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#he has to bc otherwise he feels he has no purpose or worth. and it drives me crazy. i want to shake him until he understands.

liknws · 9 months

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[ 002 ] confidential (don't tell jisung).

⎯⎯ PAIRING: lee minho x reader/oc ⎯⎯ TAGS: enemies with serious tension, childhood friends to enemies, revenge eras, college au, angst, bad humor bc i'm not as funny as i think i am, misunderstandings, unrequited feelings ⎯⎯ RATING: 18+, mature ⎯⎯ WARNINGS: so much swearing, drinking, everyone is an asshole this time (except mae she is baby), suggestive but non explicit themes ⎯⎯ WORD COUNT: 4k (4,378)

⎯⎯ SUMMARY: karma (kar·ma) defined as "(in hinduism and buddhism) the sum of a person's actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences". you've always been a big believer in karma and the universe, knowing that eventually all energy is returned. so when your life is ruined by someone you used to call your best friend, you wonder why karma is taking it's sweet time in retaliating against him. what hurts more is your university won't punish something based on hearsay and so it's up to you to find the proof that lee minho is an evil mastermind and get his ass removed from school for good.

[ masterlist ]

“You should have seen them! It’s like they were two different people.” Chan is used to Minho’s personality switch when he’s dancing, when he’s in his element, having been around Minho for years since he started taking it seriously. He wasn’t prepared to see you though, to see how different you are when you’re in that world too. He thought you looked otherworldly, it truly astounded him to watch you the other week in the studio.

“As if there wasn’t a single thing wrong between them?” Hyunjin leans on the counter, palms flat against the smooth quartz of the serving bar. Chris leans against the other side, though his back is to his friend. It’s not uncommon for one or more of the boys to visit Hyunjin while he works and despite the basic war that propped up last winter, the cafe has always been a neutral ground. Even Minho and you can respect that, though that usually meant if you two were in at the same time that you would sit at different tables on complete opposites of the cafe. Chan considers that a small victory.

“So Mae and I made a bet.” He looks a little too pleased and that makes Hyunjin slightly nervous. “Don’t look at me like that, you’ll like this.” Chan turns to lean into Hyunjin, voice dropping to a whisper to explain the bet. “It’s confidential so—”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell Jisung, I know.”

・❥・

You’re exhausted and you feel like everything aches. Even your teeth hurt but that could be from clenching them in anger everytime you so much as glance at Minho. “He has to be doing this on purpose,” you grunt out while dropping into the empty spot in the little corner table your friend is currently occupying. Mae doesn't need to ask who you’re talking about, there’s only one person that brings this kind of frustration out of you.

“You two share a major, I’m sure he’s not doing it on purpose,” Mae retorts while sliding your iced latte in front of you. “Don’t.” She puts a finger on your lips to silence your immediate argument, shaking her head. “I know you two hate each other but this is a new year, you’re doing better than you have been in months. Don’t let him ruin it- you’re better than him. He isn’t worth the energy or anger this year. Just- just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

You hate that she has a point, a great one at that. Somehow it was just easier to hold onto the hate, the anger, than try to let it go. You’re not sure if you can ever really let it go. Holding the anger is a reminder that he’s no longer your best friend, he isn’t the same boy you would run around the neighborhood with.

He’s certainly not the same boy you gave your first kiss to that winter before you were moving. You didn’t know it at the time that you were leaving, otherwise you never would have done it. He never said it but you saw the hurt in his eyes the day you told him you were moving to Scotland to be with your mom’s family. He didn’t think you saw him after you walked away but you’d turned back to say something else and just watched as pre-teen Minho walked home with his shoulders slumped and throwing the small crumpled note into the brush.

You went back for that note after he was out of sight. His confession. You keep it in a journal, pressed between the pages of your own words of love for him that he never got to know. You carried his silent confession with you for years, regret hanging on your shoulders like a cape. He was the brave one, he was going to tell you the secrets of his heart. You had blurted the move out before he could, fearful of the change in your friendship and hurting him. You’d done it anyway but at least this was something he could heal from, that he could patch up and carry on once it was over. You couldn’t live with yourself if you’d hurt him any other way.

“You’re right,” you grumble, head falling forward until your forehead is pressed onto the tabletop. “But why would he suddenly be interested in taking a classical ballet class? It’s like he’s trying to purposely insert himself into my life. You don’t see me signing up for his stupid hip-hop classes.”

“He is a performance major. He has to take introductory level classes to other styles as part of his degree.” Of course Mae has a logical explanation for him invading your sanctuary. Her next words make you lift your head in a glare. “Don’t you have to take a hip hop introduction for your choreography requirements?” At the look she laughs, reaching over to pat your arm reassuringly and slide the untouched drink closer to you. “Drink the coffee. You’ll feel better.”

“You’re not you when you’re uncaffeinated.” Lucy’s comment from behind the counter brings you all to giggles, effectively lifting your mood with the joke. She stands as close as she can while working but the busy time has set in now that classes have started to end for the week.

You don’t notice, or you prefer not to pay attention, to the larger group of boys looking in your direction. Most of them look on with indifference, a few smiling as they watch your mood become better. One, however, scowls in your direction.

“Stare any harder, Min, and you’re going to set them on fire.” Jisung elbows his friend in the ribs, laughing. The others chuckle as well, adding in their own comments about how Minho is glaring at your table. It snaps him from his glare, turning the annoyance to his best friend before sitting back in his seat silently. “What’s up?” The younger questions with concern, leaning in a little to Minho.

“Nothing, ‘is fine,” he mumbles, though refusing to look at Jisung is a solid tell that he’s hiding something. Chan looks over and catches eyes with Minho, sharing another look of concern. “Seriously, nothing’s up.”

“He’s mad because the intro class he has this semester is the one that they’re the TA of.” Felix is quick to fill in the others, having been on the receiving end of Minho’s frustration and near begging to have Felix be the TA instead of you. “He’s mad that neither Hyun nor I are TA’s this semester. Sorry,” he continues, meeting Minho’s eyes with an apologetic smile. “But we have too much this year to fit it in.”

“Can’t you drop the class and get another one next semester?”

“No.” The one word answer is full of every range of anger and annoyance he could feel in the moment. “The ballet intro class is only done this semester and there’s only one. If I didn’t need the classical credit I would bail.”

“That’s rough buddy.” Changbin claps Minho on the shoulder with a laugh, earning chuckles from the rest of them. “Who knows, maybe this is a blessing?”

“Wait,” Jeongin interjects, leaning forward to wave his hand to catch everyone’s attention. “Who are they and why does Minho hate them?”

“Oh right, you weren’t around for all of this,” Hyunjin says. He leans back, throwing an arm over the youngest’s shoulders and pointing at the table where you sit with your friends. “Those four. Mae and Cherry are in the dance department with us. The other two are Cherry’s best friends.”

Your ears start burning and lifting your head, you catch Hyunjin pointing at you. Sending him a confused look before flipping him off, you don’t pay it much more attention. Had it been anyone else at the table you might have broken the unspoken treaty but Hyunjin is … well Hyunjin and gets a pass.

“Chan, Minho, and Cherry used to be best friends. Grew up together,” Changbin adds. “They both had feelings for them.” The protest from the mentioned two is immediate, sugar packets being thrown at Changbin. “They keep denying it but we all know it’s true.” He jumps up with a laugh, skirting around Chan’s lunge at him. His words are punctuated with laughter as Chan chases after him out of the cafe.

You’re trying to hide your smile behind your coffee at the sight, swatting at Mae when she dares tease you about watching.

“Chan’s thing was when they were kids and back in first year. Don’t tell him I said that.” Hyunjin is quick to continue after the other two have departed, rapidly adding the details before either of them return. Minho is glaring at him but the look is ignored.

“Did they go to a different high school?” Jeongin asks, still completely lost on the reason for the animosity between the groups.

“Sort of. They moved overseas with their family before the start of middle school. Came back to go to university.” Jeongin nods along with what Hyunjin is saying, eyes wide as he takes in all the information. “We don’t actually know why they started hating Minho? But it was right away. They reconnected with Chan first and he was talking all these great things about them and it was before Min decided to add a second major so the first year they weren’t really seeing each other- you following so far, baby bread?”

“They hate me because they’re a stuck up bitch who can’t take a joke. Even with surgery to remove the stick up their ass, they’d still be a bitch.” Minho jumps in with a glare at Hyunjin. “Maybe if they would loosen up, have a little fun, they wouldn’t be such an insufferable person. We were only friends because our mom’s forced us to hang out as kids. They liked Chan and chased after us everywhere, it was so annoying. I was glad when they moved.”

What Minho fails to notice is the look of horror on everyone’s face at the end of his speech. The look of horror because you’ve come to a stop behind him and heard most of what he had to say. Only when you lean down next to Minho, putting yourself between Seungmin and him does he realize what’s happened.

