#but i’ve at least started using references again so that’s good

[honkshoo-zzz]

i didn’t wanna draw more saxwell,,,.,, but the parasites wanted to draw more saxwell.,…,…….

anyways go read my saxwell fic Don’t Go on AO3 :)

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[iwillmissourtalks]

SEARCHING AO3: A (SLIGHTLY) MORE ADVANCED GUIDE

Disclaimer: This is very very geared towards finding fics about a particular character rather than a pairing. My favourite guys tend to be popular-ish women that appear in a lot of fics but only as supporting characters so I’ve had to become v good at combing for things that actually centre them <3

For this guide we’re gonna use my current hyperfixation: Mel Medarda & see what we can find lol

1. Use the tag filter system as your default! It’s superior in every way to the normal search except for the “any field” section which can be pretty useful but unless you’re using it for SPECIFICALLY THAT, don’t bother.

You can access the tag filter by clicking on any common tag (we’re gonna use “Mel Medarda”) and then hitting filters.

This thing is SO useful! Poke about in the dropdown menus; each of them will have the top 10 associated tags for that category. For example the top additional tags for Mel are Angst; Slow Burn and Fluff because,,, well. yk

+ it shows the number of fics with those tags under the “main” tag of Mel Medarda!

2. Keep an eye out for character specific tags! Now that we’re definitely using the tag filtering system we can start actually filtering through those tags <3

Most characters will have common but specific tags that both name them and imply something about their arc in the fic. A frequent example is something like “X character needs a hug”, or more obviously: “X character centric”.

These are my go-to tags for Mel! Most characters will have a variation of this set + some others (“BAMF character name” is also a pretty common one in older fandoms) and any one of these (INDIVIDUALLY, at most filtered in sets of 2) will lead to a few hundred results. It’s not 100% flawless because a lot of authors over-tag, but a solid 80% of the fics under these tags will at least heavily feature the character you’re looking for.

3. Filter by summary!!

At the bottom of the tag filters there’s a section called search within results. This is your Best Friend.

summary: “_”

^ for easy copy/paste

What this script will do is search for whatever you put in the quotation marks and then only give you fics with that thing in the description. I like to use it for character names but it also does a pretty good job filtering for tropes — try using it for vampires lol

Doing this with Mel narrows down her character tag from 7000+ to just under one and a half thousand fics, all of which at the very least include her name in the description.

4. RAREPAIRS ARE YOUR FRIEND! Canon but only semi-popular ships are infinitely more likely to get tagged in the background than say, for example — melvik (nobody is writing background melvik). This tip only works if you’re willing to multiship for more content of your guy but it is very effective.

5. Related to tip 4: Search by otp! If you’re locked in on a particular pairing that’s more popular, you can search for fics that ONLY include that ship.

otp:true

^ for easy copy/paste (again)

This is super useful and also the main reason I don’t tag side pairings in my own fics! Also remember to use this script with ship tag rather than just a character one — otherwise it won’t work.

6. Parent tags exist! This is less of a strategy and requires more trail & error, but lots of tags filter into each other. For another Mel-related example, filtering by the Only Meljay tag would also being up fics tagged with Jayce/Mel Medarda-centric — despite (potentially) not having the original tag you filtered by. This is because Jayce/Mel Medarda-centric is the Parent of the original tag, meaning ao3 has deemed the two tags related enough to appear in each other’s search results.

This is something done manually by ao3 staff so the consistency of parent tags are a little weird sometimes.

More practically, this is an interaction to keep in mind when blocking tags. If for example you were to exclude “Torture” from your search, ao3 would also automatically exclude —

Implied/Referenced Torture

Physiological Torture

Aftermath of Torture

And probably many more.

Even if the broad category of torture isn’t tagged in a fic, the specific referenced type of torture counts — to ao3 — as a tag of torture by itself.

Interestingly, the “sub-categories” of tag don’t feed into each other this way. You can block Physiological Torture and still see fics tagged with Implied/Referenced Torture or Aftermath of Torture.

Knowing this is useful in the sense that the more specific you get with a blocked tag, the less likely you are to accidentally filter out something you would actually be fine with (or inversely blocking a general category you HATE means you don’t have to obsessively filter out every possible iteration of that thing you don’t like).

You can tell tag is a Parent Category by searching for a Sub Category and blocking what you think is the Parent. This will result in 0 results.

Implied/Referenced Torture tag after blocking the Torture tag.

Each of these strategies are things to be done in waves or in combination with one another. Casting a wide net and then narrowing it down is really important, too many tags and you end up with no results.

Ao3 has an INCREDIBLY robust set of archival tools. It’s an amazing site and if a fic exists and you know what you’re doing, you should always be able to find it.

Happy reading <3

[sliced-peaches]

hit it off right

Jeong Jaehyun x reader | 5.8k | friends to…?

After hearing about him for what seems like forever, you finally meet Jungwoo’s hot roommate. But it’s a lot more wholesome than anything else.

📀 now playing: say it - maggie rogers // decent - bas, amaarae // perfect places - lorde // dear to me - electric guest

a/n: seeing Jae getting drunk with YoungJi did something for me. I miss him and it’s really hard being a military wife. this is part of a larger collection coming soon, so nothing spicy. pls enjoy~

mentions of: other nct members, bff! Jungwoo, alcohol consumption, marijuana usage, light flirting, honestly tho everyone is just shy and cute and silly

A few days before the party, you’d asked Jungwoo what kind of wine his roommate liked. Since it was a celebration, you figured you should at least bring a gift.

“He told me to tell you to not bring anything.”

“How could he even know?” You whine, incredulous.

“Because I know you and your habit of balling out on people who are being celebrated.”

There’s not much you can say to that. You are known to bring a nice bottle of something that suits the taste of the one being celebrated. You love to see the joy on someone’s face when they get a tailored gift.

It’s the least you could do for someone when you notice their hard work. It feels good to appreciate someone, especially a friend like Jungwoo. It’s only natural you’d extend the perks to his roommate, right?

“You talk to your roomie about me?” You coo, poking his cheek. Setting his coffee cup down, he nods, seemingly pleased to share this piece of information with you.

“In passing. I told him you were coming, that I invited your coworker, too. I’ve gushed about her to him a few times. He just kinda smiled? Not in a weird way. Like… I don’t know. He just stared at me for a few seconds. Then he said he was happy to hear that. So-“

“Sounds like he’s in full support.”

Jungwoo smiles, bringing the cup back to his lips. Then he gives you a sly look over the rim before he speaks again.

“He also asked me about you.”

“What about me?”

“I guess I talk about you all the time, right? I told him about your art, all the art shows you’re in. I’m sure I’ve shown him a picture of you before, like from that time we went to the beach.”

“You showed your roommate my bikini photos?”

His eyes widen and he starts to immediately apologize when raise your hands to cut him off.

“Wait. Did he like them?”

“He… didn’t say much of anything if I’m being honest.”

“Oh.”

“Which doesn’t really mean anything, honestly. Sometimes he just doesn’t have anything to say.”

“…okay that’s a little better.”

It’s hard to imagine Jungwoo living with someone who doesn’t talk as much as he does.

The way you two often communicate is rapid-fire, dramatic, occasionally riffing off the other’s jokes. He likes to share his thoughts out loud and use you as a sounding board. You like to ramble about abstract art ideas and the special interest of the week.

Trying to picture your yap king living with someone who probably makes three facial expressions a year (says Jungwoo) makes you wish you could be a fly on the wall.

“How much have I told you about Jae? I know he’s always out, or at work so….”

His roommate’s name is Jaehyun. All you really know about him is that he’s close in age to Jungwoo, he used to be really competitive m, and that he has a cousin somewhere in Europe. Not much else past that.

“One time I was over you showed me a photo or two from when you guys were in high school. I’ve seen him in your stories too.”

“You said he was cute! I forgot about that.”

You recall a guy with dark hair and a cute bowl cut, wearing the same basketball jersey as Jungwoo. When you said cute, you were referring to their round faces and goofy hair cuts. The more recent pictures on Instagram were usually from an angle where you couldn’t really see his face, but he was always dressed nice from what you could tell.

“He was! Little cutie stranger man.”

There’s a beat.

“Okay, so about that. He’s was cute but now he’s, like, super handsome.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, he’s hot. Bulked up, started dressing nicer, smells good. His jawline is insane. He should actually model. I didn’t know he was going to look like that when we grew up, you know?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Damn, you ever told him all that?”

“All the time, actually. He’s so sick of me. At this point I’m just saying something that’s objectively true. You’d be lying if you thought he was ugly. So that being said-“

He whips his head towards you, you watch a plot and scheme form in his brain. His lips curl into something devilish.

“Careful not to fall in love with my roommate, yeah?”

You blink at him, two times. Three times.

“Huh?”

His words sounded like a warning, but it feels like he very much would prefer you do the opposite.

“I just feel like he’s someone you’d fall for.”

“You’ve never seen me fall for anyone. Not once since you’ve known me.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m saying… I think you guys will get along well.”

“Don’t hope too hard, but I’m sure he’s lovely.”

Sighing, Jungwoo offers you a sympathetic look. You ignore it and instead check for any emails from the art festival you’re vending at later in the month. It’s not much help, as you can still feel his eyes on you.

“I think he’d be good for you.”

“I don’t think playing matchmaker with your friends is that good of an idea,” you clipped.

Right before you met Jungwoo in senior year of college, you’d been in a relationship that ended pretty badly. You were in love, and you think he was, too. At one point at least.

But when things run their course, and you stay in them too long, they start to drain you of everything.

You’d lost a lot of time and energy trying to be pretty enough, interesting enough, desirable enough to keep the spark alive. To keep his attention. But to no avail. It was like he was just waiting for you to leave.

After a while, feeling empty and settling for whatever he could toss your way was too much to bear. It was just time to let go.

It was hard when at the end, you realized he just didn’t love you like you loved him. But was too scared himself to be honest with you about it.

Heartbreak was one thing, but grieving a relationship that wasn’t all that real was another. It took you a long time to move through that pain.

Jungwoo watched you put a lot of effort into rebuilding your personality, your self worth, your confidence. He was nothing but supportive, as were your other friends, dragging you to every show in the city, joining you at a new cafe or listening to your new ideas about art you’d been neglecting. And Jungwoo’s friends were a wonderful addition to your life, as well.

It was beyond being choosy- you’d taken yourself out of the dating game altogether, focusing on work, art, your friends. Yourself.

Now you were very careful not to let anyone in and disrupt that. It’s been a beautiful life to fall back into; you’d hate to lose it to the wrong person.

Jungwoo is nothing but understanding still, squeezing your arm instead of pushing any further.

“Well, regardless, I know you’ll get along well. Even as friends.”

You roll your eyes at him, a small smile creeping back onto your face.

“Don’t look into his eyes, though, seriously. He’s something else.”

On the trip over to Jungwoos apartment your friend tells you about her day, catching you up on some work gossip and her roommates string of interesting dates.

She laughs at how engrossed you are in her words, loving how excited you are to listen to the tea. You’re asking questions, connecting dots. The entertainment is delicious.

“I’m never on shit, so I’m living vicariously through you guys,” you sigh.

“We’re on shit tonight! I’m excited to party with Jungwoo.”

You flit your eyes over to her. “Yeah?”

“Girl, yes. He seems like a good person to party with. He’s always so bubbly and sweet when we go out for coffee, and always supportive of you so he’s good in my book.”

You wish she knew why you were smiling so big.

“He is a sweetheart, and a wonderful friend. I feel like you guys will get along well, I’m surprised we haven’t all gone out before.”

Pulling your phone out, you open your camera to check for a lipgloss reapplication when text from Jungwoo comes through.

woo-ah: 🎶 what’s ur ETA?🎵

“C-can I be honest with you?”

Immediately you lock your phone, adjusting your body to give her your full attention.

“Of course you can.”

She glances towards the driver, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth like she’s telling you a juicy secret.

“I think he’s gorgeous.” Her cute confession has you both giggling like schoolgirls in the back of the rideshare. “Don’t tell him, please!”

“Babe, your secret is safe with me.” You pinch your fingers together, pretending to zip your lips. “You wanna hear a secret?”

Her eyes widen in anticipation.

“I think he thinks you’re cute, too.”

“Shut up, no way!”

“Let’s just say I have insider info.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

you: appx 4 min 🤠

woo-ah: 🪩🕺🫶🏼

You lock arms with your friend as you lead the way into the apartment building, being here enough times to know what floor and that the right elevator is faster than the left.

She’s talking about the book her roommate just recommended her as you get to Jungwoos floor. You even ask her to send you a text, saying that she should start a bookclub as you rap your knuckles on the door.

Jungwoo opens the door, moving to hug you both and welcome you into the apartment.

“Come in, come in!”

Music is playing from a speaker, and a chorus of voices comes from the living room.

You walk ahead of Jungwoo and your friend, who are exchanging thank you’s for invitations and gifts of alcohol, and a chorus of voices welcomes you in the living room.

Doyoung and Donghyuck practically race and slide around in their socks to hug you and kiss you on the forehead and you pull them in for a haphazard group hug.

“Long time no see!” Doyoung clasps his hands together. “It’s so nice to have us all together at one time.”

“What a mom, we’re here to get shitfaced.” Donghyuck teasing Doyoung is secretly something you live for, but you pretend to defend Doyoung from him.

“Let us get a few drinks in before you start shit talking him, damn!”

The guys make sure you’re introduced to the rest of their friends, the ones you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. You’ve heard all their names in conversation, usually when talking about some social event or fun times they had back in school. It was wonderful to finally put names to faces, and they were more than happy to do the same for you.

“Jungwoo finally brought you around!” Renjun and Jaemin cheer. “We’ve been wanting to meet you for so long.”

You blush under all the affection from them.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you guys.”

“Come on, you have to try the cocktail YangYang made.”

Dragging you into the kitchen, you’re flooded by more introductions, jokes and insanely loud laughter, and it feels like you’ve been doing this for years with them already.

YangYang passes you a glass, a sliced lemon garnishing the side and all. You take one sip, then immediately take another. “Wow, this is delicious. Thank you!”

“There are three kinds of liquors in there,” he says, shooting you an apologetic look. “All light, but they told me I had to get everyone drunk, so-“

Before he can even try to apologize, stop him.

“That’s my kind of drink, then!” And you propose a toast with whoever’s in the kitchen.

The cheers begin to die down when someone walks into the kitchen.

Jungwoo has a lot of attractive friends. You knew this from the jump. He’s a model, he had model friends, friends who were in entertainment and the arts. From seeing whoever was on his Instagram story every few weeks, to getting drinks with everyone else occasionally, you’d gotten very used to being surrounded by pretty men.

Jungwoo did not prepare you well enough for Jeong Jaehyun.

“It’s our boy! Congratulations!”

The kitchen erupts into more greetings and well wishes as the man of the hour had just arrived. You sit back as everyone moves into pat him on the back, hug him or, like Donghyuck, kiss him right on the cheek.

Everyone’s voices just turn into background noise as you take him in.

He smiles the most beautiful smile you’ve ever been blessed enough to witness, and you have to force yourself to take a large sip of your drink so not to gawk at him.

Renjun and Jaemin motion for you to come closer, and you use the one solid second you have to steel your nerves as you step closer to them.

Jaemin slings his arm around you. “Jae, have you met our girl yet?”

Renjun playfully shakes his arm. “Jungwoo has been keeping her from us for eons.”

Jaehyun takes a step closer to you. He’s tall, much taller than you, so you have to tilt your head back to fully look at him.

And what a sight to see.

Jaehyun smiles again, a little shy but just for you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, smile so sincere and kind like he’s smiling at someone he’s known for years.

Extending his hand out to you, he wants to greet you properly. Shakily you place your smaller hand in his. But instead of shaking your hand, he uses both hands to gently hold it.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

The baritone voice almost knocks you on your ass.

Taking take a moment to will some confidence, some chill to come through when you speak, you swallow and push your shoulders back.

