that he drops lazily to the ground beside a table before he plops himself down into the seat with a groan in one swift motion. What’s most strange are the blossoming bruises on his neck and the fresh cut on the highest point of his left cheekbone.
You hate that you’re so weak for that boy; that even though he completely ignored you, you still pity him. Wondering what sorts of trouble he’s been finding himself in lately, you pour him a cup of steaming black coffee and walk towards his table. He hardly even notices you as his head is buried in his folded arms atop the table, though he peeks up past his bangs when you slide the coffee beside him.
“I’d hate to see the other guy,” You hum.
His eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pushes himself up, raking a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. “Y/N━”
“Where were you, Jungkook?” You ask sternly, suddenly. “On Sunday? I waited for you for over three hours. I called you and texted you and you completely ignored me. You could have at least gotten back to me. I had to finish the rest of the assignment by myself.”
His brow creases with concern, his stare softening apologetically. He leans forward, suddenly helpless.
“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I━I didn’t mean to━ Something came up.”
“Whatever, Jungkook,” You sigh. “It’s fine. I can’t stay and chat but I’ll have you know I already handed the assignment in online. You’re welcome. Oh, and the coffee’s on the house. You look like crap.”
You spin on your heel and march away to help another customer before Jungkook can even try to talk to you. He watches as you slip from his grasp, a frown scrunching up your face that is forced to soften as you approach another table. He collapses against his chair and groans inwardly, rubbing his hand over his aching and swollen face. He knows you’re mad at him but he can’t quite tell if you’ll stay like that for long. He doesn’t blame you anyway, but he couldn’t just tell you where he had gone or what had happened. Could he?
It’s much to his dismay that you don’t talk to him the next day, or on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Thursday. He tries to find you around campus but he is always too late and, instead, finds you slipping away from him each time. He pops into the café a few nights and though you work both nights, it’s still much too busy to actually talk to you and so he, doing what he does best, falls asleep at the table as he silently broods. Whether or not it’s your anger purposely driving you further from him or simply life intervening, Jungkook wants nothing more than to apologize ━ if he can even get close enough to you to do so.
Finding yourself on the rooftop of your apartment building isn’t uncommon. Most of your free time is spent up there, either watching the night sky or gazing at the busy city under a cerulean blue sky and golden sun. That Friday night is no different. With no homework and no social gathering to devote yourself to, you sneak off to the roof and position yourself in just a spot where you can see the towering buildings of each borough in each direction you cast your gaze. You would have been content falling asleep up there, with nothing but the sound of the distant hum of cars to lull you and the view of the moon and window lights that act as the metropolis’s stars.
You all but lose track of time, unaware of whether or not you have been there for minutes or hours but you don’t entirely mind. You would be lying, too, if you denied that there was some sort of inkling of hope in you that hoped maybe you would see him again. That is why when you hear the soft plop of feet dropping to the ground moments later, you are not at all startled by the sudden presence, though you are astounded by his arrival, as if on cue. You don’t even need him to speak to know who it is and when you feel the smile ghost along your lips, there is a moment of pause where you question your own sanity for being so happy to see this masked and mysterious man. But he isn’t at all a mystery at this point when you feel as if you’ve acquainted yourself with him well enough.
“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” The voice that drifts through the shadows of the roof is familiar, gentle. “It’s dark. Who knows who could come up here?”
“Yeah,” You snort. “Wouldn’t want any strangers sneaking up on me ━ or masked vigilantes who seem to be following me.”
You turn to look at him but are greeted with nothing except emptiness. He lingers somewhere in the darkness and you squint your eyes, desperately trying to spot him. He laughs, the sound so silvery and smooth like honey.
“Someone’s following you?” he replies tauntingly. “Do I have to deal with them again?”
“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”
The sudden question seems to cause him to hesitate. It’s silent before you hear his voice wander over to you.
“To add to the mystique?” he says.
“Now that’s suspicious. Maybe I should call the police on you.”
“They would never be able to catch me.”
“Someone’s cocky,” You take a step toward the darkness, in the direction of the sound of his voice. “Did the fame get to you already?”
You hear him take a step back from you and it, subsequently, causes you to linger. You wait before stubbornly pushing yourself forward once more.
“What fame? People want to lock me up.”
“And most people are in love with you. I overheard a few girls gushing over you saving that dog from that burning building the other day,” You giggle. “Does it mean anything to you?”
“Ah, well,” You can hear the grin in his voice, can see the silhouette of his figure not too far from you, “I gotta admit the attention is pretty nice. But no one knows who I am without this mask so it doesn’t really matter.”
“How does that make you feel?”
One step forward, another backward. You pause; at this rate, you’ll have chased him all the way to the other side of the roof.
“I don’t mind. It keeps me humble,” he replies. “But it also stops me a lot of the time, y’know? With this mask on, I feel invincible; with it off, I feel useless. But someone pretty important to me once told me that life is too short to constantly hide behind a mask.”
A wide, genuine smile stretches across your face. You take another step forward and this time he stands still. From where you are, you can see the tall and lean figure, adorned in the signature tight red and blue suit.
“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”
“She is pretty admirable. Much braver than I could ever be without this mask.”
He turns around from you before you can reach him. You watch as he casually strides forward a few paces to the barrier behind him, which he props his hands against to lean on. He seems to be lost in thought, perhaps struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. You tiptoe in suit, cautious as you approach him. You can see the muscles that strain from beneath his suit, the heave and fall of his chest.
“Can I know your name?” Your voice is a gentle whisper that carries to him with the wind. “Your real name?”
When he turns around to face you once more, you’re standing only a few feet away from him. You take another step forward, closing the short distance between the two of you and are made aware of how much taller he really is. The way he towers over you is almost comforting, familiar, that no emotionless red mask could cause you to stray. He’s so much more different up close in that suit. He hesitates before he forces himself to speak.
“I think,” he pauses. He swallows thickly, attempting to subdue the quickening race of his heart as he clamps his fingers into his sweaty palms. “I think you already know my name.”
This seems to pique your interest. Quirking a brow and cocking your head to the side, you stare up at the masked face that gazes back down at you. You aren’t entirely sure what compels you to do so, as it could be a complete disaster and not at all what you are expecting, but you slowly, so very slowly, reach up with your hands to grasp gingerly at his face. The red fabric beneath your fingertips is soft and as your digits brush lightly over his covered cheekbones, he hardly moves. For some reason, you can feel your heart hammering against your feeble chest, can hear it in your ears in tandem with the sound of passing traffic down below. His heart is beating just as fast, though he thinks it nearly stops when he feels your fingers begin to gently pull at the neck of his mask, sliding it upward.