“Don’t forget to add that he pimped me out to a senior in the music department last year. Convinced this guy I would sleep with him on the first date and even paid him to take me on a date. After that though, this is Min’s favorite part so pay attention, guys from every department started trying to get me to sleep with them. Lots of great stories started popping up about me around campus about how good of a fuck I am and that Minho is willing to pay anyone to sleep with me because I’m too pathetic for a date of my own. The harassment was so bad that I took time off school so I could go at least one day without some guy on campus trying to touch something he shouldn’t. Can’t forget your favorite part, can we Min?” You pat his shoulder with a bit too much force as you stand up. Turning to Jeongin, the one face you’re not familiar with, you give a chilling smile. The others have gone silent.

You don’t glance back at Minho so you don’t see how his ears turn red and the slight flush to his cheeks. Your eyes never leave Hyunjin and Jeongin, though that chilling smile has warmed up a little. “If you’re going to tell the story, present all the facts. I might be a bitch but it’s only because Minho is the biggest fucking cocksucker I’ve had the absolute displeasure of ever knowing.” A glance at the table before you raise your hand, fingers wiggling in a wave. “See you around.”

Bumping into Chan and Changbin as you turn around tells you that they were there for it, having come back inside to watch your little scene with their friends. Chan’s hands come up in a show of innocence, backing away as if you’re likely to attack him next. Mae mouths her apologies to the rest of them, shooting a look around at the eight sets of eyes that watch as you calmly storm from the cafe.

Everyone settles back into their seat, a tense silence washing over everyone as if waiting to see what happens next. Minho breaks the silence by laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. “Total fucking bitch.” His exit is quick, shoving his chair back as his backpack is slung over one shoulder. Jisung is quick to follow after him, hoping to calm down Minho. “See you guys at the party later,” he says as he departs, Jisung on his tail out of the cafe.

“So there’s a bet going on.” Hyunjin barely waits for the door of the cafe to close behind the parting two before spilling the whole idea. Huddled together, he shares the details of the bet with a smile. Soon the look is mirrored on everyone’s face as Chan fills in the details that Hyunjin missed or forgot. Soon enough cash is being slapped on the table’s surface as they all want in on this bet.

“Add me to that,” Lucy adds, her hand slapping to the top of the pile with a grin. “Elsie wants in on it too. She’ll get her money to Hyunjin next shift— Don’t look at me like that Chris. Your group isn’t as quiet as you think you are.” She departs back to work with a laugh. There are shared looks of mischief as each person starts thinking of ways to win the bet.

・❥・

Of course winning the bet for Lucy or Mae meant getting you out of the house. Elsie had declined on pretense of an early shift at the cafe so you’re left at the whims of your other two best friends. Both link arms with you, each on either side, standing in front of the house that seems to vibrate with the music. Every color of lights spill from the open windows, carrying with it the sound of deep bass of your favorite songs.

“Guys- no. Seriously, I was fine with a party but not one on the Row. You promised.” Your protest is ignored, both pulling you by the arm in an attempt to get you into the house.

“It’s the end of Rush Week. You know these are the only parties worth going to.” Lucy tugs harder on your arm, making you stumble a little. You’re grateful that you at least won against the wearing of high heels and instead have your favorite sneakers on.

“Why do I feel like you’re setting me up to get into something tonight? Or is this some weird way of getting Mae and Felix to finally get together? Don’t give me that look, you two are the least subtle people ever. Seriously just kiss him already, you two would be fucking cute together.”

Lucy is laughing, though still tugging on your arm. Mae’s given up in her flustered state. One down.

“Don’t get me started on you and Hyunjin, Lu.” She stops, mouth gaping. Mae’s the one giggling now.

“You promised that was a secret!”

“And you promised no parties with the Greeks. Looks like we’re both assholes now.” They both drop your arms, Lucy glaring at you while Mae hits you with puppy dog eyes. Somehow, in a way you don’t understand, the combination of both those looks does you in. “Fine! Fine,” you relent. “I’m leaving at the first sight of Mean Hoe. Deal?” You’ll take the excited squeals as confirmation to your deal.

That’s how you find yourself a few drinks deep and dancing in the middle of a makeshift dance floor. Someone’s hands are on your waist and you’re too drunk to care about who they are, or that they’re traveling a little too far down your hips. You’re barely aware of the way the person’s fingers are trailing the inside of your thighs, trying to brush against the more sensitive areas of your body. You are aware when that person is shoved hard away from you, making you whip around in confusion and surprise.

The sight of the stranger being shoved again has you jumping forward, grabbing hold of the assailant’s wrist and pulling him off the other. “What the fuck— Minho?” Now you have to be really drunk because why is Minho shoving some guy off you? “What are you doing?” He doesn’t answer, instead shifting out of your hold on his wrist and grabbing yours instead. You’re drunk and easy to overpower, using that to his advantage as he all but drags you to the upstairs.

“What was that?” Are the first words he flings at you, once you’re shoved into a dark room. The lights from the hallway are gone once the door is closed. You’re backing away from him until you feel a sink at your back.

“Never seen someone having fun before Minho? Weren’t you the one saying earlier today that I need to have fun? What the fuck is your problem?” The darkness is settled between you and the only light comes from under the door, not nearly enough to see him. You can only hear him step closer, and can only feel him reach for you again. There isn’t enough room for you to maneuver out of his hold, stuck as one hand grips your upper arm and the other settles on your cheek.

“Are you okay?” The question startles you, the softness in his voice bringing back a familiar fondness you once had for him. You remember the last time he touched you like this, when you had tried to teach him how to ice skate and ended up being the one to fall into the snowbank because you thought you could skate backwards. He’d helped you up then and looked you over to make sure you were okay. That had been the winter you kissed him, you’d been thinking of ways to do it for weeks and the need to do it had gotten so strong and he was so close.

“Blossom, are you okay?” The nickname makes you shiver and brings you from the memory. He’s the only one to ever call you that. Where Chan claims the name Cherry comes from your love of all things cherry flavored, it really comes from the spring that you and Minho went to see the Cherry Blossoms in Japan with your families. You don’t know why he started the name but all you cared about is how happy it made you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m alright.” There’s barely any space between you two. The sounds of the party remain muffled to the other side of the door so both of you have dropped to whispering to each other. You still can’t see him, despite the time to let your eyes adjust, but that doesn’t bother you. You’re almost scared to see how he looks, almost knowing those brown eyes would be full of emotions you haven’t seen in him in so long. Not directed at you, at least.

“What are you doing?” He whispers still, his hold on you tightening just a little as he presses closer to you. Your hands come up to his chest but instead of pushing him off, you curl your fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. “Why are you here?” He feels impossibly close, your bodies pressed together, chests rising and falling together. His forehead touched to your’s has the breath stuck in your throat.

“Having fun,” you reply finally. With him so close you can almost see his features. You swear you can see him look down at your lips after you’re done talking, that his nose brushes against yours and your breath is stuck again. The hand on your arm slides up, cupping the back of your neck so gently. This must be a dream, you reason. Minho would never be this soft with you, not really.

“That’s fun for you?” His tone lacks its usual venom, filled instead with confusion. As if he can’t believe that you would be pressing yourself against a stranger while drunk at a college party.

“It’s fun for you,” is your retort, trying to push yourself back into bantering with him but the words feel wrong. “Why can’t dancing with someone be fun for me?” He doesn’t answer right away and you’re about to shove him off you finally when his lips brush over yours. Not really a kiss, more like a ghost of a touch before his lips press to your forehead. You freeze.

“Because it wasn’t me, that’s why.” Words are muttered against your skin where his lips don’t leave your forehead. He presses another kiss before letting go and leaving the bathroom all before you have a chance to even take your next shuddering breath. What just happened?

・❥・

Saturday mornings after parties are always the same, all four of you stumbling to the living room for coffee and gossip. Elsie left for work too early but left you three with freshly made coffee on a timer. You had attempted to avoid the sacred roommate ritual with claims of needing to get more practice before your performance and left that morning with a promise that you’re okay and that all that happened with Minho had been a fight. You rush out too quickly for either one to argue to which you’re thankful. At least their hangovers have made them a little less invasive for now.

Lying feels awful, a growing weight in your stomach as if you swallowed stones and they keep multiplying each time you lie to your roommates. At least you don’t lie about wanting more practice. The whole dance department is having their showcase for Director Yun on Monday after classes are finished and you’re nervous. You’re debating just reusing your final dance and tweaking it instead.

Despite coming to work on your routine, your mind is only able to focus on the party last night. After Minho had left the bathroom you’d stayed there, sitting on the edge of the tub with your thoughts. The same thoughts that have you messing up your footwork and missing the timing of the routine. Confusion hangs on every thought: confusion from his actions, confusion on what he said, confusion on your own feelings.

You feel like you’ve been flung back in time to the winter before everything was hard, to a time when being around Minho made your heart race and left you with thoughts of the future with him. A future where you two were with each other always.

You’re just standing in the middle of the studio, your music having come to a stop minutes ago. The silence isn’t even noticed, you’re just staring at yourself in the mirrors across from you. Why you? Why of all people did he need to torture you? What about you wasn’t enough, maybe even good enough, that he would treat you so different from all the others on campus.

You’ve seen it since first year, the way he jumps from relationship to relationship as if playing hopscotch. Never staying still long enough to form any real bonds and only ever long enough to sleep with them a few times. Always a beautiful girl, always someone who hangs on his every word and jumps to please his every wish. He never used to be that guy- or so you assume. Maybe he was always going to be this guy but you hadn’t been around when his interest in the physical things became more important. You were thousands of miles away.