“You as well, Jaehyun. It’s been a long time coming, yeah?”

It’s taking everything in you to sound normal and relaxed, unfazed by this man.

He cocks his head to the side and laughs, his nose crinkling and smile lines that resemble whiskers making themselves visible. The sight makes your head spin.

“A very long time.” He releases your hand, and you place it against the side of your glass hoping it will absorb some of the heat from the exchange. “Thank you for coming.”

With your resolve expiring in seconds, you’re so thankful for Jungwoo making his way into the kitchen. While he introduces your work friend to Jaehyun, you shuffle out the kitchen alongside Renjun and Jaemin.

You sit on the armrest of the couch, listening to them bicker over what game the party should play first, remembering how to breathe.

Jaehyun quietly settles into a chair for one close to you, tuning into the commotion. He doesn’t make a move towards you, and you’re glad even if just for a moment. Out the corner of your eye, you take him in.

Handsome isn’t the right word to use, you think. He’s dressed clean and simple, nice jeans and a white t-shirt. The side profile is something unreal, perfect chiseled features but his face still soft and welcoming. His dark hair is slightly pushed back, a few stands falling over his forehead. He leans forward to tap Jaemin on the shoulder, complimenting him on ‘how big he’s gotten’ at the gym, with the younger preening under his praise.

Just in the short time in the same room, it’s clear that Jaehyun is like a big brother. And from what Jungwoo has told you is super sweet and caring. That alone makes you want to know him more, and makes him all the more attractive.

Looking over at you, he offers you a small smile which you mirror to avoid coming off as awkward. Noticing that you are both nursing the same drink, he raises his glass towards you for a small toast.

“To you and the summer,” you offer, raising your glass as you do so.

“I can drink to that.”

You take another large swig of your drink, hoping after the third your nerves can handle more than two sentences next time.

It’s silly, you think, to be this affected by a man. An attractive one, yes. But just a man. A friend of a friend, even.

Jungwoo’s words echo in the back of your mind, that he thought you and Jaehyun would get along well. Part of you doesn’t want to prove him right, but another part of you wonders if getting along with Jaehyun wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

So you try your best to start and make conversation.

“I heard about your promotion, congratulations!”

“Ah thank you,” he says, smiling into his cup. “It’s actually more of a career change.”

“Really? What are you going to be doing?”

He takes a minute to respond, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard in the first place. Before you can repeat yourself, however, he’s speaking again.

“I’m… writing music. Singing some, too. For me and for others.” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll be working with Taeyong a lot, in his studio.”

Eyebrows raising, you lean in a bit.

“You sing, Jaehyun?”

“Sometimes.” He takes a drink. “I write stories on artists, interview people in music. Do some editing. The company I work for was really cool about letting me try different things, I really liked working for them.”

There’s a moment where you’re not sure if he’s going to speak again, and right when you think you should ask another question he continues.

“But I always wanted to sing my own songs, produce my own work. My current line of business has its perks, a lot of connections too. So I’ve been working on my own stuff on the side.”

You didn’t peg him as someone in performance- he’s so pretty you’re surprised he isn’t a model or an actor honestly. But he doesn’t seem to be anything anyone would think at first glance.

“That’s so exciting. Especially working with friends, I like Taeyongie’s music. And ’m really happy to hear you’re able to chase after your dream.”

“Thank you, I’m excited to share.”

He looks at you through his eyelashes as he takes another drink.

So we’re both trying to numb our nerves, you thought to yourself.

“I hope I get to hear some music from you soon.”

He casts another smile your way, and that’s when you know the liquor is kicking in because it doesn’t send you reeling this time.

“I hope you do, too. Soon.”

“Shots?”

Everyone gathers around in the living room, passing small glasses around to those partaking in alcoholic festivities tonight. You pass one to Jaehyun, who holds it up against the light.

“I haven’t taken a shot in a long time.”

“I got you the good shit, Jae.” Jungwoo holds up two expensive bottles. “Whiskey? Or gin?”

“Oh shit… let’s do the gin. Sticking with lights tonight.”

He asks for your preference, and you do the same.

Jungwoo opens the bottle of gin and pours the first round of shots for the night. After he pours his own, he holds his glass up for a toast.

“I know this is, like, the fourth toast of the night but it probably won’t be the last if I’m being honest.”

Taeyong groans. “I’m betting on at least seven in total.”

“Those are rookie numbers,” YangYang yells out, the younger boys cackling and suggesting higher numbers.

“Anyway!” Jungwoo bangs the gin bottle on the coffee table. “This is the emotional one. It’s the end of the summer and I hate to see her go. But we’re moving into fall, and falling into our new lives-“

Donghyuck pretends to yawn.

“Dude shut up, it’s just Jaehyun-”

“I’m not finished!” And he taps the bottle again, your head falling against the back of the couch in silent laughter. “Thank you all for being part of another summer and thank you guys for coming to celebrate one of my closest, oldest friends.”

“Literally.”

Doyoung throws a pillow at Donghyuck and motions for Jungwoo to continue.

Jungwoo turns to Jaehyun, who’s made his way onto the couch alongside you and your friend. “I’m happy to see you make your wildest dreams come true. I can’t wait to see you become the sexy superstar you were always meant to be. Cheers!”

The room is full of cheers and then groans from knocking back shots with no chasers, but it’s a pleasant burn as it slides down your throat.

You blow a kiss at Jungwoo, wiping a fake tear from your eye. “Your speech was beautiful. Very moving.”

The next hour is filled with mini beer pong (players had to sip water instead of alcohol, many thanks to Doyoung), stories about the boys time in school or how some of them met their partners, and shared soju.

The boys complain that he’ll cheat if he plays so instead Jaehyun shares a strong bottle of peach soju, his favorite, with you and your coworker.

At first, it’s very cute to just watch Jaehyun laugh at all of his friends antics. He enjoys listening, occasionally cracking a few jokes or making funny noises. But he’s more than happy to settle back into the couch and observe.

But he’s also big on being a good host, even if he’s the one being celebrated- if he isn’t offering you another drink he’s offering to grab something from the kitchen for you. They’re small but clear gestures to make sure his couch neighbors are as comfortable as he is.

He’s laid back and quiet but attentive- it has you swooning a bit. It’s a contrast to the rest of the men in the apartment, who are also sweet but characteristically loud and rambunctious. You love it, but it’s fascinating to watch Jaehyun hum and giggle to himself rather than dominate a conversation.

After you clear the second soju bottle and Jungwoo has wedged himself between you and your friend, you think you hear Jaehyun giggle beside you.

“What’s so funny?” You laugh, setting the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

He just shrugs, cheeks beginning to flush from the alcohol. He’s pretty like this, you think.

“Are you a silly drunk, Jae?” You tease, catching the attention of Donghyuck.

“Oh man, he’s gonna start getting real silly soon.” The younger man comes to sit on the armrest closest to Jaehyun, affectionately brushing his hair off his forehead. He weakly tries to swat Donghyucks hand away.

“I’m not silly,” he tries to argue, way too cute and whiny compared to the man you met just two hours ago.

“You’re sooo silly right now,” Donghyuck laughs. “She’s going to have to take care of you soon!”

His eyebrows shoot up and he tries to sit straighter, attempting to coolly settle against the back of the couch. “No, no. I’m fine. I’m-“

“Come get some air with us!” Jaemin and Donghyuck pull him up by his arms, with little to no resistance from Jaehyun. He just rolls his eyes as they pull him to his feet.

Jaemin cheers, pushing him towards the sliding door to the deck.

Looking over his shoulder, he nods at you. “Need anything while I’m up?”

You wave him off towards the door.

“No, I’m okay. Go get some air.”

With you beaming up at him, Jaehyun swears the room has gotten a few degrees hotter. The air will do him good.

Jaehyun finds you in the kitchen later, just finishing one of the cookies someone brought. You pass one to him and he finishes it in one bite.

“How many drinks in are you?”

“Shit… I’m at about four. Not including that shot.”

“I think I’m at about the same,” he says, shuffling closer to you at the kitchen island overlooking the living room.

There’s a moment of silence that you share, watching all of his and Jungwoos friends (and yours now) fill up the apartment with laughter (and some screaming- Renjun set Mario Kart up on the tv).

Your heart swells knowing how loved Jungwoo is, as well as Jaehyun.

But then it dawns on you that you haven’t seen Jungwoo or your friend in a while. Before you can mention that to Jaehyun, he bumps his hip against yours.

The alcohol might not have been enough to turn the alarms off in your brain yet, but your body is slow to react to him essentially snuggling into your side. He’s warm, and he smells warm too. Like a vanilla candle. There’s something else you can’t place, but it’s more than pleasant.

“I have to tell you a secret.” He whispers, and it’s cute and kind of whiny.

“A secret?” You say, barely over a whisper. He nods slowly, looking into the crowd.

He can’t see shit, in all honesty.

“I may or may not be a little crossed.”

“That’s what I smell on you?”

“Shit, is it bad?” Just like that, he’s a little more self conscious than he is silly. He smells his shirt in a few different places, earning a laugh from you.

“No, you’re fine. It’s because you’re so close that I can smell it.” He sighs and laughs almost at himself. “Is that where you and the boys went?”

“Yeah. I don’t usually smoke but it’s something like a special occasion.”

“Absolutely it is. You deserve it.”

He simply hums, letting a a few seconds pass before he speaks again.

“You smoke?”

“Weed? Rarely.”

“Cigs?”

“Not once in my life.”

“Good for you, we’re all nicotine addicts in here.”

“Vape away, I could never judge.”

At that you both turn towards the other at the same time, chests inches apart.

His eyes are low from the weed, the whites tinted red. He’s looking down at you, a silly, boyish grin on his lips. You can’t help but blush under his gaze, lips curving into a grin of their own.

“Thanks for coming tonight.” His voice is soft, barely audible. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning into him, wishing to hear him a little louder.

“Of course, I had to support the homie. And play wingman.”

He tilts his head back to glance around the room , the realization hitting him then.

“Oh shit, I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Then I guess I did a good job. I barely did anything but whatever.”

He laughs, voice deep and rumbly. “You did great.”

He leans onto the counter, his arm resting closing to where your hip sits against the edge. He slowly shifts his eyes back over to you, looking over your frame. Just once, even his sluggish brain is careful not to get ahead of itself.

“I’m glad we finally got to meet.”

“I am too.” Your skin is on fire under his intense gaze. It’s not so much intense as it is just so warm, so amiable. You deflect to take some of the heat off of you, quite literally. “Jungwoo talks about you all the time.”

“Yeah? What does he say?”

That you’re so fucking handsome and I’d be stupid to lie and disagree.

“That you don’t say too much, but you’re a really good friend.”

A surprised look washed over his face, then he turns sheepish.

“He’s…… that’s sweet of him.” Jaehyun rubs the back of his neck, thinking on his next words as carefully as his crossed mind will allow him. “I’m glad you’re his friend. He needs someone like you.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone who isn’t as shy as him.”

“Haha, you think I don’t get shy?” It’s funny when you think back on how nerve wracking is was to shake his hand for the first time.

But he’s just giving you this knowing look now, a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“If you do, you hide it well.” You could scream. Can he see right through you? “But seriously. You push him to do well.”

Jaehyun is slow to speak, but even inebriated he’s intentional. Something you’ve learned in just the past few hours about him is that it may take him a while to get his thoughts out, but it’s more than worth it to hear what he has to say.

You hang on to every pause like your life depends on it, eager to hear what comes out of his mouth next.

“Before you guys worked together, he was a lot more… reserved. And passive? Like, he’s good at everything he does. We know this. But… he never really sought recognition.”

“You’re right. But he deserves it.”

He nods while he thinks on his next words.

“Yeah. I remember in school he was just happy to pass and be included in things. Never attracted much attention to himself. Never wanted to be in the spotlight. But since working with you, he’s become proud of the work he does. His confidence has grown. He’s louder. Funnier. You pushed him a lot.”

“That’s all him, he works hard-“

“He does, you pushed him though. When he finally started modeling last year all he could do was say how thankful he was for you. How you encouraged him, helped him with headshots. Went shopping with him and made sure he felt good going into auditions. And it took off.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“He… he said that? Really?”

“He did. You’ve been a very good friend to him.”

Blinking away the tears that started to pinprick behind your eyes, you smile at Jaehyun whose own eyes are filled with mirth. Even cross faded, Jaehyun’s words were so sincere and kind.

“Are you crying?”

You sniffle, using your thumbs to collect any tears in the corner of your eyes so not to ruin your makeup.

“I was gonna but I’m okay.”

He laughs that hearty laugh again and ruffles your hair. It’s such a small gesture, but so comfortable. Domestic even. Like you’ve been friends for years. It makes your heart even fuller than it already is and if he keeps it up, it’ll burst before the end of the night.

The alcohol coursing through you is doing nothing but spread this warmth, double time. Happiness feels good coursing through you.

“Let’s get some water, yeah?” He cocks his head toward the fridge. “Doyoung brought some sparkling water.”

You begin to follow him as he takes a few steps backwards. “What flavor?”

“We have…” He starts, opening the door to the fridge. “I can barely see. Wow.”

“Move, I’ll look.”

You hip check him out of the way, and hear someone come into the kitchen behind you.

“I’m no better, but this looks like ginger peach. And calamansi.”

“Pass me a calamansi, please? You want a sparkling water, Taeyong?”

“Do you think it’s a good mixer for gin?” He asks, loud enough for someone in the living room to hear.

Then, that someone yells out: “Another round of shots?”

Laughing, you hand Jaehyun his sparkling water, and pass a ginger and peach flavored water to Taeyong. “Let’s find out, yeah?”

More cheering is heard as you shuffle back into the living room and let Doyoung pour the next round of shots.

He’s a sweetheart and pours the shots right into you and Taeyongs cans, Jaehyun sneakily placing a sealed water bottle next to your foot.

It’s well into the night, the hour a single digit when the party starts to die down.

Jungwoo is in the loveseat for one and a half, your friend snuggled into his side.

You’ve found yourself back on the couch with Jaehyuns head resting on your shoulder and one of his legs swung over Taeyongs. Miraculously, Donghyuck has found a way to lay across you all comfortably.

“I’m going to order a ride home for us soon,” your friend says through a yawn. Donghyuck is already whining, earning some light smacks from the older boys under him.

“We’re so comfy, why would you want to mess up our cuddle pile?

“I’m not cuddling, I’m being leaned on,” you tease, grinning down at Jaehyun who can barely hold his eyes open. He’s trying his best to focus on one of your faces because he sees three, but he’s not complaining.

“Hm… my bad.” He moves to sit up, but Donghyuck just nestles into him even further, and Jaehyun can’t seem to muster up enough strength to (care) knock him into the floor. “I really… I really did try.”

Jaehyun has hit peak silly hours. From little hums and cute noises to the worst dad jokes you’ve heard in a while, you understand what Donghyuck meant earlier. Jaemin and Jungwoo even got him to cutely pose for drunk selfies earlier.

Laughing through your nose, you use the hand that’s free to reach around and pat his cheek affectionately. In this state he instinctually leans into your touch, humming in approval. You have to fight the urge to squeeze his cheeks. “Jae you gonna be alright?”

“I told you she was going to have to take care of you!” At that, he and Taeyong had enough and pushed him into the floor. He lets out a squawk as his body hits the ground with a light thud. “Fuck. It’s comfier down here anyway.”

Jungwoo slowly stands up, helping your friend to her feet. “So Donghyuck is sleeping here, literally right there. No blanket. I don’t want to see you using something weird as a replacement either.”

While the boys still present start to bicker some more, Jaehyun taps your knee to get your attention.

“I’ll be okay. Just got a little carried away.”

“You’re okay. Let’s get you to bed then?”

His eyes open a little wider, mouth parting to say something. You wait.

“Are you staying over?”

“No I’m going home tonight.”

He pouts, and it almost sends you to another dimension.

“Aw don’t make that face, I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. Good.”