The first poke of tanned skin has your heart quickening, your breath hitching in your throat. You tug the mask the rest of the way off and, finally, step back to look at the mysterious masked hero known as Spider-Man.
Jungkook.
It’s Jungkook.
The familiar boy stands before you, his hair a disheveled mess from the mask, his doe eyes even wider now in timid fear as he looks down at you. Everything is him, from his luscious pink lips, to the freckle on his neck, the piercings in his ears, that tiny scar he’s had since he was a child on his cheek. The city lights and moon illuminate him from behind and he seems nervous as he anticipates a reaction but you are much too busy admiring him. Your fingers trace delicately over the fresh scar on his face that he had brandished at the café only a few nights ago. A breath of satisfaction slips past your parted lips and then you’re laughing silently to yourself.
The boy looks dumbfounded at first, and then he quirks a brow. “What’s so funny?”
“I knew it,” You shake your head at nothing in particular, or perhaps the way you continue to giggle.
Jungkook suddenly looks shocked, though he instantly seems to relax. He studies the smile that stretches across your cheeks in awe, brightening your face in all its glory. “How did you know?”
“Well, you’re not exactly that smooth, Jungkook,” You grin. “The late nights coming into the café, always scratched up and always tired as if you’ve ran all over the city; always getting jumpy when you hear police sirens ━ like the night at the party. Not to mention that one time at the café when the news was on and they were talking about a robbery at the bank and hostages being held and you ran right out of there only for Spider-Man to show up on the scene minutes later. It’s all very suspicious, don’t you think?”
He can’t help the laugh that escapes him, a joyous sound of content. He leans against the palm of your hand that is cradling the side of his face with the scar.
“Right,” he sighs. “All very suspicious.”
His stare locks with yours in a steady gaze and neither of you can turn away. His eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky, lingering with it a sense of hope and content. He is mesmerizing, with the city he devotes his time to saving in the horizon beyond him. It’s near impossible to look away, but why would you want to? It happens much like a blink of an eye, a frail beat of your heart; it comes with the passing of a car whizzing by on the streets down below and is as much startling as the sudden breeze that sends chills down your spine.
He begins to lean forward ━ or maybe that was you? Your eyes flutter shut, your anticipation held with a deep breath, until finally your lips meet with his though you hardly have time to relish in it. Almost as soon as your lips touch, he’s pulling away quickly. He doesn’t move too far and his mouth lingers just over yours. His eyes remain fixated on the curl of your lips for a moment too long before he rips them away to meet your hazy gaze.
“Wait,” he hums. “You━ You said you were crushing on Spider-Man. Does that mean you knew this whole time and━ and like me?”
The question is so like Jungkook; so innocent and silly and genuine that it causes a sweet giggle to bubble at your lips. He’s always been so oblivious to these kinds of things and so maybe that’s what pushes you to kiss him next. Your lips lock for a second time and, though it is just as fleeting, you note with joy the softness of his mouth as it folds over yours. You part from him with a breathless gasp, your nose brushing lightly against his as a smile stretches across your face.
“What do you think, bugboy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a playful taunt that makes Jungkook smile wide.
He kisses you this time, slow and passionate as if attempting to pour every single one of his emotions and thoughts for you into the single intimate action. His hands grasp at either side of your face, carefully pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss and you, instinctively, melt against his broad chest. Your fingers trail up the lean muscle of his arms to twine in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging with yearning. His hands fall to your waist, enveloping you in his body, and when he parts from you, he rests his forehead against yours.
“Can I show you something?”
You nod. His eyes light up and then he’s jumping up onto the cement barrier behind him, turning around to look at you. You gasp from the sudden movement, your stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him quite literally standing on the edge of a building only to remind yourself he’s Spider-Man. He’s done plenty more reckless things than this. He holds his hand out, a reassuring smile on his face.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
There’s no hesitation as you answer him with another firm nod. “Of course. Always.”
“Then take my hand,” he says. “I’ll never do anything to harm you, you know that.”
You do know that. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt a fly; he’s too good and precious for the world you live in and he says yes far too often to people who most likely don’t deserve it, but he knows when to stand up for not only himself but others as well. You are just one of the few he cares for wholeheartedly and you know that.
You reach out carefully and place your hand in his surprisingly cold and large ones. His fingers wrap around yours as he helps you up onto the barrier, holding you closely toward him.
You take a deep breath, shut your eyes, and put every ounce of your trust into this single, courageous boy ━ and you let yourself fall with him.
You’re roused awake by the sound of light tapping against your bedroom window.
It startles you at first, causing you to jolt upright into a sitting position as you look around frantically at your empty and dark room; the only light comes from the city life and the moon outside, shedding a warm glow onto the floor before it. For a moment, you think you had just dreamt the noise but then you hear it again, low and near. You crane your neck to look and first see a shadow but, as the figure shifts into view, you’re able to see the familiar young man in red and blue. Your heart leaps in your chest and suddenly you’re scrambling off your feet, throwing yourself at the window to throw it open.
The night Jungkook had admitted to being Spider-Man and jumped up onto the edge of the roof, holding his hand out to you in a silent question of trust, he leaves you with a night that you swear you will cherish forever. Wary of where he will go but entirely consenting of his spontaneity, he surprises you by carrying you throughout the city, swinging from building to building in an extraordinary feat that feels as if you’re flying; and, as if that hadn’t been a big enough thrilling shock, he brings you to the very top of the Empire State Building, just under the antenna. No one is there and no one can see you and, with Jungkook under the brightening sky with the view of New York stretching out into the horizon before you, you feel as if you have the whole world in the very palm of your hand.
You sit with Jungkook that night, talking, not talking, listening intently to him as he recounts the tale of how he had turned into the masked hero with his peculiar powers, and watching the sunrise from beyond the very tops of buildings and skyscrapers. There are no words to describe the breathtaking view from one of the highest points in the city, watching as the golden sun peaks over the horizon and sets the city ablaze in saturated warm hues of orange, pink, and purple, mingling together in one impressionistic masterpiece that could put even the greatest of painters to shame. The light reflects against the glass panes of windows in a mirage similar to flickering flames that never scathe the city, but instead seem to enhance the beauty it holds.
You never want the night to end but eventually it does and, when he returns you to your bedroom window with one parting kiss, it and Jungkook’s lips are all you can dream about.
A week has passed since then, in which time you’ve done nothing but find yourself growing closer with Jungkook. He’s all you’ve been able to think about these days. So, to hear him and see him at your window is enough to make butterflies form in the very pit of your stomach. You see him sitting on the fire escape just outside your window, leaning against the building looking even more exhausted than usual. Another fresh cut lines his cheek in a stripe of red though he doesn’t seem to mind much for it as he dozes off slightly. You push open the window, startling him awake, and poke your head outside. A weary smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you.