You weren’t the one to judge him, you had just wanted to catch up with your first friend. The person who shared all the same childhood memories. But when he ‘forgot’ who you were until Chan prompted him and then said he only ever hung out with you because of your families? You’re not sure what heartbreak felt like then but you’re almost positive that was your first heartbreak.

From that moment you did what you could to avoid him, pretty easily in the first few months of first year since he wasn’t in the dance department yet. He was so different from the Minho you remembered, you just couldn’t believe that the kind hearted boy who saved the neighborhood cats with you and held your hand during thunderstorms is the same man now.

Your breaking point came near the end of the year. Not quite finals season but everyone had agreed to start getting together early in order to study together for the general classes you all shared. The group at the time was Chan, Changbing, Hyunjin, Minho, Mae, and yourself. Lucy and Elsie would pop in for moral support when working but the core became the six of you. The cafe becomes a second home to all of you during studying sessions.

You remember the point in which the tense animosity became a full on war between friends. Minho, on the far side of the table, sat bragging too loudly about his latest date. Short tempered as always, but irritated and wearing thin from the long studying hours, you snapped at him. You’d asked him what was wrong with him, what deranged alien species decided to body-swap with him.

He had laughed and just shrugged. “She threw herself at me. She knew what she was getting into when she asked to hang out.” The casual way in which he said it, disregarding the girl’s emotions, sets you off. You don’t remember half the names you call him, some of them flung his way in Gaelic because you’re so flustered you can’t think of translations in your head before your mouth is calling him anything you can.

The things said that night were some of the worst things you two have ever said to each other. So why had last night been a different Minho? Why had your soft best friend cornered you in that bathroom and almost kissed you? And why are you upset that he didn’t?

#minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x you

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lifesver · 3 months

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so yeah anyway

leland joined the friend group last, he's 19 and in his freshman year.

started out friends w the fratboys and jocks and had to earn some of the friendgroup's respect before he got pulled in like uh huh ok he's just harmless he's cool he's a loser we like him

he did wrestling in hs bc his dad made him. golden boy coming to a big city school is real tho like he got taken down a peg.

but he also did football (: and now he is on the football team in uni. i think he otherwise studies english literature. agree that he is not like all-star bigshot in uni but he's solid

he has a pathetic crush on just about every single one of his close friends but also feels like he is the just some guy who has to kind of be worth his place in the group who all p much knew each other before him

i don't subscribe to julie stringing leland along or being mean to him tbh. i think they are jock friends and one day she will teach him to surf (: but he does think she's really pretty and wants to impress her bc see:above

more on that aint no way 'julie gave him purpose' like shut uuuuup bro. his new friendgroup gave him purpose tho! he loves them all sincerely!!

"he's not used to rejection" is probably somewhat true, popular in hs vibes. peaking in hs vibes also but he's not weird about rejection. he was raised right ok

i already had that he drops out of college but that's after the house and bc he gets an injury. and also i can see him letting all his school stuff slide. but he's not dumb he's smart! he just kind of walks and talks dumb sometimes. and doesn't necessarily love being perceived as anything out of the ordinary if u know what i mean

^^^^ repressed small town boy w some insecurities still real. lots of pressure on himself, lots of worth put into how other people, especially his friends, see him.

connie told leland it's ok to like girls and boys (: it's devastatingly giving 'steve and robin in the bathroom when she came out to him' energy where he was just like ... oh!!!!! cool (: wait so i can also-

obv all i have re: shipping remains ^

sonny and leland besties (: in a roommates that kissed way. hope that helps the viewers

#i can't remember if there's anything else to cover but that's my retcons off the top of my head lolll #he's a loserboy. a boyfailure. and he enchants us

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 4 months

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Ive complained about this before, Rhysand being known as Death Incarnate because he kills a lot of people i guess makes no fucking sense, its just this forced attempt to make acomaf and feysand feel more like a hades/persephone type thing and I know its an incredibly minor detail and Im petty for caring so much about such an insignificant little detail, but idc it pisses me off and Im gonna kill someone for no reason, and then you all get to call me death incarnate

Anyway, for some fucking reason my brain started storming some nicknames/titles for Rhysand that piss me off less, and I ended up on Death's Lover as something that makes way more sense for a guy who doesnt actually seem to have any death-related powers and is just kinda a guy who kills a lot of people and then that made me think of my current obsession, Elisabeth: das Musical wherein they have this guy

as the personification of death and now Im kinda rotating the idea of Rhys/this specific portrayal of death in my mind cuz its like. idk, in the musical hes also a personification of suicidal thoughts and dread and other very bad feelings and I think itd be neat to have him around Rhys as a manifestation of his guilt over all his "morally gray" actions as well as a manifestation of how a ton of people die in the night court every day through his inaction and then they almost kiss, but only almost cuz you can only kiss Death when youre dying and Rhysand is very alive

honestly, i just need Rhys to be more affected by his guilt in order to stop hating him bc rn its like. okay so, in my humble opinion, if SJM wanted Rhysand to be a fun cocky flirty bastard he shouldve been a guy who had little to no qualms with the morally gray shit hes doing, like he thinks its all worth it and justified and he doesnt worry about it too much, and if SJM wanted him to be an edgy boi who did morally gray things because he thought that was the best course of action at the time but is now all angsty about it he should be actively being eaten alive by guilt in acomaf. But SJM wanted both, so now hes this insufferable combination where hes a cocky flirty bastard most of the time and then whenever he does something fucked up or Feyre brings up some fucked up shit he did in the past, he suddenly starts projecting all the guilt hes ever felt over anything (and his trauma that otherwise doesnt seem to affect him) which really makes it feel like hes being manipulative, but its clearly not being done on purpose and Feyre just takes him at face value so its just fucking annoying

Anyway, i kinda lost track of what this post was even supposed to be. tldr: i hate rhys but he has some potential, i think he should get his slutty little waist grabbed by death and I think they should do some Mayerling Walzer shit together

#in case you didnt watch elisabeth #the mayerling walzer is a musical number during which a guy kills himself. i just said i wanted rhysand to kill himself #but like #in a homoerotic way #anyway #anti rhysand

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aces-and-angels · 11 months

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and the results are in!

i have some thoughts that i'll add below the cut bc as per usual, i like to ramble lol

---

Both routes have a special place in my heart and are incredibly well done. In my opinion, the payoff of seeing Jocelyn x MC's relationship develop are the same regardless- and here's why:

It's all a slow burn, baby ✨

lol but really, @livelaughlovecassie mentioned this in one of their tags earlier in the week and I wanted to expand on it.

If we look at all the LIs ILW has to offer, it makes sense why Jocelyn is the only one MC can pursue a fwb-type of relationship with.

With Amalia being demisexual, I don't see her ever agreeing to it.

When MC meets Lincoln, the man has walls. Tall ones. He may have had more casual relationships in the past, but when presented with the suggestion by MC, he refuses to engage. The man is afraid of getting close- as friends or romantically.

Matthias- he ain't looking at you unless you have something to offer. His one other relationship besides MC resulted in a marriage and a family, so I imagine he's not one to do things casually. All or nothing for grandpa Matty.

Abel has no problem emotionally connecting with others. Out of all the LIs, his relationship w/ MC can progress the fastest. However, true physical intimacy proves to be more of a struggle for his character. His scars are a source of insecurity, which preclude him from being completely vulnerable with his past partners. Because of this, I can't see him wishing to pursue a purely physical relationship.

But Jocelyn? She is a very physical person. A dedicated athlete- a skilled fighter- she's even getting a degree in Physical Education lmao. It's clear from the jump that she's the type to act first, think later- a trait that allows a fwb route to not only be possible, but believable. That, in my opinion, is the hardest part to achieve.

Whether MC starts a slow burn or a fwb-type relationship with Jocelyn, it is clear that she is not used to being emotionally vulnerable with others. There's an almost innocent quality that is wonderfully juxtaposed by her bluntness seen in her romance scenes throughout the slow burn route. That, along with the small tidbits of information MC gets to learn about her and vice versa, make this a path worth exploring.

Now, onto path 2:

At the start of the fwb route, Jocelyn seems to be more in her element. More confident. Even without romancing Joss, MC learns that she is no stranger to sex during the gang's dinner party in chapter 14. It is only when the emotional aspects of their relationship begin to flourish that she shows any uncertainty. I think the best example of this is seen during their scene at Matthias' mansion- and again on the Ferris wheel, where after a moment of vulnerability, Jocelyn reverts back to the familiar, physical relationship she knows.

With the amount of smut PB has put out in recent years, I think we're all aware of how one-note a sexual relationship can be. I can't recall who said it originally from the ILW team, but to loosely paraphrase: some readers will naturally gravitate towards the romantic elements of the story, but all of them will lose interest if the overall plot is not engaging enough to keep their attention.

There may be some who find the distribution of 'dirty thirty' scenes among the LIs unfair due to the nature of Jocelyn's fwb route. My response to that is this: giving every LI the same amount of 'dirty thirty' scenes would do more harm to the storyline than good. Part of what makes ILW such a great series is its ability to make each relationship feel earned, not automated. There should be intent behind scenes like those, otherwise it serves no real purpose other than to satisfy an arbitrary quota.