You call to Taeyong, who really isn’t that much better, but he does help you get Jaehyun off the couch and down the hall to his bedroom.

You let Taeyong handle the hard part of getting him out of his jeans and under the covers, heading to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. “Jungwoo, you have any painkiller?”

“In that drawer by the stove.” He stands beside you in the kitchen. “For Jae?”

“Yeah. You want any water?”

“Nah I was good tonight. I’ll be okay.” He purses his lips. “You’re sweet for that. Taking care of him.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know… exactly what I mean.” You shake your head and walk to Jaehyun’s room, entering while Taeyong exits.

“He’s decent, just whiny.”

“Thank you, I’ll just leave this for him then.”

You approach the side of the bed where he’s sprawled out, eyes barely open but you can see them following you even in the dark.

“Brought you some water. And some painkiller. Take it when you can, yeah?”

“Hm. Tell Jungwoo to give Hyuck a blanket.”

You chuckle and ruffle his hair before moving to leave.

“Have a good night, Jaehyun.”

“Hmm…”

unknown number: hey it’s jaehyun

unknown number: jungwoo gave me your number. thanks for coming yesterday. don’t be a stranger!

[favsjjk97]

'Tis The Damn Season — JJK +18 — CH: 1

Jungkook has just returned from military service, back in Busan, where you’re finishing your orthopedic residency. After nearly a decade apart, you cross paths again. But he’s no longer the teenager chasing his dream of making his group famous, he’s now one of the most well-known idols in the country. And you’ve learned how to live without him. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

total word count (this chapter): 5,1k words

pairing: idol!jeon jungkook x reader (f)

rating: 18+

status: on going

warnings (this chapter): strong language, alcohol use, underage drinking, references to depression & burnout, long-distance relationship struggles, jealousy, public vs private identity, heartbreak, emotional trauma, break-up themes.

a.n: This story has lived in my heart since before they even returned from military service. I envisioned it from the very beginning, and now that it’s finally complete, I can truly start sharing it. I’ve created moments that don’t necessarily follow BTS’s real timeline. Whether during training, debut, or post-service, ‘cause this is a work of fiction. Some details won’t match reality, and that’s intentional: the characters may be inspired by real people, but they aren’t bound to their real lives. This story is, above all, fiction.

Index of Chapters || next

Busan, 2012

Jungkook’s family home always had the distinct scent of cinnamon. His mother loved baking in her free time, making small cinnamon treats for their Family and for you. That scent had become something of a signature that reminded you of warmth, of comfort, of home. You felt that arriving at his house was like that warm hug at the end of a tiring day. That feeling of comfort you never wanted to let go of. It was good, peaceful, warm, full of tenderness.

In fact, his house felt that way because of his family. The living room constantly echoed with laughter, his mom always made sure you were eating, staying healthy, and had time and the right mindset to study. And on those days of extraordinary exhaustion, there were the special cinnamon buns. They came with a generous layer of custard cream that she made. You loved them so much that you spent so much time there that you barely remembered what your own house smelled like. But then again, your home was different. Your parentes, both doctors, worked tirelessly, leaving the house cold, quiet, and lonely. Jungkook’s house was never like that. It was always warm and welcoming, full of life, full of love. And you loved being there. Those were your best days.

But that night was not one of them.

It was too cold, even for Busan’s winter. Just a week ago, it had been Jungkook’s mother’s birthday, but somehow, you were the one who received a gift from him too, a silver compass necklace. Now, you held it tightly against your chest, the metal cool against your skin. The air was sharp, biting at your exposed skin, but you knew Jungkook barely felt it. His dark hair hardly moved in the wind, and his eyes, those expressive, deep eyes, were wide open, focused, and filled with something. Even with your thick, padded gloves, your hands trembled slightly. Maybe because you already knew how this conversation would go.

You looked at him, trying to memorize him, the soft golden hue of his skin, paler than usual under the streetlights, the curve of his lips pressed together in hesitation, the slight redness at the tip of his nose from the chilly air. But most of all, you noticed the sadness in his eyes. You had seen it there for days now. And he had been hiding it, badly. He was never a good liar.

So, with a deep, shaky breath, you gathered the courage he couldn’t seem to find and whispered:

“How long have you known?”

His shoulders tensed slightly, but there was no confusion in his gaze. He knew exactly what you were asking. He let out a sigh, his breath forming a mist in the cold air.

“Since my mom’s birthday,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shut your eyes tightly for a second, inhaling sharply.

“Do you really have to go?” Your voice was soft, fragile, almost pleading. It was a stupid question. You already knew the answer.

Jungkook swallowed hard. This was his dream. The one he had talked about since you were kids. Since you were eleven, sitting on the school rooftop, listening to him ramble about music, about performing, about one day standing on stage. He had worked so hard for this moment, gone through so much. You had always known this day would come.

“You know I do.” His voice cracked slightly, and you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. His fingers twitched at his sides before clenching into fists. “This is my chance. I need to take it.”

Your chest tightened painfully. You had prepared for this, tried to ready yourself for this exact moment, but nothing could have prepared you for how much it actually hurt.

You nodded, pressing your gloved finger under your eye to stop a tear from falling, not that it made any difference.

“I know.” Your voice barely made it past your lips. “I just don’t know… how to do this without you.”

Jungkook let out a shaky breath before stepping forward, reaching for your hand. His bare fingers found yours despite the layers between you, and he squeezed tightly, pulling you closer.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.” His voice was stronger now, hopefull. “And when the time comes, you’ll move to Seoul for university, and we’ll finally be together again.” His lips curled into a small smile, the one that had always been your favorite.

You stared into his eyes, trying to hold onto those words, trying to believe in them.

“We’ll be together forever?” Your tears had long since escaped, but you didn’t care anymore.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“Forever.”

Busan, 2013

Jungkook had joked that your birthday present this year would be seeing him debut. You had laughed, feeling genuinely happy for him. But you missed him, the way he hugged you, the way he held your hand, the way he looked at you when no one else was around. Long-distance relationships were hard. You knew that. But you were willing to fight for this, for him. It had already been a year since he left for Seoul, and soon, you would follow. You just had to wait a little longer.

In the meantime, you found ways to fill the void. You buried yourself in schoolwork, stayed up late reading, and became the top student in your class. Jungkook was just as busy, training for hours on end, pushing himself beyond his limits. But despite everything, you still talked all the time.

Always, past midnight, your phone rang.

Jungkook’s voice was quiet, hushed as he spoke from the dormitory bathroom. He didn’t want to wake his bandmates, his new family, as he often called them.

“I fell asleep in class again today,” you mumbled sleepily, yawning into the phone.

 “You need to sleep more, dummy.” Jungkook chuckled softly.  “You work too hard.”

“Says the guy who spends twelve hours a day dancing,” you teased.

He sighed on the other end of the line, and you immediately caught the shift in his tone.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

There was a pause, a long silence that made your stomach twist. Then, finally, he murmured.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

 “Jungkook…” Your heart clenched.

“Everyone here is so good,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “And they keep telling me I need to break out of my shell, to stop being so shy. I...“ He hesitated. “What if I’m not good enough?”

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“You are good enough,” you said firmly, without hesitation. “You were born for this, Jungkook. And you’re going to make it. I promise.”

You had never, not for a single moment, doubted that Jungkook would achieve his dream. You saw potential in him and knew that if the company hadn’t seen it too, they would never have given him that chance. And one year was far too little time for a teenager to adjust to that exhausting routine, and you knew that. You also knew that Jungkook had developed the habit of doubting himself due to the pressure from all the training before debuting, so you always reassured him as many times as necessary. Because you, sometimes even more than he did, believed in it and wanted him to succeed. And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was smiling.

Busan, 2014

Since Jungkook had debuted, you had only seen him once, on Christmas. And it was starting to frustrate you. You still visited his house often because his mother missed him terribly, and having you around was a small comfort for her, a tiny way to fill the void his absence left. You didn’t mind. In fact, you liked it. You had always found more support and warmth in Jungkook’s parents than in your own, who were cold, distant, and hardly ever home. The distance had become normal, but being with his parents felt like being close to him too, even when things between you and Jungkook had started to feel… different.

It had been two years since he had left Busan to become a trainee. You knew he was working tirelessly to give BTS a fighting chance in the brutal, unforgiving entertainment industry. Meanwhile, you hadn’t done as well on your college entrance exams as you had hoped. It weighed on you heavily.

Jungkook’s calls had become rare, and sometimes, the only messages you exchanged were a simple good morning and good night. You knew he was giving his all, pushing himself, but all you wanted was your boyfriend back.

Now, he was here. His lips pressed against yours in a long, lingering kiss. It was nearly winter again, and you were on the balcony of his bedroom. His parents had already gone to sleep, so you had quietly closed the door and stolen a bottle of wine from his mother’s personal stash. Now, the bottle was empty, forgotten beside you, and Jungkook’s head rested on your shoulder as he trailed lazy, wine-flavored kisses down your neck.

“I need to tell you something.” You finally gathered the courage to speak, unsure if it was the wine or the way his kisses sent shivers down your spine that made you brave enough.

“Hmm?” He hummed, his lips still grazing your skin, his tongue teasingly flicking against it.

“I’m serious.”

He stopped abruptly. His brows furrowed as he turned to look at you.

“What happened?”

You took a deep breath, deciding to rip the bandage off quickly.

“I didn’t get into Seoul National University.” His face softened instantly. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to comfort you, but you weren’t finished yet. “Or Korea University.” You shut your eyes and took a deep, long breath. “But I did get into POSTECH.”

Jungkook blinked, processing your words. Then, suddenly, his face lit up, and before you could react, he was grinning, wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground, and spinning you in a full circle. He kissed you, deep and lingering, before pulling away to beam at you.

“Congratulations, princess.”

Your stomach twisted at his reaction. He hadn’t realized what this meant. Not yet. And, once again, it was up to you to spell it out for him.

“Jungkook… you know what this means, right?” You stared into his dark eyes. His grin didn’t fade.

“That you’re a freaking genius.”

You swallowed hard.

“That I’m moving to Pohang.”

His smile vanished instantly.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“And Seoul?” His voice was quieter now, as if he was still trying to understand.

You exhaled.

“I didn’t get into any universities there. Pohang is an amazing school, and it’s still somewhat close to Busan.” You lowered your head, feeling tears sting your eyes. “I’m sorry, babe. I failed at writing the future we planned.” Your voice broke, and the weight of your disappointment crushed you. Your chest tightened painfully, and shame crept up your spine. You didn’t dare look at him.

Jungkook had worked so hard, had come so far. And you had spent years planning a future with him, and now, because of your own incompetence, that plan had crumbled. A sob tore from your throat before you could hold it back, and suddenly, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his warmth. His lips pressed against the top of your head in a gentle kiss.

“You didn’t fail.” His voice was soft, steady, but firm. He held you tightly, as if willing you to believe him. “We’ll figure it out, even with you in Pohang.”

Finally, you lifted your head to look at him.

“Are you sure?” Your voice trembled, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

Jungkook’s own eyes glistened as he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“I’m sure.”

Pohang, 2015

You were at a college party, drunk. Completely drunk. Dancing with your best friend from university, Leah, you felt radiant. She was brilliant, magnetic, and you were genuinely happy. The alcohol played a part in how outgoing and cheerful you felt, but you didn’t mind.

Summer break was approaching fast, and you were excited to go home. College had been exhausting, draining every ounce of energy from you. Despite everything, all you wanted was a few days to sleep, free of responsibilities, no classes, no club activities you had foolishly thought you could handle all at once.

The university frat house had set up a huge screen in the living room. Bright, colorful lights illuminated the space, and the furniture had been pushed to the corners, leaving a wide-open area for dancing. In one hand, you held a bottle of soju, and in the other, Leah’s fingers were intertwined with yours. A group of dorm friends surrounded you, the air buzzing with excitement.

Then, a familiar melody reached your ears.

Your body moved on instinct, turning toward the screen, where the face of Kim Namjoon, one of Jungkook’s bandmates, appeared. Your entire body stiffened, your smile fadded and you abruptly let go of Leah’s hand.

Of course, you had seen BTS content before, posters, music playing in stores, random clips online. But seeing it here, projected onto a screen at a fraternity party, was diferent. The next face to appear was Jungkook.

Your heart lurched in your chest as his voice filled the room. You held your breath.

Leah chuckled, watching your reaction.

“You like BTS, right?” she asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “I love this song.” She hummed along. “Dope.”

You didn’t answer and distanced yourself a bit from her, who didn’t care and stared to dance to the song. You stared at the music video like you were seeing it for the first time, even though you had watched it before. It was a new song. You used to play some music in your headphones while studying. Rarely did you ever let it play loudly. You knew BTS was growing in fame, but at the same time, somewhere deep in your chest, they felt like your little secret, so you didn’t talk much about them. With anyone. You couldn’t. Because of a contract. Not even when you snuck out to one of their concerts in the middle of the night and felt a little pathetic. But you knew some things and situations were bigger than you, so you sort of knew that all that was left was to accept that certain things were what they were, and that was the end of it. But you avoided the topic because you didn’t know how far you could carry the lie or the omission that you were dating one of the members of BTS.

You loved Jungkook, but you hated every second of that secret. Even though Jungkook tried to make it seem like a oath rather than a secret. Which usually worked every time you weren’t angry about the fact. Those moments, however, were becoming rare now, as your frustration bubbled in your chest, about to explode. Like in that moment. You were grinding your teeth without even realizing it.

“That one in the police uniform is hot.” Leah remarked, nodding toward the screen.

You turned to look at her, studying her face for a moment. You wanted to shout that he was your boyfriend, and you felt a pang of jealousy knowing that so many people were eyeing him, and he had to seem available to them. Even though it was all just an illusion, it was something he had to do. You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to throw caution to the wind and spill the entire truth to your best friend.

An idol’s personal life wasn’t something the company liked to make public, especially not a relationship with an ordinary person, a mere college student. You and Jungkook had to hide. He and the other members had to be seen as desirable. That was the image the industry demanded. Personal relationships only brought scandals, and you knew that he had signed a contract ensuring he wouldn’t make anything public.

BigHit knew about you, though. You had even visited the company twice before, and the members had always been incredibly kind to you. But seeing Jungkook there, on the screen, singing, dancing, while surrounded by college friends who had no clue about your relationship was surreal.

This was the person you loved. The person you had promised a future with. But on that screen, he looked like just another untouchable celebrity.

Phone calls had become rare. Plans to meet always got postponed because of the band’s schedule. You barely even remembered what it felt like to be alone with him.

The sudden weight of reality hit you. You needed to get out of there. Abandoning your soju bottle on a random table, you rushed to the bathroom, not caring about Leah’s confusion when she called your name and tried to follow you. You locked the door behind you. Leaning over the sink, you stared at your reflection, your eyes red, cheeks flushed, and tears threatening to spill over. Your chest ached. And deep down, you knew what your mind was screaming at you: this wasn’t going to last much longer.

You sobbed into your hands, the sound of Dope muffled by the bathroom walls. It felt as if there were two Jungkooks: BTS’s Jungkook and your Jungkook and they existed in completely different universes. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t belong in his universe anymore.

You lied to your college friends every day, pretending you didn’t have a boyfriend. And, most of the time, it really didn’t feel like you did. His absence was overwhelming. You had even heard rumors once, people speculating that you were into girls because, despite being theoretically single, you rejected every guy who approached you. You handled it the best you could, but it was becoming unbearable. With trembling fingers and blurry vision, you pulled out your phone. You dialed Jungkook’s number. Once. Twice. No answer.

So you typed: jungkook, are we fooling ourselves? i feel like im holding onto something that’s slipping through my fingers. and i don’t know if you even have the time to catch it anymore.

He never responded. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how.

Busan, 2016

The last time you saw Jungkook was at the end of summer break. He was at the train station during one of his rare visits home. BTS was getting more well-known, but at that hour, the station was relatively quiet. A few staff members from his company were with him, he was rarely alone now, as they had grown far bigger than anyone had imagined.