“Well, this is romantic,” You stifle the giggle that bubbles at your mouth. “Thank you for not throwing rocks at my window, Romeo. To what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you at two in the morning?”
“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.”
His response earns a shy smile stretching across your face. “No, you didn’t wake me,” You say with a shake of your head (though the way you comb your fingers through your mused hair tells him otherwise). “What happened to your face, Jungkook?”
He reaches up to his face, as if momentarily forgetting the cut, winces, and then drops his hand from his face. He grins wolfishly, attempting to shrug it off. “Oh, this little thing? It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I just got caught up in a little fight but I’m fine. I swear. You really should see the other guy.”
The smug tone in his voice as he rambles on makes you stare at him in amusement. You sigh as you take a step back, saying, “Come inside. I’ll clean that for you.”
“Well, if you insist.”
He smirks as he pulls himself through the window and into your room. His eyes wander around the four walls, noting the decor that lines it, the shelves with all your personal trinkets and belongings, the clothes littered on the floor, and the empty take-out box of Chinese food that rests atop your desk. There’s a soft aroma of something sweet that smells like you ━ possibly a perfume or a soap or shampoo? ━ and it makes Jungkook’s head spin pleasantly. He asks about your day and then sits on the bed and, as you tell him about your boring classes as you rummage around your bathroom for something to clean his wound with, he smiles.
He finds your room comforting ━ or maybe he just finds your presence comforting. Either way, over time you find that this would only be a common occurrence throughout the next month. He startles you the first few times he shows up but then you begin to stay awake a little longer, waiting eagerly by the window as you wait for him to arrive. Most times he’s bruised or has small and fresh cuts, of which you either hand him an ice packet or clean the cut; sometimes he isn’t even hurt and instead claims simply that he just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. But each time he listens to you and your day, asking about yourself rather than him and no matter how hard you try to pry information out of him about what had possibly happened to him throughout his night, he swiftly brushes it off. You don’t mind either way ━ you just want to see him as much as you can, anyway.
There is one night, however, where things seem to go entirely different.
You’re curled up in bed reading a book when you hear the light tapping on your window. You’ve come to leave the window pried open slightly as you wait for him, but even so he still takes the time to knock to signal his arrival. You instantly climb to your feet, wandering over to the window and tossing it open with a flourish. As Jungkook climbs in through the small space, you note the tight suit he’s wearing is slashed at the top of his arm and both the skin underneath it and on his face is bruised and cut; other than that, and judging by the cheeky smile on his face, he seems to be ok.
You shake your head at him, smiling gingerly as you muse, “Who’s the damsel in distress now, bugboy?”
Jungkook smirks, prodding your sides with his fingers and causing you to squirm as you walk past him. “There’s no shame in needing a little help every once and awhile, right? I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Sit down,” You tell him, winking up at him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Minutes later you return to sit by his side on the bed, cleaning his cuts as per usual and, while he has a frozen packet of peas pressed to his bruised and sore shoulder, you are busying yourself by sewing the cut in his suit with blue thread you had found in your room. In the midst of your work, perhaps you press too generously down on his recent wound, as he winces slightly and shifts on top of your bed. You crane your neck to look up at him, studying him curiously. He seems to notice your stare and quirks a brow as he looks down at you.
“What’s up?”
Your fingers stop their work on his suit and, remembering where the cut had broken his skin just slightly underneath the tear, brush lightly over the tender flesh covered in gauze. “Does it hurt?”
Jungkook shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Hurt? No, no, of course not. It just, uh━ It isn’t the most pleasant. But this isn’t the worst I’ve been after a night in the suit so I can handle it.”
Your eyes study his battered face in some sort of admiration, albeit mixed with timid nervousness. What sort of things had he encountered, had he been through, that he won’t tell you?
“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.
“No way,” he shakes his head, but not before you spot the confident grin he flashes you. “It’s honestly nothing I can’t handle by now. It’s not so bad, either. It’s kinda weird. I mean, ever since getting bitten, I’ve found the healing process is a whole lot faster.”
Maybe he notices the lingering uneasiness in your eyes, the way you seem to doubt him. He reaches out with his fingers to gingerly brush against the side of your face in a swift flourish as he tilts your head a little higher. He smiles something warm that makes your heart melt as you lean your face against the palm of his calloused hand. To avoid the prying stare he gives you, you smile lightly and shake your head, attempting to change the subject.
“Dunno, bugboy. Are there any perks to this job?”
Jungkook snorts as you finish sewing his suit. As you discard the needle and leftover thread, he says, “There are. Like, for instance, knowing the city is a little safer. Then there’s the fact that Spider-Man seems to have a lot of admirers…”
“I thought you said it doesn’t matter anyway because no one knows who you are.”
“Well, there is you,” he says. “And I gotta say you’re a pretty good perk.”
A blush tinges your cheeks as you sit across from him. Your eyes flicker down the suit that adorns him and you try to bite back the lighthearted snicker that bubbles at your chest. “I was gonna say a perk is this tight suit. At least, for me it is. Your ass has never looked more fantastic.”
Jungkook suddenly bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. When he looks back at you, his hand finds the side of your face once more and pulls you towards him. With your lips hovering just over his, he mumbles something, anything, just for the sake of responding despite already being lost in you.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then you’re kissing him.
You’ve come to find that Jungkook’s lips are entirely irresistible and the more you kiss him, the more you wonder why you hadn’t confessed to him earlier. He’s gentle as he lets his lips fold over yours, mouth dancing with mouth in a passionate yearning. But there’s a certain type of underlying insatiable hunger that seems to wash over both you and him and fast. Your fingers rake up the side of his face and tangle in his messy locks and soon he’s pulling you onto the bed, onto him. You instinctively straddle his lap, craning your neck so as to deepen the kiss, never once breaking apart for air. But something seems to happen, something that startles Jungkook so deeply. Perhaps it’s the way you grasp his hair a little tighter, the way he heard you gasp when he bites down gently on the side of your jaw, the way your hips fit over his; or perhaps it’s the way you tug off your shirt in an attempt to get closer to him, displaying to him the plain white bra you’re wearing that all culminate into something more. He knows where this is going, you know where this is going ━ and though Jungkook would want nothing more than to carry on, he’s reminded of a terrifying and prominent thought that has always haunted him the moment he made that mask.
You feel the way he tenses beneath you and, in the next quick second, he’s pulling apart from you and you, so dazed and lost, gasping for air, stare down at him dumbfounded.
“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You ask. “Did I hurt you? Is your arm okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says weakly.