The magic of Jocelyn's fwb route is rooted by thoughtful writing. She doesn't read as an entirely different person between the two routes because there is a sound understanding of character. That, along with readers being given full agency on how to navigate this kind of relationship make a wonderful story.

And on a less thoughtful, more lizard-brain note: those scenes were HOT 🔥🔥🔥

#playchoices #choices #ilw #it lives within #jocelyn x mc #jocelyn wu #fwb vs slow burn #ilb #ilitw #it lives beneath #it lives in the woods #it lives series #it lives anthology #i love a good slow burn #and seeing a fwb done RIGHT #ooo #i love joss

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muzzleroars · 1 year

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In the kind of perfect cosmic coincidences universe that allows both V1 x Gabe AND V2 surviving. Do Gabriel and V2 have any interaction?

WE ARE TALKING BEST FRIENDS (???) V2 AND GABRIEL TONIGHT

YES OMG....i mentioned this in some tags yesterday, but it's so true that v2 and gabriel actually have a lot in common as characters. i just started to really think about it while i've been working on this comic taking a small look at gabe's identity and the fight in 3-2 - both v2 and gabriel are beings based in violence, v2 built from the foundations of a war machine and gabriel made in the mold of the perfect soldier. but their main function is peacekeeping, meant to bring order and harmony through their brutality, one they are given yet meant to keep in check so as to only apply as much force as necessary on those they supposedly serve. however, both of their creators are now dead - v2 was meant to uphold the now moot new peace, gabriel meant to preserve the sanctity of god's now abandoned kingdom. their identities buckle under it, and, at least to me, they solve this by continuing to pursue their objective even though it's now meaningless in the world they inhabit. they are both beings left behind, the pride of their creators and now without them and without direction. neither of the them do well in failure, in aimlessness, and so they march forward with the same programming, the same directives given a long time ago, to such a stubborn extreme even they know it's folly but they can't let it go, can't be nothing.

SO i think they would actually have a decent amount to talk about, although it's such a vulnerable part of both of them that i think they'd be pretty abrasive to one another, especially upon first meeting. they see their own failure in the other, they see how pointless they believe themselves to be reflected back at them and they HATE it. a machine upholding human law in hell? an angel who serves nothing and has no god? what's the point of YOU? they both ask. they both see a zombie, something shambling on and slowly falling apart, and they KNOW that's them, that's what they are. so initially i think they're...icy at best. v2 is a little shit, a lot like v1, and so it does like bugging gabe bc he's so reactive, but otherwise they generally refuse to speak much. because in this scenario i think they would both be coming to terms with the death of who they always were and who they should have been into eternity, but it's not. going well for them. and so they would fight, argue and bicker over almost EVERYTHING, until they're forced to face what they didn't ever want to, forced to find a companion to their grief. v1 isn't like them in this regard, it doesn't care that its purpose has no meaning - its worth hasn't lied with its function or its creators for a long time, it didn't struggle with this breakdown. for v1's part, all it says to them is "you're free, do what you want because nothing matters" but that doesn't compute for them, at least not yet. v2 and gabriel would be harsh with each other i think, but feeling a true understanding from something else, from another entity that can genuinely relate to their specific flavor of ruined identity, would mean WAY more than either would be willing to admit lol

#you know that post about found family but it fucking sucks #THAT'S WHAT THIS IS. FOR ALL OF THEM.#i like v1 and v2 growing into an evil twin dynamic #it is CHAOS but they're all happy. as much as they can be lol #i genuinely love them as a trio and the v2 gabe dynamic is so good...#cake answers

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hrokkall · 1 year

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How about Kaycee for the ask game?

KAYCEE I love her let’s go

Favorite thing about them: I love how blatant it is that Kaycee just says “wouldn’t it be cool if—“ before everything she does. In the base game, all of Leshy’s cards (barring the rare cards) are based upon Canadian wildlife you’d realistically find around the BC area… not Kaycee’s additions. She adds a Central American mud turtle, a European lammergeier, and not one, but TWO extinct animals (the wild bull and dire wolf), not to mention the challenges themselves. She’s very clearly just shoving some of her favorite things into the game to say “look! I think you’ll like this too” and it’s so fun to me.

Least favorite thing about them: I love Kaycee. She’s wonderful. But holy shit does some of the lore in KMod fuck everything up. Inscryption was developed in the 90s but KMod seems to imply it was developed in the 2000s where she would’ve met Luke? Not to MENTION the partial retcon of the Scrybes fighting each other for control for years (granted that can be chalked up to an oversight on Kaycee’s part wherein Leshy’s takeover was just the first takeover she noticed, but still).

Favorite line: Kaycee being pissed that Leshy beheaded her self-insert will never not be funny.

brOTP: This is such an “I’m sure everyone is going to answer with this” type of answer, but Kaycee and Leshy’s friendship means so much to me. Inscryption really said “here is a person who has dedicated his entire purpose to the existence of someone doomed to never see his work and here is another person who sees why he was doomed to never be seen by human eyes and she indulges anyway out of love for what he has created and out of love for their shared company” and then just subtly put it in the background of the narrative. Leshy just wanted to play his game and Kaycee wholeheartedly wanted to play with him, listening to his suggestions and using her own skills to add things she thought he’d like (in addition to the challenges that were just for her let’s be real). The game really stresses that Leshy—despite, by design, not really caring for anything outside of the game—saw her not just as the challenger he’d hoped for but, above all else, a friend and that means so much.

Having said that, I do dunk on Kaycee a little bit for not destroying a malevolent supernatural force trapped inside a floppy disk because her best friend was also on it but then again I think that would’ve been even worse if she destroyed it and then died anyway. Inscryption isn’t a game where anyone wins but that definitely would’ve been even more of a loss for everyone involved.

OTP: As per usual in this category I don’t really ship Kaycee with anyone.

nOTP: I’m not a fan of Kaycee and Leshy in a romantic sense. Them being friends just means a lot more to me.

Random headcanon: I mentioned with Luke that proximity to the old_data (filtered via Inscryption) sort of messes with the human body after a while and that’s… much more true for Kaycee than it is for Luke. Normally the old_data is a corrupting force that would want to turn whatever’s closest to it into a suitable host should it have to jump ship, but Leshy’s takeover of the game sort of interrupts that process and instead causes any changes to reflect his version of the game instead. It gets to a point where she actually has to wear her glasses to work otherwise she’s certain her coworkers will notice that her eyes have begun to shine in the dark like those of a wild animal.

(Worth noting there’s Zero canon basis for any of this; normally I try to keep my headcanons pretty grounded in canon but I hate the ARG as a whole and also how it explains it instead of keeping it as something undefinable so I’m doing whatever I want with the concept of the OLD_DATA. It’s the haunted cartridge equivalent of an eldritch horror to me. The Scrybes are all sending out fishing lines and hacking off pieces of it to use for their own means, not because it’s corrupted them but because they feel they have to. It is still alive. Hope this helps.)

Unpopular opinion: This isn’t an unpopular opinion in the slightest, I’m just pretty sure I’m the only person who gives Kaycee glasses. Probably because she pretty visibly doesn’t have them in her portrait, but she just seems like she’d be someone who needs glasses and Never Wears Them—she’s nearsighted and she’s a programmer, she doesn’t need to see far away (read: yes she does).

Song I associate with them: I have a lot of Kaycee songs (I have playlists for a lot of these characters admittedly but I’m just bad at picking songs to share from them) but my go-tos are Flight of the Crows by Jhariah (just general energy idk), The Most Peculiar Day of Your Life by The Hoosiers (works for any of the protagonists but I feel it aligns especially well with some of Kaycee’s entries), and Frozen Pines by Lord Huron. As a bonus, I associate Betrayed by Bones by Hellogoodbye with her, but I don’t really have an explanation for that one.

Favorite picture of them: There’s technically only one picture of Kaycee in-game (and I don’t even know if it’s canonically confirmed to be Kaycee… then again, who else could it possibly be). But I’m counting her Deathcard in this too. The head it uses is also called “the wildling” which is so fun

#Re: Inbox #Re: Anon #Ask meme #My favorite cringe failgirl

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mando-abs · 1 year

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Okay best takeaways in the episode 6 podcast imo

- Them describing this episode as full of action in terms of mental games is incredible. Bc yeah, it is. And then saying that it should be just as entertaining as physical action if not more; how they enjoyed this one more bc you can play around with it. I agree. Physical action shouldn’t be used to cover up weak tension in a story. Tension should be held throughout, even when they’re talking quietly (i.e. Maria and Ellie’s spat). That should be what you turn to, especially if you want your real action to be impactful. Otherwise, it’s just watching a boxing match, entertaining in the moment but it doesn’t linger.

- Speaking of tension, I love how they keep bringing up what Joel and Ellie want to say versus what they actually say. Bc we as viewers know what Ellie really means when she says “I can’t fucking do this without you.” But they’re not at that level of admission yet. Or when Joel says “Your wife was keeping you off the radio?” He knows damn well Maria wouldn’t do that. She just let him into their fortress. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that Tommy stopped radioing him. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s a failure in Tommy’s eyes. And it isn’t until we physically see Joel realize he screwed up that he tells Tommy the truth. He still doesn’t with Ellie but he’s already established decades worth of trust with Tommy. When you write, you want to keep characters from admitting the whole truth until it serves the best purpose in the story. That and it’s part of the fun when the audience gets to play the guessing game of what do they actually mean. Just wonderfully good shit right here in terms of writing.