As soon as he appeared, you made sure he saw you before turning and walking toward the parking lot. You had arranged to pick him up there. You knew he would dismiss his staff, who would stay nearby to film some content for, who knows what. They recorded everything about the boys' lives. Not at that exact moment, but later, at some point. You rolled your eyes, exhausted by it all.

The car doors were already unlocked. His staff placed his luggage in the trunk and quickly said their goodbyes before Jungkook slid into the passenger seat. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. His hair was a shade of honey. Beautiful. Familiar. He smelled amazing. But he didn’t kiss you when he got in. And you didn’t acknowledge it. You were hurt and you wanted to cry.

“You look different,” you said as you started the car.

“So do you.”

The drive to his house wasn’t filled with arguments, but it was heavy, filled with silent tears, raw pain, and regret. Regret, but also understanding. You had both done your best, you both knew this was coming. And you both knew this was the end.

There was no way to fix it. No way for your lives, your universes, to align right now. You cried together, and when you finally arrived at his house, a farewell kiss was exchanged. Salty from tears. Your tongues barely brushed, just a soft, lingering touch, intense, but at the same time, neither of you wanted to pull away. You still loved each other. That was obvious. But there was nothing left to do to save this love.

“I’m proud of you, Jungkookie.” That was the last thing you said before he turned his back and walked toward his house.

He never looked back.

Busan, 2025

The night shift had been brutal. There was an unspoken rule in the medical field: never, under any circumstances, say that a shift is "quiet." It was a curse, an invitation for chao. And that’s exactly what had happened last night. At least now, you had something to look forward to for next month: your first real break since starting this job. One and a half month of vacation. Time to breathe, rest, maybe even figure out what you wanted outside of work.

You were finally about to finish your orthopedic residency and, for the first time in a while, you'd be free for a bit. In medicine, real breaks were rare, but luckily, the hospital you worked at had recently started experimenting with a new mental health initiative for doctors, nurses, and other healthcare workers. After an intense year marked by record-high burnout rates and an average of 80-hour workweeks, the issue had sparked widespread criticism in the media and among healthcare professionals. The pressure led to protests demanding change, ultimately pushing for a new protocol focused on ensuring better rest, increased job satisfaction, and, most importantly, fewer medical errors and higher quality care for both patients and staff.

But first, you were stuck in traffic. You tapped your fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, stealing a glance at the clock. 8h35 a.m. The roads should’ve been clearing up by now, but instead, the city was at a standstill. Min Hyejin, your closest friend since university and now a fellow nurse, sat beside you, scrolling through her phone. In the backseat, Dr. Choi Seojun, a new orthopedic specialist at the hospital, stared out the window, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

"What the hell is going on?" Seojun muttered as he squinted at the street ahead. A dense crowd had gathered along the sidewalks, holding signs, flowers, and balloons.

“No idea,” you sighed as you drummed your fingers harder. “Traffic wasn’t supposed to be this bad.”

Hyejin frowned, then let out a small breath as she kept reading her phone.

“Looks like there’s some celebrity in town,” she said absentmindedly.

“A celebrity?” Seojun let out a dry chuckle. “Who?”

“Not sure.” She kept scrolling.

The cars inched forward, only for the one ahead of you to slam its brakes. You barely had time to react before slamming your palm against the horn.

“Idiot!” you yelled, leaning slightly out of the window, the warm June air tousling your hair. You forced yourself to take a breath, staring at the summer skyline, trying not to let exhaustion and impatience get the best of you. Twelve-hour shifts were already draining enough. Getting stuck in a never-ending traffic jam right after? Unbearable.

Hyejin suddenly sat up straighter, eyes widening.

“Oh,” she murmured, then cleared her throat. “Apparently, the BTS members just got discharged from the military. Some of them are back in Busan, and fans are out here welcoming them.”

Your stomach dropped. The air in your lungs seemed to vanish in an instant, your fingers tightening around the steering wheel. No. It couldn’t be.

Of course, after almost a decade, you hadn’t heard from Jungkook personally. You only knew him the way the rest of the world did, through headlines, music videos, and the occasional airport sighting captured by paparazzi. He had become untouchable, larger than life. You had spent years learning how to ignore the constant reminders of him, how to keep your head down when his face appeared on billboards, how to pretend you didn’t hear his voice in passing when a song played somewhere. You had known about his enlistment, of course. It was impossible not to. But this was too much.

He was here. Somewhere in this city. And suddenly, the space around you felt suffocating.

Dr. Choi stretched his neck, trying to get a better view.

“Wait are they actually here? Like, up ahead?”

 “No, it’s just the fans.” Hyejin laughed, shaking her head.

Just the fans. You exhaled slowly, forcing your hands to relax. He wasn’t here, not right now, at least. But for the first time in years, Jungkook was close enough to feel real again. And that thought terrified you more than anything else.

 “I remember a few years ago they had a concert here, and my niece almost killed me to go with her,” Seojun says, laughing. “She went with her friends.”

“I remember,” Hyejin says, smiling as she looks at Seojun. “They’re good,” she adds, and a silence settles in the car. You weren’t in Busan when the concert happened, but you overheard your mom and dad talking about it being a huge event. “Jimin’s from here, his dad has a café that’s really famous,” she shrugs. “Jungkook’s from here too, right?”

Hearing his name makes you shudder, but without thinking too much, you say quietly, “Yes.”

“Hey, you used to like BTS back in college, didn’t you? I remember you playing their songs while we studied,” Hyejin turns to you, and you swallow hard.

Hyejin was your roommate in your first year of college, then she switched dorms, and you became friends with Leah, another girl you didn’t have contact with anymore. The two of them were your closest friends, and still, neither of them ever knew about you and Jungkook.

You avoid looking at her, but you don’t need to respond, and Seojun’s laughter echoes in the car.

“So, you...” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“No, it’s not like that,” you sigh, now more impatient than just a moment ago.

“Oh, so you weren’t a fan?” Dr. Choi laughed, teasing you a bit. You glanced at him through the rearview mirror but decided to just shake your head. He didn’t notice, too focused on looking out the window.

“There are so many people here just to honor them, and they’re not even here,” he said, staring at the crowd.

“BTS is a global phenomenon, and their fans are everywhere,” Hyejin said, smiling. The words caught you off guard. You had understood years ago that your Jungkook probably didn’t even exist anymore. How could he? With all that fame and money, the Jungkook you once knew was likely just a part of your memory now.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to be that famous, to have people throwing themselves at your feet, loving you from a distance... it must be exhausting,” Seojun said, thoughtfully.

“Maybe,” you murmured, driving the car a little further, “But it’s the price of success. And I think they knew exactly what they were getting into.” You said it bitterly.

“You’re right,” Hyejin spoke this time, looking at you and nodding. “But still, it must be hard. Not having a life like we do, no privacy, no normal moments.”

You didn’t say anything. Jungkook’s life was in another universe, so far away from yours, and no matter how much you wanted to hold onto him, you couldn’t. You never could.

The traffic was slowly clearing up, the cars moving forward little by little. As soon as you left the crowded area full of fans, the road flowed normally again, making you let out a sigh of relief. You were exhausted from that atmosphere, from the mere reminder of your ex, despite how easily you had learned to ignore his orbit whenever it crossed your path.

But for the first time in years, you and Jungkook were in the same city at the same time, and that was terrifying. Still, if you were being honest, there was zero chance of running into him on the street, because you weren’t naive, and he was ridiculously famous. What were the odds that you would just happen to see him at a restaurant you frequented?

Seojun and Hyejin’s conversation blurred into background noise during the entire drive to your friend’s house, where she was the first to be dropped off after over fifty minutes of traffic. Without hesitation, Seojun moved to the passenger seat. He talked about work, and you nodded absentmindedly, too drained to focus on his words, or anything else.

“You know,” he started, looking at you. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, raising your eyebrows to signal for him to continue. “I’d really like to know if you’d want to go on another date with me.”

Your fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

The two of you had gone on a date the previous weekend. Seojun was the head orthopedic doctor, and you were currently doing your residency in the field after giving up your last specialization in emergency medicine. The pressure had been too overwhelming, triggering panic attacks whenever you thought about working in such high-stress conditions. Initially, you thought you would adjust, but you never did, so you switched to your second choice, or perhaps what you had truly wanted all along: orthopedics.

The date had been nice, nothing extraordinary. No kiss, no deeper intentions on his part, which had honestly left you a little disappointed. Dr. Choi was attractive, tall, muscular, intelligent, and charismatic. You had wanted a kiss, but it never happened. After a week of discreet flirting at work, his question wasn’t entirely surprising.

“Of course,” you answered with a small smile, glancing at him briefly before focusing on the road again.

“Great,” he grinned, dimples deepening on his cheeks. “There’s a restaurant near my place I want to take you to. I just found out about it recently.”

You smiled and nodded. He told you the name of the place, you had been there before, given that you lived in the same neighborhood, but you pretended not to know. You wanted to make him feel good.

When you stopped in front of his building, Seojun thanked you for the ride and stepped out of the car. You watched him walk away, but then, without warning, without any conscious effort, your mind wandered to the fact that Jungkook was in town. You rolled your eyes at your own thoughts. Why does this even matter? It didn’t. Not one bit.

Besides, it had been nine years since you last saw each other. With the way the media worked, there was even a possibility that Jungkook was married by now. You doubted it, though. If his schedule had been chaotic back when BTS was just rising to fame, it was probably almost ten times worse now. Shaking your head, as if that would rid you of these thoughts, you focused on getting home. You desperately needed rest.

CH: 2 – Here

favsjjk97 - 2025

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @guwol

[alloftheimagines]

abby anderson | positive, part ii

masterlist | part i

words: 2.7k warnings: pregnant!reader, pining, hurt/comfort, contractions, references to blood, death, fluff for once!!!!! but also then angst sorry synopsis: abby knows you shouldn't be on patrol at seventh months pregnant, but you refuse to sit this one out. a storm isn't the only thing that hits when the two of you seek shelter in the bookstore – and with contractions beginning, maybe it's time to admit that it isn't only friendship between you.

credit to @allmyfavesarementallyill for the bump holding idea!

tags: @hakandnsjoqmsn

The mirror’s reflection gives you pause today. You can’t remember when you got this big, only that your bump popped all at once a month or so ago and now it never seems to stop growing. It’s a good thing. A great thing. A strange thing, to feel the little guy moving, all elbows and feet, so you can’t help but want your old body back. Sharing it is exhausting. 

Abby appears in the doorway to your bedroom, faltering for a moment and then approaching you. You lock eyes in the mirror, wondering what she thinks when she looks at you now. She promised you a lot. More than she should have. You keep waiting for her to realise that this is real, that you’re having a baby, and dart the other way. The father sure as hell did. 

But she hasn’t yet, eyes softening with nothing but fondness. “You okay?” 

It’s the first, and last, thing she asks everyday. You nod, running a hand over your bump. “Other than nauseous, crampy, exhausted, sore, and struggling to breathe. Oh, and I look like shit.”

“You look beautiful.” Her arms slip around your waist, drawing light circles around your belly button. “You always do, but especially now.”

Your heart flutters. You and Abby have never discussed what this is. Why, over the months since discovering your pregnancy, she’s started sleeping in your bed, keeping the apartment clean where she never used to, even finding you a fucking crib for when the baby comes. She’s your best friend, sure, but sometimes…

Sometimes, you wish it was something else. You wouldn’t act on it. You’re a single mom-to-be, and she’s Abby, and if you ever lost her, it would devastate you. But if, god forbid, you did, you wouldn't want it to hold the extra heartbreak that would come if you were in a relationship. And you certainly wouldn’t want her to feel any more obligated to take care of you both than she already does. 

“The maternity pants fit okay?” she asks. 

You bow your head to admire the new elastic band sewn over your cargos. She stayed up all night, pricking her fingers and cussing out the needle, to make sure your old clothes fit over your bump. “Perfect. For now. I keep getting bigger.”

She smirks. “I think that’s sorta how it works, sweetheart.”

“It’s getting heavy,” you admit, pressing your spine just a little firmer into Abby’s chest. 

“Here.” She gently lifts your bump, and you sigh out at the relief it grants you. You forgot how it feels to not have a giant weight on your hips and lower back. Without meaning to, you rest the back of your head against Abby’s shoulder, humming. With your eyes fluttering shut, you don’t see her watching the pleasure it brings. Don’t see the satisfaction crossing her features because at least she gets to help you this much, even if the rest is up to you. Don’t see the adoration, because she loves you like this. You're becoming, day by day, a softer, more vulnerable version of yourself as you prepare for parenthood, and there is nothing but beautiful strength in that. Maybe a bit of magic, too, because she is watching you create a human you're both going to adore.

“Feels so good,” you admit. 

“Yeah? How about you go back to bed? Should get as much rest as you can.”

"We have patrol in…” You check your wristwatch and curse. “Now.”

Abby frowns. “You signed up again?”

“I’ve still got two months left. I’m not going to spend them sitting on my ass, feeling sorry for myself.” You bat her hands away, skirting around her to grab your pack. Partly because you’re late, and partly because you’re in love with your best friend, and it fucking hurts sometimes — way more than the aches and pains of pregnancy.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Abby admits.

You spin defiantly on her. "I’m grateful that you’re taking care of me through all this, but please don’t start treating me like I’m weak.”

“I’m not treating you like you’re weak. I’m treating you like you’re pregnant.” She grits her teeth. “If we get caught up in something, it’s not just you we have to think about.”

“I can take care of myself. Of us both.” You shuck on your backpack. Ignore the twinge in your lower back. You’ve never sat out of patrols, and you’re not about to start now. You’re looking forward to being a mother, yes, but you don’t intend to slow down until you have to.

Abby says your name, a chastising grunt. 

You glower, and it’s enough to make her stand down. Begrudgingly.

“As long as I can still stand and pull a trigger, I’m good to go.” To prove it, you grab your gun from the bedside table and load the bullets. Abby bristles with each click. 

“So fucking stubborn,” she mutters, but there’s nothing but love there. She grabs your bump, kneels to say: “Did you hear that, Squirt? Your mom’s stubborn as hell.”

You purse your lips, trapping a laugh. It’s adorable when Abby talks to the baby. Makes you think of a future where she gets to hold them, love them, probably help them break your rules and teach them a shit ton of pranks. 

“You two done talking shit about me?” you quip.

“Nope.” Abby continues, “But it’s okay, ‘cos she’s strong as hell, too. Just don’t give her any problems today, ‘kay?” And then to you: “Okay, now we’re done.”

“Great. Thanks.”

She chuckles, grabbing your coat before you can forget it. Taking care of you, because it’s all she ever wants to do.

***

She shouldn’t have let you come. The streets of Seattle have become canals in little over four hours, and all she can do is shove you into the nearest building to protect you from the relentless rain. Thunder cracks and lightning rips through the black clouds, and it’s not safe, she thinks. If the Scars find the two of you now, you’ll be at a disadvantage, clothes heavy, teeth chattering, limbs numb. 

She shouldn’t have fucking let you come.

“Fuck,” you breathe, taking your dripping hair out of your eyes. “Didn’t think it was gonna be this bad.” 

“We'll have to wait for it to pass. It’s too dangerous out there.” If you weren’t here, or at least not pregnant, she might have risked it, but not now. If this baby has taught her anything, it’s the art of caution. 

You look like you want to argue, but in the end, you’re shivering too vigorously to even try. You drop your pack, Abby barricading the doors while you look around. As far as hiding places go, this one isn’t too bad: an old bookstore.  It'll keep you entertained, at least.

“Sit down,” Abby orders, nodding to the armchair by one of the collapsed shelves. 

“You sit down,” you retort, and she almost bares her teeth. Usually, your refusal to let her care for you is cute, but you’re both drenched and hungry, and you’re growing a whole fucking human — one who she intends to love as ferociously as she does you, by the way — inside you, so why can’t you just listen?

Her muscles strain as she shoves tables, chairs, bookcases, up against the door, going through way more effort than she usually would to make sure that nothing is getting in.