You grin as you press another kiss to his throat, mumbling into his neck, “Good, then let’s━”
“No.”
“What?”
You sit back on his lap suddenly, staring at him with a flushed face. Your hair is mussed messily, a red bruise blossoms on your jawline that Jungkook had graced you with, and one strap of your bra hangs daintily over your shoulder and Jungkook can’t help but notice how utterly sexy you look. He groans inwardly, tearing his gaze to look up at you. He swallows thickly, wincing at the bright and innocent twinkle in your eyes.
“We━” he pauses and then says, “We can’t do this.”
You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he says slowly, carefully, “we can’t do this. I’m━ I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking but I should have stopped this sooner.”
“Stop what?” Your voice is weak, small. You know what he’s referring to but you don’t want to believe it just yet.
Fuck, I can’t do this, Jungkook curses to himself. If he had just stayed away from you from the beginning, this wouldn’t even be happening. He wouldn’t be about to hurt you or himself.
“Us,” he whispers. “There can’t be an us, Y/N.”
Your brows knit together in confusion but your eyes are wide with fear. “What are you talking about? How can there not be an us? I thought━ I thought you wanted this.”
When he hesitates to respond, you’re quick to slide off of his lap, standing to your feet. Suddenly you’re panicking, embarrassed. He sees the way your lips are pulled tightly in a thin line, the way you rake your hands through your hair, mumbling, “Oh my god,” as you search for a shirt. Jungkook springs to his feet, grasping onto your waist but you easily slither out of his reach, clutching your shirt to your chest. To you, you think you have just made a fool of yourself, nearly striping naked for a boy who apparently doesn’t want you. Jungkook knows this is what you’re thinking and it pains him so.
“No, no, I do,” he says. “I do want this! I just can’t do it.”
“And why not?” You snap hotly. “You’re not making any sense. Either you do or you don’t want us to be a thing.”
“It’s not that simple━”
“It sure seems like it is.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Any explanation would be better than none,” You say firmly, “and simultaneously making me look like an idiot for looking so eager.”
Jungkook sighs heavily. He takes a step back from you, running both hands frustratedly through his hair, letting the muscles in his biceps flex as he does so. When he looks back at you, he’s solemn.
“There can’t be an us because I’m just gonna put you in danger this way,” he says. “People are out there looking for me! Not just the police, but hardcore criminals, gangs, thugs, murderers. If they find me, or if they find out that you’re close to me or know me, they’ll hurt you too. I can’t have that, Y/N.”
“But I can handle it,” You insist.
“I can’t,” Jungkook’s voice is stern, set in place. “I can’t have that on my conscience, knowing that if you get hurt, it’s because of me. That’s all I ever worry about, from the second that I put this mask on. No one knows about me being Spider-Man and I kept it that way for a reason. Don’t you think I could have flaunted that I was this supposed super cool new hero? I didn’t do that because of you; because of the people that I’m close to.”
“I don’t care,” Your voice is feeble, cracking. “I don’t care if I get hurt. If you can handle it, then so can I! I just want to be with you, Jungkook. I━ I love you━”
Jungkook hears the words you blurt out quickly but he doesn’t seem to necessarily register them at once. A stiff silence settles in the room between the two of you, an undeniable form of the point of no return, except you don’t regret the words you say. You mean them wholeheartedly because you have always admired and loved Jungkook, from the little boy next door to this young hero before you. You stare at him shyly, albeit unwavering. A panic washes over him, drains his face of any colour, and suddenly it feels as if he can’t breathe, his chest concaving in on his shrill heart. As the words begin to register in his mind, he can only sorrowfully gaze at you; but the lack of silence has your confidence paling and soon you’re looking away, shaking your head. A pained expression paints your features and though it hurts Jungkook more than any other wound that has been inflicted upon him in fights on the street prior to this, he knows he has to do this.
You already know his answer before he even speaks it. When he does say the final words that leave you in such an excruciating and unbearable pain, he has already fled, grabbing his mask and escaping out of the window, escaping from you, and into the heart of the city. When he’s gone and you’re alone in the thick silence do his words finally return to you and are the cause of the broken heart you are forced to nurse through muddled tears over the aimless days to come:
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
You don’t see Jungkook the next day or the day after that.
In fact, you don’t see him for three entire weeks. He stops showing up at the café late at night, stops attending the classes he has with you (or maybe he just blends well into the other somber looking faces), stops visiting your window in the early morning hours. Autumn bleeds numbly into the beginning shock of cold that is winter and, though there is no snow yet, you still feel the wrath of the frigid season. And, with the sudden loss of Jungkook, comes the abrupt and unwarranted disappearance of Spider-Man. Maybe it is your fault, maybe it is Jungkook’s fault. Either way, the masked enigma vanishes without a trace after your argument with Jungkook and the city’s crime, now freed from the vigilant watchful eyes of New York’s hero, spikes.
It feels almost as if the city has swallowed him whole or as if he has dropped off the face of the earth and the only thing to remember him by is the sudden havoc that ensues the city. The only thing you have to even know if Jungkook is still alive are the occasional updates from Taehyung who comes to befriend you if only to mention Jungkook every once and awhile just for the sake of easing your worried mind. You’re not so much mad as you are upset, but you care entirely more for his own wellbeing and to not hear from him causes you agony.
There is only one brisk moment in which you encounter Jungkook and it comes simply from a happenstance. You are not at all expecting to see him and nor is he expecting to see you. Rather, you are seated on a wooden bench in the park just beside your school on a day graced with a strange warmth for winter. Wrapped in a scarf and knit hat, you are flipping through the pages of a book for one of your classes when a figure stands before you, momentarily blocking the sun’s light from your view. As you glance up at the shadow cast over you, you are genuinely surprised to find Jungkook standing there. He looks, perhaps, even more so dishevelled than usual, his hair and attire all one negligent mess as if he couldn’t even find the strength to care for himself. Dark circles line his sunken eyes which stare down at you sorrowfully.
“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”
Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can’t turn away from him. For a moment, you fear that you will cave into him but then you are reminded of your broken heart. It’s what causes you to act in such haste, shaking your head up at him as you shut your book and shove it into your bag. You stand to your feet and brush past him and he, so caught up in your rejection of him and the own twinge of pain he feels in his heart, lingers by the bench. Then, he is walking after you, his footsteps swiftly catching him up to you.
“Y/N. Y/N, wait! Please, just let me━”
Jungkook breaks out into a sudden jog and only stops when he is standing in front of you. With your path blocked, you, too, come to a halt if only for the benefit of the doubt. He desperately tries to meet your eyes but you look past him, arms folded over your chest.