- “I have dreams. What dreams? I don’t know. All I know is that when I wake up, I know I’ve lost something.” THIS LINE CAME FROM PEDRO. IM SO SHOCKED RIGHT NOW. HOLY SHIT. Them acting like Pedro didn’t just drop the most heartbreaking new line of Joel dialogue (I mean I’m sure they know but still). Pedro’s so mean for that.

- They kept most of the scene™️ exactly as it was. And the line they changed for Joel was because this Joel is just a little different emotionally than in the game. Which I mean, makes sense bc it’s harder for audiences to fully relate to Joel than it is for a gamer who embodies Joel.

- I did not know that Ashley Johnson included not only the shove at Joel but also the weird “fucking” in the middle of the line when she does it. She was just so in the moment and feeling the anger. That’s awesome. It totally adds to the desperation of Ellie.

EDIT: WAIT I also wanted to put down how they described a panic attack. “It feels like you’re having a heart attack. It feels like you’re dying”

As someone who has suffered from many a panic attack, has had to learn coping mechanisms to combat it, and is medicated, it’s right on the money. It’s what I’ve been saying this whole time, but people who don’t have panic attacks don’t believe me or don’t see how I come to those conclusions. Short answer: you stay in your head way too much. For Joel’s case, he’s just now starting to deal with his trauma that he’s held onto for years. In a miniature recreation of that, I took a Tylenol PM to help me sleep bc my foot hurtie. It helped me sleep so much it relaxed me. And once my body started reverting back to it’s old grind, I felt like I was dying and my heart started doing weird things. But it went away as soon as I distracted myself from it.

He starts touching his trauma and his body physically reacts. But it goes away when Ellie gets his mind off of it. But as soon as that trigger comes back…

- Mazin’s daughter sang the sad version of Depeche Mode’s song 🥹🥹🥹 that’s so sweet and doubly sad

#tlou #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #hbo tlou spoilers #tlou hbo spoilers #tlou spoilers #the last of us #the last of us spoilers

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seishun-emergency · 2 years

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anyways. got tired of that whole "being sick" and "resting" thing so i made a tierlist! enstars characters and what i think their best/favourite style of competitive dance would be

explanations/notes under the cut if you're interested whatsoever in my thought process

ballet: starting with the obvious ones we've got izumi (canonically did ballet) and then the mfers who seem to have obvious ballet training (fushimi, shu). the other 4 i can't explain aside from like. vibes. look me in the eyes and tell me that adonis wouldn't absolutely kill it with the jumps expected of guys in ballet. hokuto has the prince vibes necessary for like every pas de deux ever! i think tomoya would get lifted a lot. and i think midori could do the lifts

jazz: there's like three threads of reasoning behind every character here. either 1) they aren't rigid enough for ballet but benefit from the structure and technique of jazz, 2) have the Energy for it. the Sass or 3) have the other kind of Energy for it (energetic/jumpy/etc.)

contemp/lyrical: i feel the need to point out that i accidentally put 4/5 of la mort here. Not On Purpose. (worth also noting that noir neige's choreo falls loosely in the vein of contemp/lyrical) kuro and tatsumi might be weird ones but hear me out i think they would both benefit from the looser amounts of freedom and ability to express yourself that contemp and lyrical have. how directly it is used to express emotion, particularly Sad or Upsetting ones

tap: now i'm biased because My favourite style is tap but i think everyone here either has the natural rhythm to understand tap from a musicality point of view or they would be able to make the rhythms of tap make sense to them in a logical way. (also i think tori did tap? in the fine vs. trickstar DDD match?? at least it sounded like it in the anime) specifically for hajime i think he would find it easier to just have to coordinate two of his limbs instead of his entire body at all times until he eventually gets better body control via dancing more because lord knows i was also like that,

hip hop/street: mostly self explanatory! tsumugi is there because of the brilliant smile music video are u kidding me. who taught him to fucking breakdance. i think shinobu would be surprisingly good at it because he's got good body control and would be good at picking up specific details of choreography! and i think aira just deserves to have cool moments

improv: barring the canonical one (leo tsukinaga ur insane) these are all guys i think have a lot of natural creativity and talent and would love to just fucking go at it with any song! they get to express themselves and their dance style and knowledge in arguably the most raw way possible on a competitive stage

musical theatre/variety: if you've never seen musical theatre/variety at a Dance Competition let me tell u this is some of the funniest most over the top shit ever. anyways. wataru is here bc he's the theatre bitch (otherwise he'd be in ballroom or jazz) and chiaki is here because he is so over the top (otherwise he'd be in jazz or hip hop)

ballroom: i can't see them doing any competitive styles and feeling comfortable in them. that is why this tier exists. they'd both do ballet tho if they HAD to choose one bc it has the necessary structure/similar expectations of elegance and poise

#leo composes #enstars #ensemble stars #i use my other special interest of Dance to make Insane Tier Lists #and also analyze every music video's choreography but that's harder to translate to tumblr #it's just me screaming at my computer and rewinding every five seconds to rewatch something #'leo what are your qualifications to make this' uh #i did competitive dance for 10 years and have been dancing since i was 3!#i love dance. i love talking about dance

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llycaons · 8 months

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ep41 (2/2): cleansing really is that beautiful

jgy is really good at turning his genuinely unfortunate circumstances into sympathy points to skirt around responsibility. I do feel bad for him, I do understand his position. but he's not the only person here without power, and he's certainly only looking out for his own skin

and like nmj says, he's doing all this - crying and lying and manipulating - because he wants to keep a high social position. no other reason. and he admits it!

I find this argument so funny. like in fairness it's similar to the one that wwx brings up later but wwx and wn actually died and in wwx's minds, paid for their crimes already. jgy never did, and hearing him whine 'oh my god, I just killed a few people, are you're STILL bringing it up now???' is pretty funny

good point, jgy! nmj isn't entirely a bastion of flawless justice himself, but 1. he actually tries because he cares about it and 2. this conversation is about your crimes and diverting will not save you from him

oh, so poetic! so dramatic! look at that face!

OH DAMN!!!!!! CRIMSON PEAK MASTER COMEBACK

oh this is a good scene. correct response to 'their lives aren't worth as much as mine!' and a perfect example for people who genuinely think jgy is some hero of the working class. sorry, guys. he's only in it for himself and he;ll step on as many poor and margnalized people as he needs to in the process

bad manners, nmj :(

this was so cunty of him

idk I feel like there could have been a better translation for this

POINTING AT JGY!!! wow so yeah jgy is murdering him for no reason other than 'he kicked me out of the clan for killing his commander and yelled at me a lot :(' you would crumble into dust if you encountered a quarter of the hardships of the wens

holding baxia like that....

oh my god he's so off the rails

ohhh it that suibian I see 👀

okay this looks stupid but but it's my firm belief that this is proof wwx has at least a shadow of a golde core in his new body otherwise HOW COULD BE DO THAT

hiii sexy

it's so cute how he pulls himself up each step like that. he's so tiny!

and then all tucked out and flopping onto lwj's hand <3

so full of personality was this paperman that I forgot wwx had a real body to return to and I jumped when he reappeared on the screen. muppet effect

shoutout to lxc for trusting and believing his brother for this. you know if the situations were reversed lwj would glare him down for daring to suggest wwx was untrustworthy. and he'd be right but it's nice that lxc is so supportive

jin ling isn't easily intimidated, which is funny bc he keeps asking these perfectly reasonable questions like 'why are you trying to get into my uncle's bedchambers at night' and 'what is going on' and ignoring him/glaring at him doesn't work at all

oh you douchebag

I think su she's villainy is a bit dumb and jealousy is a weak and judgemental trait for a villain to even have but this shot makes him look like such a tool idc

personal highlights: I'm tired and I don't care much for nmj and jgy's situationship so let's make this short and sweet

meng yao's water carriers

meng yao's very smooth glide into a standing bow

meng yao's beautiful silver and white robes

meng yao deflecting questions about his intentions with "I'm just glad I...met...you 🥺'

nmj's side-eye to jgy during their brotherhood swearing-in

jgy's blatant and purposeful flirting

"I only killed a few people, can you PLEASE stop bringing it up still 🙄'

nmj yelling ASSHOLE and kicking jgy down the steps for saying he's better and more deserving than other people

sexy sexy suibian ♥

paperman!wwx going WHEW and flopping down onto lwj's hand very cute

#cql re-rewatch

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faux-ee · 1 year

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I posted 3,543 times in 2022

That's 2,736 more posts than 2021!