You huff, peeling off your coat and draping it over the bannister of a rickety staircase. “Gonna go make sure we’re clear in here,” you say. 

“Like hell you are,” Abby growls out. “Not on your own.”

“Abby,” you snap. And then pause, face scrunching with something that looks too much like pain. 

Abby’s by your side in seconds, panic rattling through her. “What? What is it?”

You turn away from her. It breaks something in her. “Nothing. Just one of those Braxton Hicks thingies.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

But she isn’t, because you do the unthinkable. You sit down. She gulps, reaching in her pack for water and snacks she packed in a hurry: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, because you’ve been craving them like a mad woman for weeks. She damn near searched every building in the city to find the crunchy version when the smooth just wasn’t cutting it. 

She kneels, fingers caressing the damp fabric over your belly. “Hey, Squirt. Thought I told you not to give her any problems,” she chides.

You half laugh, half whine, and Abby’s thumb smooths over the wrinkle of your brow as though it might chase away the pain. “We need to get you warm.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat exasperatedly. “Go check the damn building.”

Abby rolls her eyes, standing up. “Fine. Drink your water.”

“Fine,” you mimic, and then you’re both smirking, because you know this anger comes from only love, and you know that since losing her dad, she feels the need to clutch onto you with both hands. 

You’ll always let her, even when it makes her a pain in the ass. 

Abby checks the building thoroughly if only to stop herself from hovering and pissing you off more. She returns fifteen minutes later with a pile of children’s books in her hands. The Hungry Caterpillar, The Gruffalo, books she remembers Jerry reading to her as a kid. 

She’s excited to show you, until she finds you hunched over yourself, breathing heavily while leaning on a shelf for support. 

Not just Braxton Hicks.

“Baby…” The endearment slips out as she drops the books and kneels in front of you again. “Hey. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Getting worse,” you grind out, pale in the darkness. “They don’t feel like fake contractions this time.”

“Okay.” She allows herself just a moment to suck in a breath, find her composure, and then she’s brushing hair from your cheek, steady as a rock because it’s what you need, even if there’s a tempest crashing in her stomach. “It’s okay. Didn’t Nora say this could happen? Contractions can start and stop for a while before labour becomes active.”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I’m scared, Abby. It’s too early.”

“You don’t need to be scared. I’m right here.” She cups your jaw. “Let’s give them another ten minutes, see if they settle, yeah?”

You nod, lower lip wobbling. “You were right. You were fucking right.”

“Always am.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

She guides you over to the armchair again, helping you sit. Your gaze snags on something behind her. “What are those?”

“Hm?” Abby barely registers your question, too focused on you, your pain, the fact the baby might be coming and you’re stranded in a flood, at least ten blocks from the nearest WLF base. 

“The books.”

“Oh." She shrugs. "Got them for Squirt.”

You soften all at once, tears glistening in your eyes as, gently, you comb the errant strands of Abby’s hair off her face. She stiffens in surprise at first. Usually, she’s the one initiating contact. But then she realises how good it feels, how right, and she leans into your touch as fire licks over her cheek. 

“I love you,” you whisper, “d’you know that?”

She can hear her heart thud in her ears, louder than the thunder and the rain. And maybe she didn’t know that. Maybe she has thought, at least since her dad died, that she doesn’t really deserve it. She’s killed. She’s paused seeking justice to take care of you, leaving Jerry’s murderer out there, living. She’s done things for Isaac that have left her bloody and unrecognisable. 

And she was so angry. She still is, sometimes, but it’s easier to forget when she looks at you.

A few weeks back, she got a lead on Joel. Wyoming. She went home intending to tell you that she would set off the next day, but the baby kicked at the sound of her voice and you were laughing, and she couldn’t. She has put aside vengeance for the sake of this strange, small family the two of you are curating from stupid jokes and gentle touch and rotting nursery furniture she gathers on runs. 

She’s never done it to hear those words. To think differently of herself. She does it because you are her constant, and because she wouldn’t have fought her way through the trenches of her grief without you. 

Because she loves you, too, and the life you’re creating. 

Her cheek twists so she can kiss your clammy palm. She wants more of you. Hopes that maybe it can exist one day, when you aren’t going through so many changes and the city isn’t fractured by war. But then she thinks of all the bodies she sees on a daily basis, and wonders: why not now? What if she doesn’t survive long enough for that day to come?

“I’m in love with you,” she admits. “And now is an awful time to say it, but really, there’s never a right time, so… before Squirt comes along — not today, y'here? — and before everything changes, I need you to know it, okay? I’m in love with you. I think maybe we could work. I mean, we already are working, right? We live together, and we sleep in the same bed most nights, and I love this baby. I want this baby.”

Your mouth parts in shock, your hand falling from her cheek, and she has ruined everything. She has tried to make this baby about her.

She pushes out of her squat, wishing she could take it all back when the thick silence suffocates. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Abby—”

“Ignore it, okay? This, what we have right here, is enough. More than enough. I’m gonna go see if I can get through to base.” 

“Abs, wait. I'm—” You grapple to stand up, only to crease as another wave of pain wracks through you. "Oh, god!”

Abby darts to you again, hands hovering because she doesn’t know what to do. She can bandage wounds and heal your broken heart and fight like hell to keep you alive, but she can’t stop whatever this is. 

Your arms loop around her neck, tight, like you’re afraid she might disappear, her braid fisted in your hands.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“No. No, I think the baby’s coming.” Tears roll down your cheeks. “I can’t do this now. Please, not now.”

“Listen to me,” she begs, fingers curling at the nape of your neck. “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you, you hear me?”

“What if something’s wrong?” you fret through chattering teeth. "What if this means the baby's not okay—"

“Nothing’s wrong. The baby's perfect.” Abby plants her hands on your bump, as though a gentle nudge might convince the baby to stop. Stay there a little while longer. She feels when your stomach tightens with another contraction, a guttural keen falling from you as you use her for support. 

Her heart leaps into her throat, worse when she sees the damp across your cargos. This soaked, she has no idea if your waters have broken, but while her pants have dried slightly, yours haven’t.

“I need to radio base,” she decides, which will be hard considering there was no fucking signal last time she tried upstairs. 

The contraction must ease, because your grip on her loosens. “This isn’t happening,” you’re murmuring over and over. “This can’t be happening.”

“You gotta sit back down for me. You wanna lay on the floor?”

“No. No, I can’t.” You’re panicking, and so is she, but only one of you is allowed to show it, so she bites her cheek and keeps you upright as she pulls out her walkie. As before, the signal crackles. She tries to tune in, announcing herself on every station, but there’s nothing.

“Fucking storm,” she hisses. 

“Abby.” You’re saying her name again and again like it’s all you can grasp, forehead resting against her shoulder.

“I’m here,” she’s saying back. 

“Abby, I’m in love with you, too.” A mangled sob falls from you as you fight to look at her like it’s something important. Like she’s important, even in the midst of this. “We’re yours, okay? So if something happens, if I don’t make it, now or ever, you’re still a mother. Squirt's still yours.”

It's everything she's wanted to hear, only it's tainted by the idea of losing you. Her eyes shutter as she states, “No.”

“No? But you just said—”

“If you’re going to tell me that, it’s not going to be because you think you’re going to give birth here and die. I’m getting you to fucking base. Get your shit. You can tell me again when we’re home and safe.” Because she will get you home, and nothing will stop her. Not the storm, not contractions, not the fucking baby. 

She puts the books in her bag, because she intends to read them to you both tonight, regardless of whether the baby is here or still growing inside you. And then she helps you with your coat, takes your pack on her shoulders over her own, and she pushes away the barricaded furniture with a new, fierce determination. 

She just got a family. She doesn’t intend to lose it.

[sumthinganarchy]

I’m a different anon, and I ADORE your self-aware avatar stuff. I remember in your first post you said something about Roblox thinking the Builderman account was hacked? Imagine the reader hearing this and realizing they are not, in fact, being followed by David Butttootski, but some other guy entirely. (Of course they don’t know it’s just the account gained sapience, so they think he’s just someone who’s REALLY good at hacking.) Also, Builderman “awakening” the other accounts would freak the hell out of Roblox. They think they’re experiencing one of the worst security breaches they’ve ever faced, probably worse then 2012. They’re losing their minds trying to find out who hacked all these admin accounts, unaware they’ve “hacked” themselves.

Also, I’ve been saying “Roblox” as a way to refer to the staff, but isn’t there an actual account for “Roblox”? Imagine if that account gained sapience. The thing I recognize that account for is the clothing items (because I spend too much time on that catalog game), so maybe they start making outfits just for you. Wish that hair didn’t have bangs so long? Well Roblox just released an exact copy of it, with shorter bangs! Want to do a cosplay? Well, apparently Roblox has decided to release a bunch of stuff that can be used for just that! They’re also dragging you to any game made by the account, as well as any front-page game with any customization elements so they can learn more about what you like. They especially yonk you when you need a break from Telamon (see, they’re helping get away from someone who’s bothering you! And they just want to hang out with you, and they’re making all these cool thing for you! So please just stay)

ideas so goated that we had to take days off lol!!

short fics!! plus hcs, and talking!!!

---

short fic, kinda part 2 lol

scrolling twitter was a pain. the only reason were even here is to catch up with "the news" i.e to see if cookie run has any new merch coming out and if roblox will forfeit the digging of there own grave. -wow, speaking of roblox, new post!

"WHAT" shock? frustration? it all pours out with that simple word. it was in fact NOT roblox saying sorry for the situation, but something entirely different.

the builderman account had apparently been hacked for some time now.

...

"huh" soo, what to do with this new information? at least we can play roblox again, with everything that happened the last time we played we just haven't wanted to go back on cuz HE'LL be there. but know that its actually NOT david FUCKING basqukiy acting like a clingy ex girlfriend, makes me feel like i can really take it on. it dose still worry us though, that means that some random hacker has been following us in to different games. still bad, but not as bad.

looking at the comments of this post almost everyone is congregating the hacker, and singing praises. one comment stands out to me;

guy on dude: man i was playing work at a pizza place the other night, and builderman came in to the lobby, sent a troll to hell, and then was really clingy to some rando. makes a little more sense now

hm, must have been someone we were playing with that night, thank god, that whole night feel so much more real. we look down to the comment underneath this one;

poo my guy: wouldn't be surprised if those two are dating

...

"NO" wow that pissed me off more than it should have.

finally getting the courage to hope back on roblox, and probably end up seeing this guy. we are greeted with almost the same page as the night before, with the indication that there is a friend request still waiting for us. heading to the page, you don't say, or really feel anything. sorta at least. your heads clouded, both not wanting to go threw what you are about to do, this is still weird, what if you get hacked, what if roblox sees this and bans your account, why haven't roblox banned this account. but also, this IS fine, its not actually him, he haven't done anything Malicious, why not.

so you do. you hit accept for builderman's friend request. there's nothing dramatic about it, your device doesn't immediately get bricked. you don't message builderman, no confrontations, no hellos. just silence. thought he dose impiety appear 'online'.

--

now back to just talking lololollolo

builderman getting the other admen accounts to become sentient (tho some of them did that them self's, looking at you telamon-), roblox is essentially on fire (not like they arent already), but all of the staff are running around trying to fix the "issue", meanwhile all of the admen averters are ogaling at the reader and vying for attention. meanwhile meanwhile, the community is cheering on the "hackers", especially since no one is getting hacked be them and there "safe" to be around.

roblox has tried to revoke, ban, and get these accounts back from said "hackers", but it just never seems to effect them. almost carton roblox would implode in on its self, like how 0o7n7 some how came back, and the fact that the "hackers" are making real reports on inappropriate content on the platform. roblox is carton its one of them, no one knows who tho (because its not one of them).

--

honestly i never thought that someone would want us to do anything with "roblox" (the avatar/ account), guy is never really in anything witch makes sense, in our personal opinion roblox (again the character lol) doesn't like players that much, i like to imagen that builderman has SOME copration junk in him, but roblox is really where all the corporate stuff comes from.

but guess we have SO much rizz to these avatars that even roblox falls. we like the idea of using the catalog with self aware/ yandere stuff, tho were a little unsure how to use it, other than how you did. roblox would probably make really REALY specific items, that only you'd want. probably would make expensive items that you want WAY cheaper than what they were before.

also love roblox also plopping you into games, whether to get to know you better, or to get you away from telamon, if roblox keeps this up, telamon might have a rival to fight.

[threetone3]

What We Don’t Say Chapter 2: Kang Haerin from Arae

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Kang Haerin x Male OC

Tags: fluff, angst, slowburn, romcom, kpop idol x male oc

Words: 3.1k

Chapter 2

“You’re a celebrity, huh?”

In which Jay gets to know the cat girl who stares at him in a good way… according to him, at least. 

Lee Hyunjae

Sometimes I wonder if I did something in my past life to offend the bald-headed demon in our school. 

Relax, I’m just joking… kind of. 

Who am I referring to? Take a wild guess. Not a day goes by that I don’t cross paths with him, and without fail, he always has something to say.

“Your hair’s getting too long, Lee Hyunjae. Cut it by tomorrow.” 

“Where’s your tie, Hyunjae? It’s part of your school uniform, put it back on now.” 

“How many times is that now? This is the third consecutive week where you’ve been late every single day.” 

Okay, maybe some of those comments were warranted. I’m not exactly winning “Model Student of the Year.” But even when he’s nagging me about my earrings or the sweatpants I sneak into uniform rotation (they’re just so much more comfortable), I know Mr. Choi’s just doing his job. A little too enthusiastically, maybe — but it’s not like he actually hates me. In fact, if I’m being honest, I think he might be one of the only adults in this school who actually gives a shit. Case in point — just a few seconds ago: “A minute late to school, as usual,” he sighed, already eyeing my outfit.

He went straight for the ear check. “Earrings. Again. That’s your fifth strike this week, and it’s only Wednesday. You trying to break your own record, Lee Hyunjae?” Classic Mr. Choi. Equal parts exasperation and sarcasm. 

A few other latecomers around us snickered under their breath. I rolled my eyes instinctively and brushed them off — people love to talk when they don’t know anything. I’ve learned to let it slide. Words don’t sting as much when you’re used to hearing worse at home. 

As I scanned the school grounds, my eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar girl pointing in my direction where I was standing. My close friend and the resident ray of sunshine in the school, Danielle Marsh, was with a not-so-familiar girl next to her. I waved at Danielle before she finally noticed me. 

“Third time this week?” she called. Wow, so I really am only known in this school for my demerit record, huh. 

“Nope, fourth. You forgot Monday—I got caught riding Bull to school,” I responded, referring to the motorcycle I bought with the money my mom left me, because I loved the feeling of riding into the wild with no destination in mind. Well, I worked a part-time job on weekends, so the purchase was worthwhile anyway. 

I noticed the other girl staring at me. I couldn’t really tell from a distance, but it almost looked like she was meticulous with her blinking, in a slow, perceptive, calculating manner, almost like a…cat? It seemed like a ridiculous comparison, but the more I took notice of her features, the more I could see the similarities. 

I saw her turn around and exchange a few words with Danielle, who responded with her signature hearty laugh. Looks like they were hitting it off. 

“Quit staring and get moving to class, Hyunjae. You’re already 5 minutes late.” I looked around, realising that all the other latecomers had already left for period 1. 

As I grumbled and started walking towards my homeroom, a hand grabbed my arm, and I turned to face a worried-looking Mr Choi, an expression I’d already gotten used to from him. 

“Wait, Jay.” 

Oh shit, even his tone was more concerned than usual. 

“If you’re still having problems at home, please reach out. You and I both know what he’s like when he drinks.”

I snorted. “When isn’t he? These days, I think he’s spared more glances at bottles of soju than Hyein, and she’s literally always at home.” 

Mr. Choi sighed again, more defeated than ever. “God knows what happened after graduation… That accident must’ve changed him. Anyway, keep your chin up and look after your sister. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted.”