“Let me talk to you,” he begs. “Away from here. Just you and me. I can explain everything. I━”
“You had your chance, Jungkook,” You quip dryly. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”
“I wasn’t━ I didn’t mean to━” he tries, but is interrupted once more by your strained voice.
“You left me.” Now you are staring at him and Jungkook wishes that you hadn’t even bothered to give him the chance. Once full of shimmering admiration, your eyes are only glossed over with a pained disappointment. “I told you I loved you and you left me. You made me look so stupid and I━ No. No, I’m not doing this right now.”
You push yourself forward, walking carefully around him. He watches as you storm away, shaking your head to yourself. With one last despairing attempt, he calls out to you once more.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I let you down. I know. I’m a failure.”
You stop. Your back is turned to him before you force yourself to look over at him and he foolishly thinks that maybe you’ll give him a chance to properly explain himself. Instead━
“You’re not a failure, Jungkook,” You tell him firmly. “I just━ I need to be alone right now. But don’t leave them. Don’t let them down. The city needs you.”
Jungkook flinches. He wants to call out to you again and pull you back to him, explain everything that is on his mind, but he can’t. Instead, he is forced to watch you walk away from him until you disappear amongst the crowd and even then he doesn’t move. He knows you’re disappointed with him.
He knows the whole city is disappointed with him ━ but the only person he wants to impress is you and he fears he’s ruined his only chance to.
You hardly seem to sleep at night anymore, instead too caught up in the thoughts that plague your dreams. Instead of going to the roof as you usually do when you can’t sleep, you find yourself lying helplessly in your bed, staring up at the empty night sky through your window. One night, as you’re dozing off on your bed, your eyes blinking wearily as they try to focus on the shimmering moon, you begin to hear a noise. It’s similar to a light tapping, though it drowns out in the sound of a siren from somewhere down below. At first you believe you have just dreamt it but then you hear a loud thud, slightly muffled from somewhere outside your window. It jolts you awake, has you pushing yourself up into a sitting position, and glancing around your room for any sign of something that may have fallen in there before noticing a flash of movement from the corner of your eye.
Red and blue.
Interest piques your drowsy mind at the thought of it being Jungkook but why would he be returning to you now? You would have been entirely set on begrudgingly flopping back down onto your bed and turning your back to him had you not felt that dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong. You can’t hear his voice and when you turn to get a better look, you find him standing on the fire escape just outside your window, slumped dangerously against the wall with his back to you. It is that dreaded feeling that pushes you out of your bed, drags you to your window which you lightly throw open, only to be met with a sight that leaves you in horrific shock.
Jungkook is adorned in his usual tight red and blue suit, though his mask is off and gives you a clear view of his weary face, now muted in colour, that your eyes land on first. His eyes are shut, his head rests against the brick wall of the building, and his skin is marked with dirt and grime, bruises and dried blood. As your eyes trail lower, following the curve of his arms to his hands that cradle his side, you finally spot the large wound from beneath his fingertips on the left of his abdomen, shimmering a bright crimson red. Immediately your heart sinks to your stomach as you gasp loudly.
“Oh my god! Jungkook!”
Shimmying your way through the window to get closer to the boy hardly has him stirring. Your hands come out to grasp at his face, forcing him from his slouched position.
“Jungkook, can you hear me? What the hell happened?”
His eyes flicker open momentarily at the touch of your warm fingers and he musters a small smirk, the corners of his lips lifting up just slightly.
“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbles hoarsely. “You should definitely see the other guy now.”
“You’re an idiot,” You grumble, your eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Why are you here? You should have gone to the hospital! I’m taking you right now━”
“No, no,” he protests stubbornly. He shifts his weight and immediately flinches from the pain. “No, you can’t. I’ll be okay. I just━ I need some time to rest.”
A deep sigh exhales past your parted lips at the mention of what had happened the night he fled so suddenly. Instead, you brush off the memory and give him a small shake of your head. “Here, stop talking. Let me help you get inside and I’ll see what I can do for you. This is gonna hurt a bit but can you move?”
Jungkook nods. As you wrap your arm carefully around his waist to shift him over to the window, he sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself forward. You try to help as he stiffly climbs in through the small window, grunting in pain as he does so, and then stumbling into your room and bumping into your desk next to the window, knocking a few trinkets down. As he leans dangerously against your now skewed desk, you hurry through the window and help him to his feet, pulling him over to your bed.
Despite the way he had left you so suddenly days ago, there is no air of stiffness in the room. The only thing that surrounds the two of you is a melancholic silence as you rummage around your room for the medkit you knew you had stowed away eons ago. For the most part, Jungkook patches himself up, downing a couple of painkillers, cleaning his wound in his abdomen and stitching it closed with a steady hand that has evidently done this before. You sit across from him in your desk chair, watching him intently as he sits on your bed, having shrugged off the top part of his suit and leaving his torso exposed. Other than the blood and dirt that cakes his golden skin, you take note of the toned muscles that make his abs and the way they flex in tandem with every time he winces as he tugs at his wound.
When he’s done, the silence is still unmoving. Jungkook wants to speak but his throat is dry and any time he dares open his mouth to say something, anything, he immediately recoils. It’s only when you’re helping him into your bathroom so he can take a shower does he finally gather the courage he needed all this time without his mask on. Before you can turn to walk away on him, he catches your attention by calling your name. When he speaks next, his voice is faint, terrified.
“I’m sorry.”
He gulps when you turn to look up at him and suddenly he’s made aware of the fact that the two of you are cramped so closely together in your small bathroom. It makes the shame he feels more prominent as he looks you in the eyes.
“You were the first person I could think of when this happened,” he says. “I━ I know I have no right to be here after what I did to you but I just needed someone. I needed you.”
Your heart flutters at his words though you hide this feeble act by turning away from him. “It’s whatever, Jungkook,” He hears you mumble faintly, your back to him. “Anything I can do to help.”
He wants to say something more but he hesitates again. He watches as you take a deep breath, the heave of your shoulders under a heavy weight, before you ultimately walk out of the door and shut it behind you, leaving it slightly ajar. You linger in your bedroom, standing in front of your window as you gaze out, absentmindedly gnawing on your lower lip as you fold your arms tighter around your torso. You hear the shower switch on, let the calming sound of falling water wash over you, and shut your eyes momentarily. You can still see the light from the bathroom pouring out into the darkness of your room from the angled door, and can see the steam start to cloud the mirror.
There’s something so indistinctly intimate about having him in your shower in the next room over after days of avoiding one another. You have every right to be enraged and upset with him and yet you aren’t. You can’t bring yourself to ever hate the boy in the room over. You understand why he left so abruptly and it makes sense but now, in that moment in time, with nothing but a wall dividing you two, there is a certain type of craving you can’t subdue. A craving and a yearning to be closer to him; to tell him how you feel before, if even, he decides to flee in the morning after.