737 posts created (21%)

2,806 posts reblogged (79%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kyouka-supremacy

@colourofthekites

@grishaverse-chaos

@chenechen

@akhlys-san

I tagged 1,669 of my posts in 2022

#fyolai - 51 posts

#dabihawks - 50 posts

#bsd - 33 posts

#bungo stray dogs - 19 posts

#personal - 18 posts

#spotify - 17 posts

#asks <3 - 16 posts

#bkdk - 14 posts

#soukoku - 13 posts

#sskk - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#it was so unfeeling and repetitive and like. sir. i can’t relate to ur experiences and u aren’t doing a very good job making me care abt it

My Top Posts in 2022:

bungo stray dogs is a piece of media thats so filled with tumblr energy. Its like a collective mass hallucination of famous author fanfiction with just the right amount of derangedness, mental illness, generational trauma and existential crisis. Each and every character gives major gender envy. Everything is enemies to lovers to enemies to freinds to lovers to enemies. Everything the characters do is high-key illegal and everyone agrees that old guys in the government r useless except for this one triple spy who's sleep deprived to a fault. There is a guy who is chronically online and absolutely cannot leave his futon. There's another guy who could write novels in days and is more attached to a racoon than the rest of the world. bram stoker listens to spotify. bsd is the true tumblr-esque media.

Edit: and as it often appears bsd characters become each other's blorbos. They wanna hug each other they wanna see them going through the undying pain of human existence they spin them around in a mental microwave or smth

Edit edit: also tumblrinas love literary analysis and bsd is full of literary motifs

420 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

ranpoe actually foils fyolai bcs when poe had his mind set on killing ranpo he had a moment of realization that he wouldn't know how to live in a world w/o him, and several chapters after he became besties w/ ranpo, but nikolai already knows that fyodor is his intimate friend, there will never be another person like fyodor for him, yet still decided to kill him, bcs he "wants freedom more than any kind of joy"

434 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

Kacchan is the only thing Izuku allows himself to have

and it's why Izuku’s always vague when it came to the intensity of his feelings about Kacchan & why Katsuki at first instinctively pushed Izuku away.

idk if anyone has done this before, but anyways here's my fav aspect abt BakuDeku's relationship: Izuku's possessiveness over Kacchan and Kacchan only.

So I've been thinking abt Kamino a lot, and specifically two scenes: a) Izuku shouting "Give him back to me!" to Mr. Compress, and b) Izuku's devastated scream after Bakugo was taken away.

Izuku is an extremely selfless person, with only the heart for "saving people". That was part of the reason why he was almost immune to Katsuki's bad attitude towards him: dude doesn't think about himself a whole lot, alright. He's just kind of out of it. An observer. He wants to focus on his own feelings much less than he cares about others.

When have you seen Izuku do something for himself? Sure, he wanted to become a hero, he wrote 13 notebooks' worth of hero analyses. But this may as well only be an exertion of his obsession abt quirks & strategies, because despite all the talk about his dream, he never actually thought to exercise and improve his body strength before he got the OFA.

Here's an idea: Izuku doesn't know how to do things for himself, unless given a larger purpose. He takes little care of his own ambition before taking the world's weight onto his shoulders.

And he is subconsciously avoiding any selfish thinking, especially any private feelings he has about Kacchan, platonic or otherwise.

He doesn't know what has triggered the blackwhip; can't remember what Kacchan told him before almost sacrificing himself to save him; doesn't remember whatever made him go berserk in battle. He acted like none of this emotional turmoil he experienced happened at all and went back to being this people-saving, smiling sunshine every. single. time. Even after Kamino, his first thought was Kouta, except that after Todoroki mentioned Katsuki, the light returned to his eyes and he finally broke down.

Izuku actively avoids thinking about anything that causes strong emotions to erupt in him, yes, but more importantly, even when he is recounting these experiences to others, he omits whatever part that concerns Kacchan (i.e. when he told his classmates “I couldn’t save what was in front of me” - right, but Izuku, why are you describing Kacchan as if he is just anyone else instead of the person you have looked up to for all your life?)

He doesn’t allow himself to be selfish, to be partial, to treat Kacchan as somone special even when that’s what he does (notice how he’s always going like “Kacchan and the others”).

Let’s look at what he said to Mr. Compress again: “Give him back to me!”

Didn’t he almost sound like a child who was robbed of his favorite toy?

Why would he feel such possessiveness over Kacchan, though?

Kacchan is Izuku’s Symbol of Victory, right? Izuku follows him, admires him, idolizes him (”closer to me than All Might, this amazing person in my life”). Here it is: Kacchan has been somewhat of an idol to Izuku, the incarnation of victory.

Kacchan was part of Izuku’s definition of heroism; and heroism, to Izuku, is almost like a religious belief. He draws strength from it, uses it to cope with the pain of being quirkless, and admires All Might as one might do any deity.

I’m going to go a little further here: when one prays to whatever deity one believes in, one is often praying to this concept inside one’s head, and taking what one needs from this private connection. Similarly, Izuku feels possessive over Kacchan because the latter to him is something of a god-like character, from the attachment to whom Izuku draws his desire to win. To Izuku, Kacchan is not just the Symbol of Victory. It’s his Symbol of Victory.

Katsuki is his. His sun, his god, his drive to win.

Izuku, who is so selfless that he rarely wants things for himself, doesn’t want to acknowledge that he can, in fact, be a little selfish when it comes to Kacchan.

Meanwhile, as Mr. Compress had stated, Bakugo doesn't belong to anybody. And with such a big ego Bakugo would hate to be anything but independent. Something about Izuku made him want to keep his childhood friend at arm's length; he felt as if Izuku was stronger than him, looking down on him - and where does he get this feeling? Because Izuku offered to help him once at four? Stood up to him a couple of times?

There is another dimension to it, I think: it was also because Izuku had always followed him. And Katsuki, being the kind to always over-think, could mistake Izuku's possessiveness for Izuku seeing himself above him.

If an independent person ever finds himself on the receiving end of such possessiveness, he would feel chained, scared, and pissed off. Don't come, Deku, I don't want anything to do with you because the way you stick with me as if I belong to you, it almost chains me down.

Thanks for bearing with my shipping brainrot xD

445 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

B-B-Boyfriend? Like a guy who your body moved on its own for when he was in danger? Who you've grown up with? Activated a whole new quirk for?

550 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

being invested in bsd is such a unique experience bcs u watch the anime and think oh theres mafia and detectives and terrorists this shit's so hardcore and then u open bsd wan and they r kindergarteners and magical girls and princesses and ur just like. look at my cute little uwus <3 and then u read the manga and was hit with like three different schools of philosophical thoughts and suddenly become interested in classical novels with rlly deep themes and start to develop an existential crisis. its like yeah i watched an anime abt super powers and it all went downhill from there lol

993 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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villains4hire · 2 years

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(Flame Emoji) Worst Fandoms to write in and why? Worst characters and why?

//Hoo, I would not click the readmore for fandoms further below if you don't wanna hear my takes. A lot of graphic content warnings. Remember, blacklist 'spicy goopy' as I'm not gonna tag everything as I will be talking about pedophilia/r*pe and other really graphic things.

Worst Characters: Stella from Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss: you could replace her with a cardboard cutout for an abusive wife and you couldn't tell the difference. She's incredibly one-dimensional so far and is just a plot device for Stolas at this point. A shame bc she has a banger aesthetic and possible personality, she's an unfinished character, however, so my opinion may change overtime, but I'm honestly not impressed with her direction. The Designs of the Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Characters: a good portion of them look like sticks or their limbs, make them thicker. I just feel like... this is worth mentioning as I really do dislike the paper-thin style at times, as there is some 'thicker' designed characters but to me they just look normal otherwise than just paperthin which is a shame. As the characters do have good design concepts but are just so bad looking lol. Lapis Lazuli: Oddly enough, I did rp this character as well, but I just disliked how weird the fandom was with her at times or the writer for Peridot and Lapis Lazuli clung onto them and fueled the fire (Not Sugar, it was... someone else p controversial at the time but I forget who). I've considered taking her back up at times tbh, but eh, fandom dead and I don't think anyone would be interested at this time. Elder Maxson: Literally the worst character in the Fallout series that Bethesda ever conceived before Obsidian/Black Island Studios lost control. It is everything that is awful in another villain that Obsidian wrote and it was on purpose in contrast, as Elder Maxson was not intentionally a villain and that's what makes it so much worse, as he's so much dumber than his Counter Part Elijah who was just so good as a villain. So even if Maxson was meant to be a villain, he just feels like a copy of Elijah and... for some reason was portrayed as a hero. Ayano Aishi and her Mother: Written by a man who does not know how to write mental illness even if fictional and created a fandom that made them think they know what mental illness is/demonize or sexualize people with ASPD or ASPD-like qualities. David from Camp Camp: He was funny but often written in the way of being stupid enough for certain things to push a narrative or plot along, then smart at other times. Just inconsistent as a character but had a good concept. Daniel from Camp Camp: One-Off idiot that had a lot of potential squandered to put it bluntly. Alistar from Dragon Age: I think his emotionally charged actions make him such a wimp that after everything you go through together? As yes, you can keep him if you spare Loghain or w/e his name is, he gets pissy and leaves even when your teacher Duncan probably would've converted Loghain as a political move. I actually like him at first, but it kind of came out of left field for me that I couldn't convince him/explain my reasoning to spare Loghain. Garterbelt from Panty and Stocking: Weird dynamic, was a pedo and subtly... hrm, possibly racist at times with how he was portrayed? I wasn't too sure. I really hope he's different for the apparent s2 that's coming.