With one final nod, he turned and walked back toward the front office. I stood there for a second longer, watching him go. 

Mr. Choi and my parents went way back. They all went to the same college, and from what I heard, my mom used to copy his notes in every class. It’s funny, really — he’s probably been scolding me since before I was even born. 

As I made my way towards my homeroom, I noticed Danielle taking the cat girl to the field. ‘Ah, she must be the new transfer,’ I thought to myself as I recalled Mrs Baek mentioning one. The way she stared at me just now intrigued me. Not to toot my own horn, but a lot of people in this school stare at me. Hoobaes staring in admiration, guys that stare tentatively in wary, or teachers with their judgmental, watchful eyes that constantly kept me on my tiptoes. I hated it. Movies always describe the popular kid as someone who basks in the attention, relishing in the glory, but I just didn’t get it. 

To me, attention came with strings. Expectations. Labels. The way they stared as if they weren’t looking at me, but at a version of myself that I didn’t want to be. The constant whispering, the assumptions—they were just exhausting. 

So when the cat girl looked at me like that, like she was trying to figure something out, I didn’t quite know how to feel. There wasn’t fear or admiration in her eyes. It was more like curiosity. Calm, steady curiosity, like she was watching a puzzle solve itself.

And most of all, it didn’t make me uncomfortable—quite the opposite.

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

The first thing I heard when I slid open the door and stepped into the classroom was yet another heavy sigh. 

“Lee Hyunjae, if you miss any more lessons, not even the student council president will be able to help you with your grades. Minji-ssi has many other pressing matters to attend to. You might as well kiss your graduation certificate goodbye at that point.” 

Mrs. Baek didn’t even look up from the attendance sheet. She just pointed to my empty seat at the back and scribbled something down — probably another late mark. I gave her a lazy salute, which earned a glare from Minji, seated at the front of the class, who was already diligently colour-coding her notes. 

Of course she was.

Minji’s always been the “get-things-done” type. If I were a storm, she’d be the emergency drill plan taped to the wall: efficient, serious, a little too sharp around the edges. We’ve known each other since middle school; in fact, we even used to be neighbours. 

We used to know everything about each other, but these days, we barely even talk. She’s busy, I know, what with all the student president business or whatever. Not to mention, she has a crazy mom who starts going batshit crazy whenever she places anything below 1st place on the termly exams. 

But I miss how close we used to be.

I still feel responsible for her, a promise I made to her dad when she moved next door. God, I miss the moments I had with her family as well. Spending time at hers allowed me to forget about my actual one back home. 

Of course, she does have Hanni now, her girlfriend of 2 years. They’re great and all, and I don’t want to impose, but I do feel like if I were to start drifting away from Minji even more, I at least want a bit more closure. 

“Don’t let Jay’s tardiness distract you from your grades, class. Back to page 47. There’s gonna be a pop quiz after we finish this topic as well.” Mrs. Baek announced to the class, eliciting groans and moans that grumbled across the classroom. 

I let my chin fall into my palm and stared blankly at the board. Five minutes into the lesson and I was already zoning out. Studying just wasn’t my thing. 

By the time Mrs. Baek flipped to the next slide, I had already made my decision.

I raised my hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?” 

She didn’t even blink. “Five minutes. If you’re gone longer than that, I’m sending Minji to drag you back.” 

Behind me, Minji raised her arm. “Sorry Mrs Baek, but I actually have a council meeting, like… now.” Mrs. Baek finally looked up and took off her glasses. “Oh, I see. Go ahead then.” Then to me, with a glare: “Lucky you, Hyunjae. But longer than five minutes and your detention will be a hundred times longer.” 

At that, I slid out of my seat, shoved my hands in my pockets, and strolled out into the hall, slightly trailing behind Minji, though she went her separate way, probably to the library where the student council held their meetings.

Slipping out of class, with or without permission, had become the daily norm for me. Most of the time, teachers don’t even realise that I’m gone after a few minutes, so I started making use of it. Sometimes I’d go to the gym and hit the bags, or go to my spot and clear my mind. Or I’d sneak downstairs and spy on my little sister, just to make sure that no creepy hoobaes were bothering her. 

You might think I’m a little weird and possessive for doing that, maybe, but I’m genuinely just concerned. Hyein’s all I have, and I just can’t risk losing her. Besides, Mom made me promise to take care of her, and that’s an oath I never intend to break.

“Jay! There you are.” I turned at the sound of Danielle’s voice and found her jogging up with the transfer girl trailing behind her. She was holding a clipboard, half her hair falling out of its ponytail.

‘Huh, that’s the third time I’ve seen them just this morning.’ I brushed that thought off as I focused on Danielle, who looked like she was panicking to the point of explosion.

“I was just about to come looking for you,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I was showing Haerin around, but I totally forgot I have to be at the student council meeting like… now. You know how Minji gets when people are late. Could you take her to the homeroom building for me? It’s the last stop, promise!” 

I looked at her incredulously, “Wait wait wait, that’s it? You’re dumping the new transfer onto me? I’m supposed to have my quiet time now.” I was half-joking, but Danielle’s exasperated look and the cat girl’s unreadable stare made me realise the joke didn’t land.

“Come on, Jay. I’m gonna be late. Help me out just once. I’ll make sure Pham doesn’t bother you with her weird Rocky Balboa impressions whenever you come over during our practice for at least a week.” Danielle was practically begging with pleading eyes. 

“Enticing offer… I’m in. You better hold up your end of the stick, though.” I responded, though really, I genuinely wanted to save Danielle from Minji’s wrath. That girl could really bite your ear off if she wanted to, no boxing reference intended. 

“No problemo, and thanks, Jay. Here, this is Haerin. Haerin, this is Jay, the guy with the earrings you asked about. Jay, try not to corrupt her too fast, please. She’s one of the good ones.” Without another word, Danielle almost glided in the direction of the library. 

“Wow, Minji really has these student council members on a leash, huh?” I glanced at the cat girl, whose name I now knew. The only response I received was a blank stare, the same one I received a while ago when I was standing with my fellow latecomers. She even started blinking slowly, in that same calm, unreadable manner. I was beginning to think it wasn’t just a coincidence.

“Uh... right,” I scratched the back of my neck. I swear I could hear the crickets chirping in the awkward silence. “Guess we better head to homeroom, then.” Still no response, not even the slightest nod. 

“Okay,” I muttered under my breath. “So you’re the quiet type. Cool cool cool, love that for me. Um, do you know which homeroom you’re in?” 

“3-1. Mrs Baek Seong Ja.” 

There it is. I finally managed to hear her voice, though the answer wasn’t what I was looking for, as I cursed under my breath. 

“Shit, you’re in the same homeroom as me.” This was bad; my five minutes were basically up already. “Well, scrap this then, I can’t take you there. Erm, let’s freestyle instead. We’ll go to my favourite spots in school, I’m sure you’ll love them.” 

This finally seemed to form a crack in Haerin’s expression, as for once, she looked just the slightest bit intrigued. 

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

“So, uh, Haerin-ssi, right?” I tried my best to make small talk as I brought her along the corridor that led to the boxing gym. I was forcing myself to change my social behaviour just to fit her vibe; I even slowed down my footsteps to make it seem like I wasn’t just dragging her along on this school tour. 

She nodded in response, then halted her steps and looked at me again. ‘There’s that weird stare… she looks like she’s expecting something from me,” I thought to myself. “Is there something you wanna ask—” 

A loud gasp interrupted me. “Holy shit, aren’t you Kang Haerin? From Arae Tuition?”

A short, chubby hoobae with a bowl cut stared at her in awe. “Oh my god, you are her! I see your posters all the time after school at Arae for math!” He fished out his phone and, rudely, snapped a picture before taking off.

I turned to look at Haerin, expecting to see a happy expression on her face for once, since someone recognised her, but instead I was met with one that seemed even colder than the one she usually wore. 

And of course, because of my amazingly timed humour, I just had to crack a joke then. 

“You’re a celebrity, huh? Sign here, please?”

Of course, it landed just as well as you probably expected. I wasn’t hoping for a reaction, but again, she just stared at me. This time though, she almost had a curious look on her face. 

“You don’t recognise me?” She finally spoke for what felt like the first or second time since I officially met her. 

“No, not really. Am I supposed to?” I didn’t know how to feel. Was she one of those uber-popular influencers on social media or something? The kid just now mentioned something about a tuition centre, though, so probably not. “Sorry, I don’t really go for hagwon. I don’t know who you are.” 

Relief thoroughly washed over her face. “No, no, it's fine. It’s better for me that you don’t, actually.” 

I don’t know why, but that sentence evoked a feeling in me. A weird kind of feeling; it was like a flicker. A subtle pulse of recognition. Not of her name, or face, or whatever Arae Tuition poster she might’ve been on, but of the feeling behind her words.

That sense of wanting to go unnoticed. To not be known for the wrong things. To walk into a room and just be, without people already deciding who you are before you even say a word.

Yeah. I knew that feeling.

So I didn’t say anything back for a moment. Just kept walking beside her in silence. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, for the first time since I met her, her steps fell in sync with mine. Still quiet, still cat-like in her movements, but a little less guarded now. Like maybe I wasn’t a threat. Like maybe I didn’t need to be shut out entirely.

“You don’t like being recognised?” I asked eventually, keeping my voice low.

She looked down at her shoes, then ahead again. “Not like that.”

“Like how then?”

She didn’t answer immediately. I almost thought she wouldn’t at all — until she said, “I want to be known, not remembered.”

I slowed down without even thinking. “…What’s the difference?”

She finally looked up at me. Not blinking slowly this time, not observing. Just… looking. “Being remembered means they’ve decided who you are. Being known means they’re still listening.”

That quieted me more than it should’ve. For a second, I forgot I was supposed to be skipping class. Forgot about Mr. Choi’s warnings, Mrs. Baek’s threats or even Minji’s glare from earlier. I just kept staring at her, this girl who didn’t smile, didn’t flinch, didn’t say much — but who somehow made more sense to me than most people did. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I get it. People stare like they’re only seeing the outer shell I built. No one sees the real me. Maybe it’s the same for you.”

Haerin looked up at me and opened her mouth to speak before pausing, like she was contemplating whether to open up or not. 

“You can tell me anything, your secret’s safe with me,” I said with a wink, before immediately cringing inwardly. 

It seemed to work, though, as Haerin finally began to speak up.

“My mom, she… She doesn’t see me for who I am. I think to her, all I am is just a machine—a robot that’s able to help her boost her brand. It’s been like that my entire life. She’s been sending me to study at cram school since I could talk, and now it’s all I can do. Regurgitate information on a piece of paper.” 

I didn’t know what to say at first. There was a heaviness in her voice — not sadness exactly, but something duller. Like it had been worn down over time, sanded smooth from too many years of being unheard. 

“And the worst thing is, it’s the same for everyone. They only know ‘Kang Haerin from Arae’.” She gave a small, humourless huff through her nose. “It is what it is, though.” 

In the heat of the moment, I blurted my inner thoughts out without thinking. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have the privilege of not knowing her. Kang Haerin from Arae, I mean. To me, you’re some weird cat girl who could probably go undefeated in a staring contest tournament. And that’s who I’m interested in learning more about.” 

For a moment, I wasn’t sure how she’d take it — but then she let out a sound. A laugh, a real one this time. It was a combination of a snort and a chuckle, small but genuine. 

And for someone like her, that was the loudest thing in the world.

Sorry bout the delay, I was kinda in a dilemma on whether I should switch perspectives throughout writing this chapter. Here it is, hope you guys enjoyed it, please leave comments, feedback, advice, constructive criticism or compliments 😉 Any questions about how the story is going to progress are welcome as well, I'd love to share my thought process when writing with you guys.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Part 12 CW: blood, past trauma and experimentation

Jason could almost go to sleep. He wouldn’t, not when he was the only Bat in the apartment, but it would be so easy to. Danny made a really good weighted blanket.

It seemed once the kid got over touching someone, he basically became a koala. Cass and Danny had spent the morning wrapped around each other on the couch. Cass was playing one of her weird clicking games and Danny, blue bear in his lap, was scrolling through articles on the tablet that Tim had brought him the other day.

Now, though, Cass was out on a snack run and Danny had slowly slumped over until he was laying across Jason. It wasn’t minded. Jason could admit he still had some trouble with touch himself, but it was easy to be there for Danny like this.

The problem was, Jason needed to get back to Crime Alley for at least a few nights. He was already past when Red Hood should have made an appearance. It he didn’t go back soon, rumors were going to start that he was dead. Again.

Jason waited for Danny to start searching for a new article to read to ask, “Are you alright with meeting someone soon?”

He didn’t expect Danny to tense like he did.

“Robin?”

“No, Dandelion,” Jason said, stroking Danny’s white hair. “N talked with Robin and he knows not to stop by like that without warning. We’ll have him over when you’re comfortable but not before.”

“Okay. Sorry. I don’t mean to…”

“None of that. He freaked you out,” Jason said. “I know he didn’t mean to, and from our guess it’s not his fault how he feels like to you, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. It’s okay to set boundaries.”

“He… doesn’t feel weird to you?”

Jason sighed. “No. I guess I don’t sense it. I didn’t know you had died until you told me.”

“Oh.” Danny’s voice was small and quiet.

“But I knew that I had died— the others know it’s too,” Jason was quick to add. “It’s alright that you died. No one will think differently of you.”

“They might. It’s… you’re different than me, I guess.”

“I don’t know, because I don’t know what happened to you, but I actually hope so. The way I came back wasn’t pleasant.” Jason had to take a breath before he continued. “I was murdered by a rogue in town called the Joker. I woke up… we’re still not sure when exactly, but somewhere about half a year later. I didn’t have any of my memories, but I still had most of my injuries.

“I was picked up by some people you might hear us refer to— the League of Assassins. They put me back together about a year after my death by tossing me in something called the Lazarus Pits. Those things come with a price though, one that I’m still paying. Coming back was… hard, in a lot of ways.”

“Oh,” Danny said. He clung a little to Jason’s shirt, like he wanted to make sure Jason was still there. It was a feeling Jason understood all too well. “I, um, don’t think I’ve ever stayed really dead for more than a minute or two. At least not like… not like you were.”

Jason rested his hand on Danny’s back, feeling him breath. Feeling him… feeling him not breathe.

“…Danny?”

Danny clung tighter to Jason’s shirt. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Are you… somewhat dead right now?”

“Yes.”

Just one word. A simple answer.

“Okay. That’s— okay. I’m glad there’s a reason that you’re not breathing,” Jason said and pressed a kiss to the top of Danny’s head as he tried to calm his own pounding heart.

“I think B.B. knows. I usually… it’s habit to breath but sometimes I forget and—”

“She’s good at noticing things.” Jason would have to talk with her. “But that goes to what I said, right? None of the others will thinking of you differently.”

“Even if…”

“Even if anything.”

Danny sat up and Jason resisted the urge to reach for him. It took him a moment longer to release Jason’s shirt. Jason sat up slowly and waited for Danny to get the words out he was obviously working on.

“Can I show you?”

“Course.” Jason braced himself for anything.

“It might be bright, close your eyes.”

The flash still shown through Jason’s eyelids.

“Oh.” Danny’s voice wavered horribly. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Danny?” Jason was reaching forward even as he opened his eyes.

It was good he did.

He had to catch Danny as he wavered dangerously. Danny’s who hair was black. Who’s eyes were blue. Who looked all the more like Bruce’s son. Who was bleeding red.

-

“Jesus and Mother Mary,” Dick cursed, resting his forehead against his wrist’s.

Cass came over and peeled the bloody gloves off for him. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” Dick wheezed.

“Badly.”

Jason barked out a laugh at that. It was unstable in a way that reminded the room of worse days.

The door banged open and they all jolted, everyone but Cass, who was better than that, and Danny who was still out cold.

“Shit, fuck, sorry,” Tim rambled. “Is he stable?”

“Yes,” Cass answered. Her voice was calm, but but Duke could see the way that she fidgeted. For anyone else it wouldn’t be called fidgeting, but the way that she untied and retied and untied the trash bag in his visions told Dick otherwise.