You blame it on your stubbornness that pushes you forward. Really, it seems to happen in such a haze, a rush of adrenaline. One moment, you’re standing by the window; in the next moment, you’re by the bathroom door, your fingers clutching the handle. As you push it open, you can only see a misty silhouette of Jungkook’s figure from beyond the steamed glass doors of the shower. Your heart is hammering against your chest as you walk to the shower, slowly kicking off your shorts as you go.
Jungkook must hear you as you make your way into the bathroom because as soon as you carefully slide open the glass door, he’s already staring at you with a lack of surprise, noting the baggy t-shirt you wear and the way his heart flips when he imagines you in a similar shirt of his. You only meet his curious eyes, noting the water that trickles down his toned and glistening body and flattens his usual unkempt hair into his lashes. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and suddenly he looks remorseful. It’s almost as if he can read your mind and anticipates every second you take to just step inside, his eyes beckoning you to come. It’s not like he cares; in fact, he wants you next to him. God, he just wants you so bad.
Steady hands find the hem of your baggy white t-shirt that you lift up and over your head, exposing the smooth expanse of your bare stomach and the perk of your bare breasts. You shimmy out of your baby pink underwear and, suddenly, you’re standing completely vulnerable before him and yet this is all he wants and all you want. You step inside the shower, closing the distance between you and him even more until you’re right in front of him, letting the warm water pour down onto you. It’s become stifling hot in that little space and there’s only a split moment where you fear you’ve made a mistake before you feel Jungkook’s hand come up to gently hold the side of your face. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes gazing into yours, and then he’s kissing you.
It’s a soft kiss, one where he takes his time to thoroughly enjoy it, first kissing your upper lip, then your lower lip in some sort of sensual manner that leaves chills running down your spine. He leaves a trail of warm and wet kisses from your jawline to your neck, nuzzling his nose against your throat as your breath catches. His hands fall to grasp at your hips, yanking you toward him and you so easily comply, melting completely into his broad chest and immediately feeling a sense of warmth as if you’ve always belonged there, wrapped up in his strong arms.
“You’re blushing,” he remarks gently, making you realize he’s pulled apart from you to study your face. His fingers brush away the hair that falls into your eyes and he smiles. “You’re blushing now after you walked in on me naked? God, you’re so cute.”
You whine something in protest, burying your face in his neck and he laughs. His fingers tickle at your sides, causing you to squirm in his grip, and when you look at him again, his stare is tender and fond.
“Come here,” he mumbles.
You let him pull you into another kiss that has your head spinning. His tongue grazes your lower lip, teeth slightly nibbling down on the flesh in a way that jolts your heart. As your hands snake up his chest to wind with the hair at the nape of his neck, your own mouth parts open, letting his tongue twine with yours in a heated kiss. He can feel everything against his own body, from the perk of your breasts to the slope of your hips. His hands slide down to rest upon your lower back and the way he pulls you flush against him, letting you brush against his firm cock, makes your head spin again. It’s what wills you to start grinding your hips against his in a slow pattern that has his breath hitching in his throat, his fingers digging tighter into your skin.
“You’re driving me insane,” his voice is husky as he speaks, smooth as it filters through your ears.
You can’t help but smirk against his mouth. “Likewise.”
“How about we get out of here?” he asks. “The bed seems a hell of a lot more comfortable.”
You nod eagerly, mumbling a small, “Please,” against his luscious lips, too reluctant to pull away. He seems to have trouble, too, as he remains in his spot, even long after he reaches down to turn the water off, his lips still locked with yours. Granted, it gives you time to dry off before he’s hoisting you up with ease, instinctively letting your legs wrap around him. A thought abruptly pops into your head and causes you to gasp, your lips parting from his with a significant pop.
“Jungkook!” You scold. “Be careful! Did you forget about the gaping wound in your side or?”
“I’m fine,” he assures, already swiftly carrying you out of the bathroom and into your room.
“I don’t care what your magical radioactive spider bite does for you,” You retort. “I don’t want to somehow hurt you.”
He laughs in response, a sound that reverberates against his chest and your own torso. He’s already standing by the bed when he carefully lowers you down onto it. He crawls over you, instantly towering over your body as he leans down to chase your lips. In one quick movement, you hook your leg around his waist and, using your hands, shift him over until he’s on his back and you’re cradling his hips. He seems surprised at first, his stare flickering from the navel of your stomach to the soft buds of your breasts. Past the valley of your chest, his eyes fall once more upon yours and he smiles breathlessly, his hair sticking up in tufts.
“Really?”
Your eyes fall to the stitched wound on his side covered in gauze and your fingers brush against it delicately, following the natural curve of his abs. “I’m serious, bugboy. You may be this notorious, unstoppable force out there, but to me you’ll always be Jungkook.”
He pouts. “That doesn’t sound as cool as being Spider-Man.”
“Spider-Man is cool.”
“See? Even you think so. This is why I never told you ━ everyone thinks Spider-Man is cooler than Jungkook.”
A roll of your eyes has him smirking, though the smile is quick to falter when you begin to grind your hips against his, feeling his firm member poke at your thigh. His jaw drops open slightly at the sudden contact, his brows knitting together in slick concentration as his eyes fall to your glistening soft core.
“You didn’t let me finish,” You breathe steadily. “Spider-Man is cool, but Jungkook is cooler. You’ve always been strong and dauntless to me. You’ve always been a hero to me.”
“God,” he moans, “you’re making it really hard to focus on how cute you’re being when I can already feel how wet you are.”
The giggle that slips past your lips only further proves his point. His head rolls back against the pillows beneath him as you continue to slowly grind against him.
“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.
“No, no,” he gasps. “Holy shit, no. We can save the mushy talk for afterwards, right? Please?”
You nod briskly, gulping for air as you feel the burning sensation between your thighs. Your fingers dance down the front of your stomach to the bundle of nerves that you rub at carefully. Jungkook watches intensely as you pleasure yourself before him, feels his own cock hardening at the sight of your fingers gracefully rubbing patterns into your clit, coating your digits with your leaking cum. He writhes beneath you, desperately aware of his own need for you, but god help him if he doesn’t finish watching or helping you get off. He swallows thickly, loosening his dry throat.
“Well, if you’re gonna make me sit here then,” he says, “can you at least let me help?”
“I’m listening.”
“Good,” he grins. “Then come sit on my face.”
He says it so confidently that it has you stuttering in your pace. Your eyes flicker down to his mischievously twinkling eyes and the way he bites on his lower lip. You hardly hesitate at his command, pushing yourself off of his crotch and shuffling yourself forward, tossing one knee over his head so that he’s seated nicely between your thighs. His hands remain on your hips to keep you steady as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, murmuring, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Sit back and relax.”