//I could probably think of more... but that's all I could really think of at the time of fandoms/series I was very involved in and had a few honorable mentions possibly, but it was getting long to begin with.

Worst Fandoms: Southpark: Edgy af, drama galore. Rick and Morty Pre-Smut Tumblr Ban: Yeah, the things I saw with people shipping Rick x Morty made me blacklist that tag and the most of the people with it altogether for how many pedos it had. Camp Camp: Also suffered the same problems as above for Rick and Morty but not as bad though also was a breeding ground of really toxic behavior. Warhammer 40k (Not Fantasy): These guys are literally 4ch*n neckbeards half the time, but they're a dying breed thankfully. Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss: I'd say it's probably where a lot of pedos, rape apologists and toxicity is rn in the RPC. Thankfully, anything pedophilic is mostly confined to discord servers I've noticed, but it does exist on here... at times. Dark Souls/Souls-Like Games: I've had some good experiences but a lot of the RPC in it aren't the type of peeps I'd hang around usually, v elitist. Some are cool tho. League of Legends: YEAH I WROTE IN THIS FANDOM, but god. One of the worst but also first experiences I had for rping. I was... an edgelord (granted I mucked it up even then as a joke) but people loved me and fed my ego in it for a good while which it really was bad for me as I was considered 'THE CHARACTER' rper of that time period which was really bad to fall into that mindset, granted I was 18 compared to being 29 at the time. It was probably my most successful blog right next to this one where I sat at around 1.2k followers before I finally moved in. I grew a lot from League and I no longer play it or write for it anymore... but I've considered maybe a few characters from it. I just have a lot of GOOD and BAD memories with it.

#long post #ooc #answered #spicy goopy

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queenofnohr · 2 years

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i don't think I've seen you talk yet about aias' bond with any of the scions, how does he feel about each of them?

ok so this might be a little boring bc Aias’ strongest bonds are def not with most of the scions so a lot of these are going to start with “they’re not that close, but...”

spoilers for all expansions under the cut

Minfilia - Never had the chance to really get close to her. His relationship with the Scions pre-StB was very...... work only. It’s not that he didn’t want to get close to anyone, but that he didn’t know how to be a person, really. His role in ARR...... He thought of himself simply as a god-slaying machine. He didn’t resent that role - actually, he was happy to have some sort of purpose even if it wasn’t his “ideal worth dying for” - but he still wasn’t in a place where he could really form bonds with people. For Minfilia’s part, she probably wanted to reach out to him, wanted to make the Scions feel like somewhere to belong, but how do you reach out to a man who treats himself like a machine, yaknow? One very distinct thing, however, is in seeing Minfilia as Hydaelyn’s Voice, when everyone else acted as though she was dead...... seeing her still alive but giving her body unto Hydaelyn, he surmised that even if he wasn’t allowed to die as a “hero,” still, he could martyr himself in life if he gave himself body and soul to his ideals (in this case, his dead friends)

Y’shtola - They’re not really that close, but she was the first Scion he met in Limsa. He’s always happy to help her do the heavy lifting for her research, but doesn’t really know how to approach her otherwise, so she has to initiate any conversation or whatever if they are to chat

Papalymo - Wasn’t all that close with him, but after his sacrifice at Baelsar’s Wall & considering Lyse’s past and how he watched over her, he has a great respect for him.

Lyse - Again, not all that close, but he has a lot of respect for her. The reason he doesn’t try to carry on Papalymo’s memory is because he knows he’s safe with and watching over Lyse. I honestly feel like I should play StB again cuz maybe I could fit more into the Aias Lore, cuz now that I think about it, perhaps seeing her flounder when losing Papalymo, but slowly start to find her place in the world did impact him somewhat, even if it wasn’t an immediate thing, but rather after he’d reflected on it a bit

Thancred - Perhaps one of the few people who calls Aias “Ice.” He, Thancred, and Urianger make up the sad grieving men of the Scions, so they vibe on that level. Aias usually doesn’t have much to say to Thancred, but Thancred is sociable enough to him, so I presume they talk more than Aias talks to most of the others.

Urianger - I don’t necessarily think they have full-blown conversations very often, but I think they can sit and enjoy each others’ company very well. I don’t think Aias has ever doubted Urianger during any of the times he’s had to be secretive. Since Aias likes books, but doesn’t really have the attention span to sit and read, I like to imagine him sometimes asking Urianger to tell him stories before he and Asha are a Thing, or during the rare times he has Scion business and Asha isn’t with him.

Krile - Again, not too close, but he finds her very reliable especially after watching over everyone so diligently in ShB. Probably the person he turns to immediately if/when there’s trouble.

Tataru - Easy to get along with, and always happy to help her out. He usually simply sits and listens to her unless she asks him questions, but perhaps they bond more after ShB/EW when he gets together with Asha? I don’t really think Aias is one to go to people expressly for relationship advice, but I can imagine Tataru asking him about things that’ve happened on the first, what he’s been up to whenever he pokes his head around between returning from the First and the meat towers popping up, and Aias damn well near-glowing talking about Asha and she’s just like.... “Oh, he’s got it bad-bad.” She’s probably the one that asks him about the wife after they shack up for real

G’raha - Ahahahaaaaaaaa. They didn’t have such a hot start at the beginning of ShB to be quite honest (this is something I might get into later, but it revolves around the fact that pulling Aias to the First means his bond to Ysayle and Haurchefant was severed for the time he was there and he was. not happy. about that.) He eventually came to warm up to G’raha over his stay in the First. While many interpret G’raha’s fanboying as romantic love, in this case, in the timeline G’raha lived through, tales of Aias’ tragic love for Haurchefant (+ people consoling themselves with the idea that at least Aias would see his love again in death after he died) & tales of his “strong bond”/romance with Estinien were so prevalent that as fat as Aias’ titties are and as much as he heart eyes at him, it’s absolutely platonic because Aias is spoken for already. Post-ShB, it’s always a good time when they meet up, always exchanging stories - perhaps the Scion he talks most to because of that.

Estinien - Well. Well. The first person Aias felt like he truly saved. A man he has wept over. His brother-in-arms. To Estinien, Aias is where he can lay his lance to rest, his hope for a better future. To Aias, Estinien is the one he can pass his lance to should he fall, an extension of his own body, a continuation of a hero who can defend humanity. Up until 5.5, while they weren’t formally in a relationship, they’d end up fucking every time they’d meet up so long as one of them wasn’t in a hospital bed. They understand each other and vibe together on a different level. One of the few people Aias actually feels close to. As a side note - he would’ve been Aias’ endgame if Asha didn’t exist. As it stands now, though, Estinien isn’t so dense he can’t see how Aias looks at Asha, and so while he’d still respond to affection if Aias wanted it, he’s content to back off. Lizard pussy so good though it ruined him forever and how he’s being “taken care of” in Radz-at-Han thooooo

Alphinaud - Alphinaud is the only person in the Scions that saw and understood the extend of his affection for Haurchefant, and the only other person aside from Estinien to have experienced the entirety of Heavensward with him. Thus, they’re pretty close. Also because HW was where Aias started to become a person and Alphinaud being there means that Alphinaud was one of the first people he opened up to and could call a friend.

Alisaie - Sortaaaaaaa reserving judgment here because I haven’t finished the Unending Coil of Bahamut yet and her whole deal with Gramps may or may not mirror Aias’ whole Thing very well. In general though he gets along with her. Her clinginess/abandonment issues (?) but desperate want not to cling to anybody sorta reminds him of himself. Aside from that though, while they do get on, Alisaie is... how should I put this. She’s too well-adjusted. She gets frustrated with herself and says “no, I shouldn’t let this rule over me” and busies herself with tasks not to dwell on it. Aias sees that and is like wow. That’s crazy. Couldn’t be me.

#long post #is it too much to expect - that i would name the stars for you #i dont want to tag with all the spoiler tagssssssssss eughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #ill at least do #ew spoilers #endwalker spoilers #since those are the ones ppl would be most mad abt lol

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iceunhie · 4 months

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make a bet ! — aventurine.

premise ⁠☆ you make a bet with aventurine, but it's a little strange when you keep winning against him. (spoiler alert: he's doing it on purpose)

includes ☆ shenanigans, banter (what else did u expect) possibly ooc aventurine, written before penacony's release, reader works under aventurine's department.

a/n ☆ dedicated to meisha @meidnightrain bc she has a severe case of aventurine simp syndrome, thank u for giving me motivation to write for hsr though haha, this one was a treat to write ! i think i got his personality pretty well (hopefully) reblogs are appreciated !

“Shall we make a bet?”

Aventurine looks at you like he would a prized winning hand, purple eyes encased with barely concealed mischief, a gambler in a snazzy suit. Under his gaze, it seems as though fate itself would want to gamble with him. The odds are not in your favor today, especially with that glint in his eyes.

Fortunately for you (or is it the opposite? you can never tell), he seems inclined to bend it in your favor, as he always does.

The stack of cards are shuffled twice in your hands before you see fit to answer him, looking at the man across you. “What bet do you want us to make, exactly?”