Cass was as worried as the rest of them.

“Signal?” Tim asked. He came into the room, tablet already pulled up to record everything.

“Hard for me to say,” Duke said with a little shrug. He wished he could say, but he was still trying to understand what he was seeing. “The guy is… he’s like no one I’ve ever seen before. But I think he’s getting stronger.”

“That’s— holy fuck.” Tim paused as he finally got a look at Danny.

“Really looks like the old man like this, doesn’t he?” Jason asked. He was trying to hide how his hands were trembling by keeping his arms crossed. Everyone in the room let him pretend.

Duke sure wouldn’t have wanted to be the one Danny collapsed on like that. It was bad enough being the third one there as he swung over from his patrol. The cuts had still been appearing on Danny’s skin, ripping him apart like he was nothing.

He didn’t look much better all bandaged up.

“I think the cuts were ones he must have sustained before changing forms before he even met us,” Duke reasoned. “They… felt old.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “So the whole time they were there just waiting to bleed?”

Jason laughed again. “Waiting for him to be alive again.”

Slowly, Dick dropped his hands and looked up at Jason. “Jay?”

Okay, so they were at the point of forgetting cape-names now. That was a great sign.

Confusingly, Jason looked to Cass, who actually fidgeted.

“He doesn’t breathe. He does, not always. His heart beats, not always. It is like he…,” she twisted her hand as if trying to grab onto the right word. “Like he relaxes and forgets.”

Well that was weird. Dick nodded to the monitor that he had helped hook up. “He’s breathing right now and the monitor says his heartbeat is hella slow, but steady.”

“This is his alive form, I think. More alive form,” Jason said with a shrug. “His other form is his more dead form. He said he’s never stayed ‘really dead’ like I was. I think ‘really’ was the important word in that. He stressed it like it was… a technically or some shit.”

“Or a loophole,” Tim said. He was watching Danny with his head tilted just slightly to the right.

It was a pose that had Duke straightening up in attention. “What do you see that I can’t?”

Tim glanced at him and then back down at Danny. “The scars don’t match.”

“Ti—Red, please just say it,” Dick pleaded, exhaustion hanging on his words.

“Sorry, I was. I mean, the scars he has now don’t exactly match the scars he had in his— what are we calling it? Dead form?”

Jason flinched.

Dick’s eyes flicked from Jason to Tim. “Let’s go with… ghost. Undead, you know?”

Tim continued on valiantly. “His scars don’t match with what he had in his ghost form. There are a few like around his neck that I think are one-to-one and a lot of them are in the same place from what I can see and might be the same? I’d have to take photos and compare. But… he has more in this living form, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, right, so that’s a thing,” Jason said. He slid down the wall he was leaning against until he was squatting. He hung his head between his knee and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck.

Duke could see Jason passing out with enough probability that he slipped out of the room to grab some sour candy for Jason and an icepack for the back of his neck. Being honest with himself, Duke could use the moment out of the room. It was a lot to deal with.

Man, someone would have to do something about the bloody couch too… Dick sighed and took the time to send a message to Babs about it as well as an update. Knowing her she had a list of all the furniture in all the safe houses and could get a slipcover ordered on same day delivery. At least he hoped so. Everyone was taking this pretty hard and they didn’t need the reminder.

Duke figured the bad reaction was pretty fair though, they had thought that Danny was getting better and now his healing was going to be set back. Dick would be guilty because he hadn’t been here, Jason going through his issues about kids and violence and death, and Cass already counted Danny as family. She was never good when family was hurt. It was even worse that Danny should have been safe, he was under their watch.

Duke set the pack of candy and ice pack down next to Jason’s foot, close enough that he should be able to feel the cold, and backed up to his corner. It was best not to touch right then. He wasn’t afraid of Jason ever hurting him purposefully, but he was also very aware for Jason it might not always be purposeful.

Cass joined him, leaning against his side, and Duke wrapped an arm around her. Tim was tapping away on his tablet, mostly muttering to himself, but Dick had gotten up to peer over his shoulder.

Jason tore open the packet of candies and popped one in his mouth.

They’d be okay.

It would take work, but they were Bats. They were stubborn.

Dukes wrist buzzed. The tracking number for slipcover flashed across his hud. It would be there by 9 pm.

They’d be okay.

-

Everything hurt. Everything ached all the way down through his skin and muscled and bones. His breath caught in his chest, ragged and frayed like his lungs were full of shattered glass.

He tried not to make a noise.

He tried to stay quiet.

They would notice him if he made a noise. He couldn’t take any more attention. He didn’t think he’d survive more attention. God, that thought was almost enough to kill him. Once he would have done anything for his parents attention and now—

There was a hand in his hair. It was gentle.

Oh, he was crying.

“…going to be okay. We have you, Dandelion, and we’re not letting them touch you ever again. The two Reds will make sure it can never happen again. Once you’re better they’ll take a little road trip.”

That was… that wasn’t… a sob broke through Danny’s lips and he didn’t stop it. He didn’t even try.

He wasn’t there.

He could make noises.

He was safe.

“Danny? Hey, are you awake.”

Danny nodded as much as he could manage.

“Hey there,” Nightwing said, voice so kind that it just made Danny cry harder. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Danny shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay, thank you for answering me Danny. How’s the pain? Um, squeeze my hand once if it’s okay, twice if it’s really bad.”

Danny squeezed it three times.

“Really, really bad, huh? Okay. Okay… we can give you some pain meds through your IV. We have you on a saline drip because you looked really bad. We didn’t want to give you any meds without your consent though. Are you alright with some pain medication? Once for yes, twice for no.”

One squeeze.

“Okay, let me go—”

Danny clung to Nightwing’s hand a tightly at he could. His breath stuttered around the glass.

“Not leaving, Dandelion. I’m going to text Red Robin, okay? He’s in the living room. Hood and B.B are out… running an errand. They’ll be back soon. I’ll text Red and he’ll bring the pain meds.”

Danny nodded. Nightwing shifted around, but didn’t let go of Danny’s hand. The breathing calmed, got easier. Danny let out a slow breath.

“Hey Danny,” a new voice said. “The medication will make you feel fuzzy and maybe disoriented. You’ll probably sleep a lot. We don’t want you to wake up panicked. Is there anything we can do to help you know you’re here with us and safe?”

“Bear,” Danny croaked. He wet his lips and tried to continue. “Smells that aren’t… Touch. Warmth.”

“Red will get your teddy bear as soon as the meds are hooked up and we’ll work on the other things. One of us will always be here with you,” Nightwing said.

Danny squeezed his hand again.

“Okay. We won’t leave you alone, Danny, we’ll keep you safe. You’ll be okay.”

Danny trusted that.

It was surprising.

He didn’t think he could trust anymore, but Danny trusted that, trusted them.

The warmth of that thought followed him back into the black.

---

AN: This all Danny's fault, not mine! He decided to reveal his form early and then... welp.....

...Stay delightful, darlings?

[taomyou]

nerds do it better - chapter 1

synopsis: You know, most people wouldn't be all that interested in getting to know the weird Digimon kid. Good thing you're not most people! or, you and Gojo meet at a Digimon TCG game night and become really, really good friends. tags: gojo satoru x reader, digimon fan!nerdjo, digimon nerd!reader, modern au, college/uni au, meet cute, fluff || wc: 5.2k series masterlist || ao3 || #nerds do it better.tao || playlist ⚠︎ use this digimon reference guide for help understanding the digimon references!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Digital Gate, Open!

You chew on your bottom lip as you look at yourself in the mirror of your car’s sun visor. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup or dress nicely, but now you’re beginning to feel self-conscious of that decision. Should you have gotten pretty for tonight? You wanted to look approachable—friendly, even—but maybe something other than your faded college orientation shirt, an old pair of basketball shorts, and your beloved pink crest of sincerity necklace would’ve been better for that.

You can feel yourself start to sweat, your left hand clammy as you grip onto the steering wheel even though the AC is still running. Your right hand is still on the gear shift, ready to put your car back in drive and leave, but you can’t bring yourself to move it.

Your eyes flicker between your reflection and your rearview mirror to see the near-empty parking lot around you, and you wonder whether or not you’ve made the right decision coming tonight. You count 6 cars, all of them parked right next to each other right at the entrance. Apart from those few, there’s absolutely no one else around.

You groan, moving both your hands to the top of your steering wheel so you can thrash your head back and forth in despair. As you move around, the small black box in your pocket falls out, and once you feel the weight gone, you stop immediately and pat around in your chair to pick it back up. You panic when you can’t immediately find it, but eventually you see that it’s caught between your seat and the door, so you quickly turn off your car’s engine and open the door so you can pick it back up.

Your legs now swung out, you sigh to yourself as you put the box back in your pocket. You awkwardly lean down to make sure that nothing had fallen out, but you don’t see that familiar plastic sheen anywhere, so you figure it’s all safe. You look around to make sure that nobody’s seen you haphazardly shuffle about in your car, but, as you’d expected, there’s no one there.

It really is so empty, much more than you’d thought it’d be. The advertising for the event looked so well-put together and planned, but there really isn’t anyone around. Who could even say all those 6 other cars were here for the same reason you were? They could just be there to shop around.

Your feet to the asphalt, you put your elbows on your knees and groan again into your hands.

Seriously, why the fuck are you even here right now?

You run through it again in your head to delay having to move, but, honestly, you’re about a minute away from just turning the engine back on and driving out of this sketchy parking lot at the edge of town.

You’ve been playing Digimon TCG since it’d launched a couple years ago. You suppose a more accurate statement is that you collected the cards back then and learned the actual rules of the game a few years later in the summer between high school and university, but no one around you really cares enough to hear the difference, so you just say you’ve been playing since launch.

Makes you sound cooler, anyway. Like, “look at me, a grown adult woman, I’m so up-to-date on a children’s game franchise that I’ve been playing their card game since it released!”

But, anyway.

You don’t have much company that’s all that interested in playing with you, at least not anymore. You fared just fine with finding other players in online servers in the past, but with your third-year university schedule, you’ve had to stop queuing for duels that pretty much always end up being hours-long, even on weekdays past midnight.

And, full offense to them, but the only people available to even play by the time you’re finished with your responsibilities for the day aren’t all that great, always lecturing you mid-game on the current game meta and pressuring you for extra rounds when they lose to your deck. And, quite frankly, you didn’t clear your deskspace and set up your overhead camera at your PC to listen to a bunch of basement dwellers whine about how your “weak” deck should’ve lost to theirs (which you call out as blatant misogyny—God forbid a girl plays with cards that’re girly, cute, and viable for comp).

You don’t know anyone personally who plays either, much to your dismay. Admittedly, you hadn’t tried very hard to look—only asking someone if they played if you saw a Agumon keychain on someone’s backpack around campus or if you’d overheard any sort of tabletop game conversation—but the answer was always a resounding no, I didn’t even know there was a card game. You’ve tried getting your friends interested, even lending them decks you’ve played in the past, and while they do put in an honest effort to pick it up, you know they’re not having as much fun as you’d want them to.

. . .

And that’s how you find yourself here now, in the near-empty Jujutsu Comic Shop parking lot on a Friday night, your Beelstarmon deck heavy in your flimsy shorts pocket, supposedly ready to play a few tables with other local players who probably don’t even exist. You saw a small flyer for a DTCG game night put up on one of the bulletin boards on your uni campus last week, went home and triple-checked your deck to make sure none of your cards had suddenly become illegal for play since the last time you got them out of their case, and made the relatively long drive to get to the comic book store.

All that only to find that the whole thing is a complete bust. Seriously, 6 cars?! And it starts in, like, 10 minutes! The flyer said free food—that’s usually enough on its own to get everyone and their mother to these things!

God, and the likelihood that everyone waiting in there is an arrogant asshole that’s going to insult your deck is high enough that you’re better off just building a new one with whatever booster packs are in the store…

There’s at least one of those fuckers waiting in there. One of the 6 cars in the lot is littered with Digimon stickers, enough of them that you’re going to assume that they’re crazier about it than you are, which is saying quite a lot considering you’ve been in love with it since you were a young girl. At the very least, there’s none of those excessively lewd stickers plastered on it—just a bunch of Rookie and Champion levels—, but you can barely even spot the license plate with how overstimulated your eyes are. You’d probably find the car cute in any other context, but, right now, you’re just annoyed at yourself for thinking that coming all the way out here was a good idea.

You lift your head to do one last scan of the parking lot, feeling dejected.

You really do want to play, but would it really be worth it to stick around if you weren’t going to have any good games? It’s starting to get late, the sun starting to dip past the horizon, and it really doesn’t look like any more people will show up. You suppose that the other cars could’ve been full with friends carpooling and there’s actually a bunch of tables being prepared as you’re loitering in the parking lot, but are there even enough people in this college town who know a Digimon card game even exists?

You’re probably part of the problem yourself, unwilling to face the other thing holding you back from just going in and making yourself present. It’s… scary to be somewhere like this, all on your own and to play something you feel strongly enough to spend the last 30 minutes driving to. And you hesitate to say it’d be embarrassing—cringe isn’t real, people should do whatever they want—, but it would be sufficiently embarrassing to walk in, see nobody there except for the organizer (who’s probably the owner of that obnoxious Digi-Car), and have to sit through some painstakingly boring games with someone who probably won’t respect your build choices.

You close your eyes and lean further into your elbows, deciding that you’ll leave in a second. As disappointed as you are, it does feel nice outside today, even with how clammy your hands still are, but that’s to be expected in the tail-end of winter. Your only opportunities to be outside like this nowadays are when you’re walking between classes and when you’re chasing after the evening bus home from campus, so it’s refreshing to actually enjoy the breeze for once instead of being upset that it ruins your hair.

You don’t realize you’ve spaced out until you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you’re shaken fully awake by it. You straighten up, hands now in fists in your lap, and you look around frantically and towards where the sound came from.

And, standing over the parking bumper in front of your car, is…

“Nanami?”

What’s he doing here?

When the two of you make eye contact, his eyes widen in mild surprise. The two of you were in a few general education courses together a year or so back, and while you wave at each other if you see him around, you don’t really interact beyond that. At most, a one-in-a-blue moon text 15 minutes before a deadline if either of you needed an emergency set of eyes to review a paper, but you don’t know anything about him beyond what you’ve seen in class.

“Oh, hello. It’s nice to see you,” he greets politely.

“Yeah, you too," you say cautiously. “What’re you doing here?”

“Ah, well,” he purses his lips, “my friend sent me out to see if anyone was out here, he put together the event.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward pause, and you nod along to the silence.

“Is that what you’re here for?” He asks just as awkwardly.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You put your hand over where your deck is. You figure that you’re comfortable enough with Nanami to tell him your reservations. “Just… don’t really see anyone else. I wouldn’t want to be the only person there, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.”

There’s another pause.

“I didn’t know you played,” you comment awkwardly. He’s just about the last person you’d expect to see at something like this, and you imagine he thinks the same about you. Apart from a small D-3 digivice keychain on your backpack that constantly gets mistaken as a Pokédex for whatever reason—it’s ridiculous, they look nothing alike—, you don’t really parade around your obsession enough for people to assume you’re a raging geek for it.

Can’t exactly afford all the anniversary merchandise anyway.

“I don’t, but my friend is,” he pauses to sigh, “to put it plainly, obsessed with it and everything else Digimon-related,” he says. “He always begs our friends and me to get into it, but none of us have the time.”

You chuckle dryly at that. “Sounds about right, I've tried with my friends too.”

“I can’t understand how he finds the time for it himself, he goes to school with us.”

You gesture vaguely towards the direction of the other parked vehicles. “Is he the one with the car?”

“Yes, don’t remind me,” he groans. “You do, though, I presume? Play the card game?”

You nod, leaning into your hand and sighing. “Yeah.”

“If you don’t want to go in, I’m not gonna snitch on you for leaving, but you are the only person that’s come to actually play.”