You do as you're told, letting him pull you carefully down to his face and feeling as he leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh. When his mouth is hovering just over your core, you can feel his warm breath fanning against you and hum in delight, waiting eagerly for his every move. He nudges you closer and closer until you feel that one fell sweep of his tongue against your core, warm and slick as it grazes your folds, immediately sending a shock of white hot pleasure surging through your body. A shocked moan emits from your parted lips in a sound similar to, “Ooh,” that has Jungkook smirking against you.
Suddenly, all you can focus on is him and the way his tongue works so expertly against you, kitten licking at your core until you’re dripping wet in a lewd combination of saliva and your own succulence. You nearly lose your balance the moment he makes contact with you and, with each passing second of immense pleasure, it makes it more difficult to hold on. Your thighs shamelessly squeeze shut (though Jungkook grips lightly onto one of your thighs to shift you apart) and when you feel yourself wobble, breathless and dizzy from the feeling of hot fire burning at your core, your hands fly out to grasp at Jungkook’s carob locks, silky to the touch as they slide out from the seams of your fingers. Admittedly, having Jungkook’s face buried beneath your thighs is a ridiculously hot sight that only spurs your blatant spiral into a panting mess.
“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”
The moan that leaves you is throaty, guttural and Jungkook swears he’s never heard anything sexier. Watching you writhe helplessly above him is all that he needs. As his tongue licks firmly at your clit, he can’t help but reach down to his own hard dick. His fingers wrap delicately around his shaft and he pumps himself slowly, groaning into your womanhood at the thought of your delicious and hot walls wrapped around him. He shuts his eyes as he works in a smooth rhythm against both him and yourself, imagining what it would be like to just have you anyway he wants, imagining your own reactions similar to the ones you’re making now.
“Ah, shit━” You gasp suddenly. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good━”
God, there you go again. His palm squeezes harder against his member at your breathy moans and he swears you’re driving him absolutely mad. To him, this feels so surreal. He’s dreamed of this; he’s dreamed and wanted nothing more innocent than to just fucking hold your hand and yet here you are in such a compromising position with him and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world. The best part about it all is that you make him feel this much bliss, this dizzy, when he’s simply just around you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you.
Your fingers clutch a little tighter at his roots and his eyes snap open. He stares up at your frazzled mess and, with his free hand, presses his fingers against your core in areas that his tongue has yet not reached. He coats his digits in your glistening arousal and coaxed with such ease he’s able to push them past your folds, earning another beautiful moan from you. He curls his finger inside you, stretching your core, flicks his tongue a little harder at your clit, squeezes his own hand tighter around his cock as he desperately jacks himself off to this, to you. He pumps his finger in and out of you in tandem with his own hand around his length, hearing your sweet whimpers and choked moans.
He must curl his finger just right inside of you or maybe it’s the way your sensitive clit begins to throb with each lick he takes or maybe it’s when he joins his tongue with his finger in a dangerous duo but then you jut your hips forward ever so slightly and jerk them back. He’s eating you out with such vigour, such hard passion that you can feel his chin and his nose brush against your core and each contact has you gasping. He pulls apart just enough when he feels you jerk your hips backward again and you’re so caught up in the pure ecstasy that has overcome you that you hardly realize until you hear him speaking, muttering faintly against your folds, “C’mon, baby. Ride my face. Cum for me.”
His only response is a weak sputtering as you try to gasp for air. You don’t need to be told twice at this point as you feel as if you’re chasing after your high. You unabashedly begin rocking your hips against his mouth and fingers. He tilts his head just right so that his nose burrows into your clit, his tongue and digit slipping further within your walls that clench around the thought of having something of girth like Jungkook’s length inside you. Jungkook’s own hand slacks at his pace around his member, his fingers reaching up to dig into your waist and thighs to hold you in place as you continuously rock against him. You’re so close, you can feel the familiar tension start to form in the very pit of your stomach.
“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”
Your voice breaks off into frail croaks, your hands flying out to grab onto the sturdy frame of your bed in front of you as you feel your high approach. Jungkook pulls you harder against his face, letting you grind against him as he burrows into you, completely ravaging you with his mouth until you feel your release take hold of you. It shakes you to the bone, causes you to writhe in pleasure above him as you come to a halt, emitting a loud moan of his name as your hot release leaks onto his chin, coating his mouth in your shimmering cum.
“Fuck, fuck━ Jungkook!” Your nails dig into the bed frame, your teeth sinking into your lower lip and muffling your dulcet moans.
He laps at your core, licking away every last drop of your succulence until your hips twitch away from the sensitivity you feel. When he finally pulls apart from you, he stares up at you from between your thighs with an amused smirk, his hair messily mused from your doing. You muster a faint smile in return as you pant heavily, attempting to calm your shrill heart and he beckons you over. You blissfully clamber back down his torso, once more straddling his hips as you curl up into his chest, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your own mouth and it’s something so gentle, so ardent, that it warms your heart.
“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles between kisses. “Round two?”
Giggling, you part from him momentarily only to reconnect your lips to his jawline, nibbling on the soft skin there. “How about I let you have a turn?”
He quirks a brow in curiosity though he already knows your intentions as your hand flutters down his stomach. He can’t help the moan that slips past his lips as he feels your soft hands grasp firmly at his hardened cock. He feels as if he could practically melt in your hands or explode at any moment and you hadn’t even done anything. His hips instinctively buck into your fist but he shakes his head. He sits up suddenly, startling you in your spot though his hands come out to grasp at your face and hold you in place as he kisses you feverishly.
“How about,” he breathes, nipping at your lower lip, “you let me make love to you right here, right now.”
For a moment, you become carried away with the taste of his lips mingled with your wet arousal that fades away fast. You return the kiss with such zeal, too reluctant to part from him just yet, that when you muster the nerve to lean away, you’re panting heavily.
“Not so fast, bugboy,” You taunt. “I still want you to rest.”
You give him a little nudge backward and he obediently follows your wordless command, plopping back against the pillows of your bed as he looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs.
“I don’t know if you can consider sex as resting,” he points out playfully, a wry grin plastered on his face.
He watches as you smile, the rapid heave and fall of your chest, as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable again on his lap and have lifted your hips off of him. Your hand wraps around his shaft once more and you pump him once, twice, in slow motions as you spread the leaking cum from his throbbing head along his shaft. His jaw drops open at the feeling, eyebrows knitting together, and his fingers dig a little too harshly into your skin accidentally but you don’t at all mind ━ not when you’re able to see such a beautiful reaction from him as he comes undone before you.