“A simple one. We play three games of poker.” Aventurine relishes in the hitch in your breath for the catch he knows you're expecting. “And in exchange, if I lose as I predict, I want to be able to ask a favor from you.”

You eye him warily. “And what would that be?”

“For me to kiss you.”

You almost spill champagne over the cards. They say the most unexpected words come from the most transparent people, and Aventurine certainly proves that statement right. You'd gape at him shamelessly if you hadn't a sense of propriety.

“Aventurine.” you say in warning, eyes narrowed. Said man merely raises his own drink in response. “This is far from an ordinary bet already.”

“Exactly. Doesn't that make it more exciting?”

“Does it really have to be a kiss?”

“Oh, so you're considering it?”

“I am not!” you retort, but it’s hard to save even a sliver of integrity when you feel as if the burn of the champagne has reached your face, warming you like a brazier on a cold day. “What do I get in return?”

“If you win, then you get the same treatment. A favor for a favor.” Aventurine shrugs, as if the revelation was not shocking at all. He shoots you a coy grin. “A kiss if you're so inclined. I certainly won't be opposed to the matter, that's for sure.”

“You are frivolous.” translates to ‘are you seriously hitting on me right now?’

“And yet you indulge in my so-called frivolity anyway. Besides, you get to ask me a favor. It's too good of a deal, even for you.”

‘You always let me get closer to you anyway,’ is what goes unsaid. You hate that he's right. You hate that he noticed.

(You don't hate him though. Even if it would be so easy to.)

You absentmindedly run your hands through the smooth surface of the card deck, ruminating in your decision. You were not irrational. You know what you would get yourself into. But reason stands that owing one of the IPC’s most high-end individuals a favor was far too risky. Logic would tell you to fall back and do some self-reflection over attempting to partake in this foolish bet. (Your heart, however, reasons otherwise.)

You mentally prepare yourself for the answer you give, knowing you are sure to regret it. “Fine. But make it two games instead of three.”

Aventurine beams, so sincere and so overjoyed; you almost resent the fact that your heart gave a little traitorous thump. “I'll make it worth your while.”

—

“Aventurine.”

“Hm?”

“You're losing on purpose, aren't you?” The bastard has the gall to look confused, feigned as though it may be. He gives off the image of a golden retriever tilting its head —an endearing fact if not for the context at hand— acting as though you've slighted him personally. “Me? Why, whatever gave you that impression? I wouldn't do such a thing.”

You stare at the cards on the table. You've won twice. Both games. Under normal circumstances, that would've been impossible; you weren't exactly proficient in gambling as the blond, rather average in that aspect, but still, why is he making it painfully obvious he's making you win?

Does the prospect of kissing you really entice him that much? If so, then he's an idiot.

(You don't acknowledge the way your blood rushes to your ears in anticipation.)

The playful raise of his eyebrows melts to a softer one at your furrowed brows and wary gaze. It's truly a wonder, you are. You've been accompanying him with his affairs all this time and yet have not the faintest idea just how fond he is of you. Maybe you do, and you've decided to remain gracefully ignorant. He won't fault you if so; affiliations with him are bound to be complicated.

Before, he would've simply lived from your adorable reactions, but at his core, Aventurine is rather simple. Once he's seen the joys of reward, the barest glimpse of reciprocation, of course he chases the sensation. What use is his wealth and sense for an exhilarating game if not for this? You are the reason he's placed everything he has in the game he calls love— why he dares to lose, even when he never has. Even if it is he who bares his feelings first, as they say, higher risk, higher reward. And this reward in particular, is of the highest value. Of course it was.

He's pulled out of his dreamy stupor when you click your tongue, face on fire, biting the inside of your cheek. Aventurine resists the startling urge to pinch your cheek, but he waits for your decision.

“Just so you know, this is just a bet, alright?” you cross your arms, staring up at him warily. You're looking at anywhere but him. Aventurine thinks his heart might fly out of his chest by the way you look so endearing. “You lost, as you predicted.”

“I have.” he's long forgone the subtlety of his excitement, not when the prospect of being able to kiss you hangs over him like a man thrown a handful of gold. Who could resist treasures when handed to them on a silver platter?

There's silence, and then, perhaps the most satisfying thing, the reward he has chased for so, so long— “Get it over with, then.” you look so wonderful when flustered Aventurine almost lets his own feelings bubble up to the surface. You were no good for his health. He'd continue asking for more at this rate.

Even if he's across the table, he leans, unbearably close. So close you can feel how his breath fails him for but a moment, and how his eyes seem to glaze over. Lovesick. But he can't be. He couldn't possibly be. He is.

(How long were you going to deny this?)

“If you don't want to, then stop me.” Aventurine murmurs, sincerity in his words. What drives you to not refuse him like normal fails you, not when the way he looks at you so intently, so attentively, makes you feel weak. “May I?”

You shouldn't. You nod, voice breathless. “Go ahead.”

You close your eyes when he kisses you, and the fizziness of the champagne can't compare to the beat of your heart in your ears, thumping like crazy. It feels as though fireworks have set off in your chest and Aventurine pulls away, face flushed. You’ve never seen this look on him before, and you fear that if you see it again you'd never recover.

His gaze is as warm as the sun, even if you think that the sun can't compare to him in all of his entirety. You start to pull away from him a moment later when he takes your hand against his lips and mutters something incoherent against it you have to crane your neck to listen.

“Two.”

“What?”

“You won two games. That means another kiss. Or have you forgotten?” you almost laugh at the way he seems to act quite insufferably. There's a subtle pout on his face.

You smile, not bothering to fight back the way elation surges through your chest. Whatever came after this would change whatever you two would have right now, but that could be saved another day. You close the pesky distance this time.

“Sure.” you say, eyes crinkling at the sides and Aventurine has never fallen quite so hard again. “Say, what about another game?”

He catches on quick, violet eyes encased in amusement. “Oh?”

“Let's make a bet.”

“What would that be?” he's never been so giddy about anything else before.

You smirk. “This time, if I win, I get to kiss you. How's that sound?”

Over such an enticing offer, who was he to decline? Gambling with your heart on the line— there's a first for everything, he supposes.

the entire process for this was purely kiss kiss fall in love and listening to break my heart by dua lipa on repeat btw

#mhie's spirals #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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kramaku · 3 years

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Bakugou slowly takes the role of Izuku's protector and I love to see it.

Spoilers for Anime only, and since chapter 285

During the Tartarus escapees arc, Izuku has been dehumanized so much, it's insane. When I say dehumanized, I'm talking about how many people treat him like the vessel of One for All and not like a 16yo boy or a human being with feelings anymore.

"Nomu", "Number nine"

Meanwhile, Bakugou calls him by his name..

"You're the key to all of this. We can't have you dying on us."

like "If you die it's gonna be bad bc nobody can fight AFO anymore" and not "you don't deserve to die plz take care"

"please let him rest so he can fight properly"

and not "because he suffers so much and deserves rest"

I could make a long list of that but my point is, the more we go into the story and the more people prioritize saving the world over Izuku's well being, treating him like a robot to repair like they're just willing to sacrifice Izuku ('s mental health/life) and bakugou is having none of it.

Ever since he learned about OFA and AFO, he started to help Izuku training out of worry.

While the others want Izuku to be stronger so he can beat AFO, bakugou wants him to be stronger so he can survive. He's worried about losing izuku the most. As simple as that. A lot care about Izuku as well of course, but most still think beating AFO is more important than giving a kid a healthy happy long life.

Bakugou totally noticed it and it makes him mad. He yelled at All Might, his idol and the man he respect the most, for hiding something about the fourth user to Izuku when Bakugou knew secrets might be harmful to Izuku physically or psychologically since even though everyone noticed that Izuku was mentally drowning under pressure, they didn't really do anything worth noting to support him (until class 1A brought him back to UA)

Bakugou never mentioned AFO when he talked about bringing Izuku back because it's not his priority at all.

He's literally just dead worried for his friend.

Please, the first thing he asked him after being separated for weeks, with a war and a coma in between, was if Izuku was able to smile.

He genuinely cares so much about Izuku's safety and mental health it makes me want to cry. Bakugou went from being the boy's bully to his legit protector, so dare tell me otherwise.

During the battle with Shigaraki, he constantly had his eyes fixed on Izuku to be sure he wouldn't do anything risky and the moment Izuku really left his side to attack, Bakugou was pissed.

and he ended up saving Izuku, almost sacrificing for him. Not for a strategic purpose to keep OFA. His body literally moved on its own and all he could think about was everything Izuku and him went through. He wanted to save his childhood friend.

Honestly at this point I can confidently say that if Deku's death was the only solution to defeat/kill AFO then bakugou would prefer not to win. The guy who's obsessed with victory would totally prefer to lose than to have Izuku killed, that's a fact.

Now despite the apology, I dont think Izuku really understands how dedicated Bakugou is to protect him yet. I can't wait to see how their relationship will evolve.

Of course Bakugou isn't the only one who cares more about Izuku's life than OFA (class 1A, All Might, etc) but Bakugou's character development still has me crying.

#my hero academia #izuku #mha #bnha #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bkdk #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou katsuki

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jungkxook · 3 years

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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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