Seconds pass of bated breath as you lower yourself slowly, carefully, to his cock. You run the tip of his length along your folds and up to your clit, rubbing small patterns against it that has both of you whimpering lowly. You coat him in your leaking arousal and then lower yourself onto him, finally connecting the two of your bodies as one.
“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.
Jungkook seriously feels as if he’s about to explode ━ literally. You’ve only just sat on him and he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself together long enough before he feels his sweet release. You’re just so warm and wet, so deliciously wet, that he slides easily into your walls that hug him just right. His mind is spinning, and even more so when he feels you stop halfway and lift your hips again. You drop them to the same level and then back again, repeating this process until you drop your hips fully, flush with his.
“Oooh, Jungkook, hmm,” Your fingers dig into his abdomen at the feeling of being so damn full. You can practically feel him throbbing and your own walls clench and release around him as you adjust to his size.
“Move━” he chokes out. “Move, please━ holy shit━”
And you do. You grind against him, rolling your hips around his firm cock as the fire continues to burn between your legs. You raise your hips languidly and drop them back down again and again until you’ve adopted some fluid rhythm, being so easily coaxed by your own cum.
“Like this?” You gasp.
He nods absentmindedly, swallowing thickly. “Fuck yes, just like that, baby.” His head rolls back against the pillows, the vein in his neck straining, “You feel so━ so fucking good.”
“Tell me,” You breathe.
Jungkook finds it hard to concentrate when his eyes fall on you. He watches as your breasts move in tandem as you ride him, the glistening arousal on your folds that coat his length that he watches disappear into you each time. He greedily reaches out as he’s lost in his own thoughts, his hand cupping your plush breast in a firm hold, his thumb brushing against your perked nipple. Your back arches in response, leaning closer to his warm hand, as he focuses on the tightness that is your core.
“Warm,” he moans. “So, so fucking wet ━ oh my god, you’re dripping, baby. Shit, you feel so perfect around my cock.”
You cry out his name, quickening your pace as you chase your high. Your strides are relentless, desperately searching for a sweet release and Jungkook feels the same. He’s held it in this long ━ he isn’t so sure he can hold himself together for much longer. He can’t take it anymore. Just as he feels you slowing down from exhaustion, he sits up once more, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you tight against his chest. Your own arms slide around his neck and you lean forward to crash your lips against his as you roll your hips steadily against his now. The new angle has him hitting a spot in you that shakes you to the core, has stars forming in your eyes.
You bite down hard on his lower lip accidentally as you try to conceal the loud moan that bubbles at your lips. Jungkook only smirks in response, especially when you shamelessly let those strangled moans out. As you sink lower onto him, Jungkook thrusts his hips upward to meet yours halfway, earning a sharp gasp from you. He tightens his hold on you and continues to thrust up into you again and again, so hard and so fast that it makes you writhe with pleasure above him. You can feel him stretching you wide each time, can feel your sticky arousal begin to trickle down his cock and your thighs.
So much for making sure he doesn’t hurt himself again ━ his thrusts are pure animalistic, hasty and needy, though all either of you care about in that moment is feeling that sweet release. You collapse entirely against Jungkook’s arms, letting him take hold of you as his hips smack against your ass. When you finally feel your second high of the night approach, your reaction feels near explosive. He thrusts again and again and you choke out somewhere between the sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing, “J━Jungkook━ Fuck! I’m close━”
He growls in response, eager to push you to yours as he chases for his. Another thrust and, holy shit, there. He hits a spot in you once, twice, and over and over again that just feels so incredibly good that you can’t help but unravel in his arms. It takes you by surprise, washing over you an immense cloud of bliss as white-hot pleasure blinds you, starting from your core and spiralling out to every edge of your body until your toes are curling. You cry out his name in a beautiful harmonious sound as your cum leaks profusely from you and coats him just right.
Fuck this ━ he doesn’t care anymore that you want him to rest. He needs to feel his own release now. So he grabs you securely and then he’s twisting you around, shoving you onto your back as he pushes his hips into you. You’re writhing beneath him, your back arching until your warm and sweaty chest is pressed against his. Your fucked out expression that stares back up at him but with such tired and loving eyes only spurs him on further (that, and the way you’re clenching so nicely around him). It’s completely messy but he’s so close. Another hard slap of his hips and then he’s finally coming undone. He pulls out of you fast, his hand coming down to grab at his cock as he pumps himself, thickly coated with your juices.
He cums moments later with a deep, rough moan, releasing onto your stomach in ivory beads that paint you his. His hand slacks around his softening length and then he, so spent and slightly sore from his wound (only slightly, he swears), collapses against you. The room suddenly falls silent, safe for the heavy panting and the shrill beating of your hearts that you both try to tame. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms wrap around him to lazily twine his hair with your fingers. It’s nice to just lay there like that, enveloped in each other's arms, basking in the heavenly glow of euphoria. He kisses your neck then, soft and simple, and litters kisses down your throat to your collarbones and then back up again to your lips.
When he parts from you, his eyes remain locked on your mouth until he forces himself to look away and up at you. You’re smiling at him and it’s the type of genuine, albeit exhausted, smile that always warms his insides and makes him feel at ease. Tracing the curve of your lips with his index finger, he hums thoughtfully to himself.
“I lied about before,” he says sheepishly. When you quirk a brow at him, he continues. “I lied about before when you asked me if I’m ever afraid when I go out at night. I’m always afraid. Part of why I wear that mask is so the people I’m up against don’t see me wimping out. But, god, when I’m with you, I feel invincible.”
He watches as a light blush pinches at your cheeks, your fingers reaching up to softly graze his cheek.
“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “I love you. I always have and I swear you make me stronger. I don’t know what it is. I think I just want to fight harder for you. I know I was a dick for leaving that night but I know we can make this work. I just need you to believe in me, too.”
Your eyes, littered with stardust, stare into his as if he is the entire world. “I’m strong, too, Jungkook. I don’t always need protection.”
“I know that,” he chuckles.
“Good. Then get back down here and kiss me again, bugboy.”
Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t hesitate to lean down to press his lips lovingly to yours. He melts against your chest and he is content if every night is like this, in each other’s arms. As he deepens the kiss, he hears you whisper against his lips, “I love you, too, bugboy,” and it is all he needs to feel as if he has the world in his very palm.
Jungkook has always been afraid. He is afraid of not living to see the next day, afraid of losing you or his family or friends but every shred of fear fades away when he’s with you. As the city continues to breathe from beyond the brick walls of your apartment and as the sun begins to rise from the very heart of the metropolis along the horizon, Jungkook is certain that he and you together are invincible.
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