“Seriously?”

He nods with a slight frown. “He’s dragged all our friends here for company, but it’s just him who plays.”

“Did he plan the whole thing by himself?”

“Some of our other friends and I helped decorate and set up, but for the most part, yeah.” Nanami sighs again, but this time, it’s more sad, less exasperated. “We tried telling him not to get his hopes up, but he never listens.”

You frown, looking over at the entrance to the small shop just a few meters away.

Ok, well now you just feel bad for the guy. You… kinda feel like you have to go in now, your good conscience wouldn’t let you sleep if you didn’t step inside for a second, take a look around. The least you could do is compliment his car—glancing over at it again, it really is super cute.

Besides, this dude seems… enthusiastic to find someone to play with, so much so that he’s planned an event for it and invited all his friends to stick around and fill space. It’d upset you if you were in his position and nobody showed after all that effort spent.

And, surely, this guy can’t be that bad if Nanami’s friends with him, right? The tall blonde is polite and a good peer review partner, and even if that isn’t much to go off, it’s better than having no knowledge of who’s in there. It’s no longer a faceless middle-aged man beyond the door—now, it’s just a faceless friend of Nanami’s.

And, in all honesty, you’ve seen a few of them walking with him around campus. You’d be lying if you said they weren’t incredibly easy on the eyes, especially that tall one with white hair and glasses.

You just hope you’re not making the wrong assumption here.

You sigh again, this time less strained, and you shake your head as you get up from the driver’s seat. “No, it’s okay, I think I’ll come take a look. Wouldn’t hurt to, right? At least there’s free food.”

“Right,” Nanami nods along. “Are you sure?”

You lean back down to grab your keys before closing and locking the doors, eyebrows furrowed at his comment. “Why, you don’t think I should come in?”

“I’m glad you are, and he’s not a bad guy or anything, he’s just… really into it.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

You nervously smile up at Nanami, straightening up and following him as he leads you back to the store. He opens the door for you, and you thank him quickly as you slip under the roof and he’s now the one behind you. He tips his head towards one of the game rooms towards the back of the store, and you cautiously walk towards that direction, your eyes darting all around you. There’s a huge poster on the wall in front of you with a charmingly messy drawing  of the Wargreymon digivolution line with an arrow pointing to the entrance.

Your nerves buzz. Whether it’s because you’re afraid this guy’s going to quiz you on your knowledge or excited to finally meet someone in the real world that you could actually hold a conversation about the franchise with, you don’t know, though.

You could also just be hungry. You can smell the food through the door.

Before you can grab the door handle to turn it, though, someone on the other side pulls it open, and you hear an audible gasp from them when the two of you meet eyes.

Oh, shit.

It’s that guy you see with Nanami around campus—the tall one with white hair and glasses. He's dressed similar to you in an old band shirt with the logo so faded you can barely read it and a pair of grey sweatpants.

You see him look at Nanami, then back at you, then back at Nanami, then back at you again.

“Hi,” you greet shyly, now suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, barely a meter separating you.

“Hi,” he awkwardly lets the word fall from his mouth, seemingly in some sort of disbelief. His eyes fall to your necklace, just barely peeking out from behind the neck of your tee shirt. “Are you here for the game night…?”

You nod, lips pulled in a nervous smile. “Yeah.”

“Like, to play?”

“Um, yes…?” You take out the box from your pocket. “Here’s my deck.”

And once the words sink in, he just about lights up, a grin now on his face as he throws up his arms in celebration.

“Woo! We got one person!”

There’s a chorus of cheers (and a few groans) from behind him, and he moves out of the way promptly to usher you into the space. “Please, please, come in!”

You look back at Nanami who simply rolls his eyes with a small smile, and you step into the room, careful not to trip over your feet in front of all these people. There’s a desk towards the front with a sign-in sheet and a pen, so you quickly fill in your name and deck color before taking a quick look around the room.

It looks like any other ordinary club party, save for some playmats stacked at the front table and small motifs around the room. All eyes are on you now, but people have their own food, drinks, and seem to have been talking casually amongst themselves at different tables and at the edges of the room. You thankfully don’t look out of place at all because no one is wearing anything fancier than a shirt with a collar (that person being Nanami). Trays of food that’re probably going to end up being leftovers for the next week are lined on a table to the side, and there’s a cute Gerbemon drawn on another poster by the trashcan to show where to throw things away.

The guy who opened the door is still brimming with energy, kinda like his crest’s just gotten activated, and he turns back around to face you. Funnily enough, he does have the necklace on: a blue tag with the crest of light engraved into it. It must’ve been hidden by his shirt earlier and shaken forward when he greeted you.

Guess this is him.

“Thank you for coming! My name’s Gojo!” He smiles, his hands pressed flat against each other at the side of his face. You give your name and a wave to greet him, and he leans in closer to you, having to bend his knees to meet you eye-level. You blush slightly, but you’re too frozen to move away. “Say, you look familiar. Have I met you before?”

“No shit, she’s wearing our college orientation shirt!” Someone shouts from behind him.

They’re promptly shushed, and you awkwardly laugh and scratch your cheek with your pointer finger. “I know Nanami, so maybe you’ve seen me talking to him around campus. I think I’ve seen you around before, too.”

The realization dawns on him, and he nods to himself. “Right! That, and I think I recognize you from the library. You study on the 6th floor?”

You nod. Honestly, you’re too occupied with your schoolwork when you’re at the library to pay attention to anyone else around you, so you aren’t surprised you don’t remember seeing him around there.

Promptly, Gojo shoos Nanami away and orients himself to be facing the same direction as you again, his arms spread out wide. “Well, grab something to snack on, and take a seat! Actually, let me know where you wanna sit, I’ll set up the table.”

“Sure! Uh,” you start, and you point at a table towards the opposite corner of the room, “is over there okay?"

“Whatever you want!” He chirps happily, and he practically skips over to grab a playmat and a handful of memory markers. He yanks on the back of one of his friends’ shirts to get his help setting up, and the long-haired ravenette gently knocks at Gojo’s head before coming along.

After you’re done grabbing your food (seriously, what’s with this spread?), you walk over to the table you’d pointed toward earlier, and you carefully put down your plate at the free space towards the end. Gojo’s friend is off standing somewhere else now, talking with Nanami and some other people you vaguely recognize, so it’s just you and the man of the hour where you are. There’s a cute Adventure-01 playmat between the two of you and a clay Koromon as the memory marker, which makes you smile to yourself.

You carefully twirl your fork to gather some noodles onto it, and Gojo leans down to grab something from a backpack. As he’s digging through it, he tuts the digivolution animation sound to himself, and you hum along yourself while you eat. As you take a bite, you faintly hear what sounds like a deck box opening and closing, so you figure now’s as good a time as any to ask.

“So, Gojo, who do you play?”

“You’ll see in just a second, let me count my cards real quick. I usually play blue, though,” he hums, moving back up into his chair.

Blue? You suppose you’d peg someone like him as a Magnamon player. Sucks for you, though, your deck isn’t strong enough as-is to have any chance against him. Even if he isn't playing Magnamon, blue is an awful matchup for purple.

“Who do you play?” He asks obliviously.

“I have a few other decks, but I brought Beelstarmon today,” you answer halfheartedly.

“Oh, I haven’t played against purple in a while, it’ll be fun!”

“Huh?” You say that more to yourself than to him. Does he take pleasure in knowing he’s about to mop the floor with you? He seems oblivious to your concerns, though, happily humming to himself again.

“Do you play any other colors?” He asks.

“Oh! Uh,” you gulp nervously, “I main yellow, but I like playing purple, too. I tried building green a while ago, though, just not really for me.”

He nods along, hands steady as he continues to count to himself. “That’s me and red. I really wanted to build an AncientGreymon deck, but I get too anxious playing without def. Sucks because I love the evo line, but I figure they’ll eventually have better blue-red hybrid decks that I’ll enjoy playing later. I have some white decks, I guess, but they’re so boring to play, especially D-Reaper, like, I can’t even play aggressive until the set is almost over! I really ought to branch out into black, I think…”

As he drones on, you peek up at him through your eyelashes. The more he talks, the more you realize that he’s just blissfully unaware of how anxious you are, and the more his carefree energy rubs off on you.

For the most part, everyone else in the room doesn’t pay either of you any mind. Your table is practically its own island, everyone else floating around and just making their own fun amongst themselves. It doesn’t seem like Gojo minds that they’re all doing their own Digimon-unrelated things, so you choose to ignore it too.

Getting a better look at him now, even at table height, he looks so tall, kinda like the chair he’s sitting in is too small for him. You see him smiling while he talks, occasionally swiping away something on his card sleeves as he counts them, and he seems to still be shaking with quiet excitement. His glasses hide his eyes a bit from this angle, but they sit nicely at the bridge of his nose. When they fall slightly, he throws his head back so he doesn’t lose count of his deck by moving his hands elsewhere.

He still gets distracted, though, getting so caught up in what he’s saying that he loses count anyway and curses at himself for needing to start over and make sure he’s not missing anything. Everytime that happens, his friends within earshot snicker at him and he barks back at them with some corny line from the anime, then immediately looks to you to make sure you catch the reference.

You didn’t think someone being so… dorky could be so cute.

You continue eating while he talks, nodding and giving answers when he asks for them. He seems to never pause, but it doesn’t feel like he’s talking at you—more like he’s trying to say as much as he can now while he’s got your attention. Not that he’d lose it this way, you latch onto every word because it’s not often that you get to listen to someone who actually enjoys this interest of yours in the same way you do, but also because you want to stay in your dreamland for a little bit longer before he places down his broken Magnamon combo and destroys you.

If nothing else, you suppose that even if you end up losing every game tonight, you’ll have at least had a good conversation with another fan.

By the time he’s finally ready to start the match, you’ve already finished most of what you picked up for dinner, and the two of you swap decks to shuffle. You aren’t supposed to look when you shuffle, but he hands his deck to you face-up, and you catch a glimpse of the top card.

Your hands also brush slightly in the exchange, but you hardly acknowledge it in your surprise.

You raise a brow and bring the deck closer to look at. “You’re playing Cendrillmon?”

“Yep!” Gojo grins, already starting to mix up your cards.

“...Didn't you just say you play blue?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue teasingly, “I said I usually play blue. But Cendrillmon’s my favorite digimon, so I figured I’d play her tonight.”

You light up. “That’s so cute! I love when people build their decks with digimon they actually like,” you gush.

“Right!? I wish it was more common,” he sighs wistfully. “Is Beelstarmon your favorite, too?”

You shake your head, turning over his deck so you can shuffle blind. “I like her a lot, but not my favorite. I just felt like playing purple today.”

You give the name of your favorite digimon when he asks, and he gives an enthusiastic thumbs-up to you as you both continue to shuffle.

“Well, I’m glad you brought purple, it would’ve been kinda boring if we were both yellow.”

“Probably, yeah. Did you only bring one deck?”

He shrugs, looking over to the door to the room. “Yeah, I honestly didn’t really think anyone was gonna come, so I just have the one.”

“Oh,” you say quietly. Right, like Nanami mentioned earlier.

“How’d you hear about tonight, by the way?”

“I saw a flyer at North Campus, most of my classes are around there.”

“Oh, sweet! I think I sent Suguru to put them up around there, I’ll have to be extra nice to him later,” he jokes.

“Sure.” After a pause, you blurt out what’s stewing in your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

"Why, what's wrong? You didn't do anything."

"I mean, I'm sorry there's not more people here. It must be disappointing."

When he hears your concern, he chuckles and waves you off with an honest grin. “Don’t be sorry! You’re here now, so it’s already much better turnout than I expected! Either way, it’s good to have an excuse for the crew to get together, and it still would’ve been a party even if it didn’t work out. I’ll introduce you to everyone after we play a few matches.”

“You’re more positive than I’d be, I’d probably be crying in the bathroom if nobody showed up to an event I planned.”

“Maybe, but, like I said, there is someone here, and she’s having a great time!” He exclaims, holding your deck out for you to take. “Right?”

You look up at his face, a nervous smile on his features as he waits for your answer. His eyes avoid yours, but you still bring up his cards to hide behind them as you smile.

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

His lips lose their nervous twitch as he sighs in relief. “Okay, thank goodness. I wouldn’t want to let down such a pretty girl."

You lower his cards to the table and laugh dryly. “Ha ha, very funny, Gojo.”

His careful smile suddenly drops and his eyebrows furrow behind his glasses. “Uh, I wasn’t joking.”

You look down at yourself, then back at him, and before you can retort with some other kind of comeback, his friend from earlier—the one with long black hair—passes by your table and puts a hand on Gojo's shoulder.

“Satoru, play nice.” Then he looks at you and slyly smiles. “Sorry about him, he’s a huge nerd.”

He groans, and he looks up at his friend frantically. "You say that like it’s a bad thing! Shoo! Leave us alone, quit embarrassing me!”

As the two of them continue to bicker, you bite back a smile at Gojo’s expense. He occasionally looks to you while him and his friend throw other empty insults at each other, his smile telling you he’s sorry you’re having to see the exchange (and maybe that you thought he was joking when he called you pretty). When the other guy leaves and tells you, once again, that he’s sorry you have to deal with the white-haired boy, you let out a small laugh that brings Gojo's attention fully back to you.

Gojo clears his throat and straightens up in his chair again, stretching out his hands in front of him with a forced smile. “Well, don’t mind him.”

His (very bad) attempt at nonchalance makes you laugh again.

"What's so funny?"

You chuckle to yourself and shake your head. "Nothing."

Once your smile has passed enough for you to be able to get back to shuffling, you hear him whine from across the table, now holding your deck even closer to you now for you to take. “Why are you taking so long to shuffle?! I wanna start playing!”

You roll your eyes at him, playfully hitting his hand with his own cards. “Well, excuse me for wanting a fair matchup.”

“You’re excused!” He laughs loudly at his own joke, but he waits patiently for you to finish, his head down on the table as he watches you.

After another couple seconds, you pass off your cards back to each other, your hands touching again. Neither of you acknowledge it, now occupied with setting up your cards on the mat, but you steal glances at him as you do to make sure he isn’t uncomfortable with the contact. It is your first time meeting him, even if you have seen him around a few odd times before.

It seems he has the same thought, and your eyes catch each other awkwardly. He chuckles to himself, a hand now on the back of his neck, and he tips his cards towards you in some kind of gesture that asks if you’re fine. You nod, and he shyly tips his head down again, a slight flush under his eyes.

Once everything else is set up, the two of you place down five cards from the top of your deck at the top of your playerspace, and you quickly pull out a coin from your wallet to wordlessly decide who goes first. He tells you “heads,” and he cheers when you flip it and you lift your palm to reveal heads.

“Okay, you ready?”

“Yep.”

You both hover your right hands over the playmat, then nod to each other before pulling them across the board to grab your cards.

“Digital Gate, open!”

☆

thank you for reading! comments are appreciated, so consider leaving one (and joining the taglist). have a good rest of your day! read chapter 2!

[lupin-et-rose]

BSD Brainrot (Pt. 2)

Just an outpouring of horny thoughts on main. (Again).

BSD boys x F!Reader — NSFW

Part 2 - Atsushi & Akutagawa (separately)

Warnings: Cursing, frequent sexual references, completely subjective headcanons

A/N: BSD gods, forgive me, for I have sinned. (Again).

Why is WAN the only group gif I can find for this filth-?! It is Ungodly~!

Minors DNI - 18+ only

Atsushi

Gods help me, I would not feel a damn thing sexually for this sweet cinnamon roll if not for fucking Tumblr-—

Can I just say I hate how this gif gave me *ideas*-?

Okay it first and foremost, this boy is probably the closest to Poe-levels of sub that you'll find on the ADA team.

Like, sure, he grows into his confidence and could eventually top/dom you, but more likely than not, it will be by your request.

And even then, the most likely scenario is that he's a service top all the way—and so hopelessly clueless about how this stuff works.

He grew up in what seems to be a very rigid and conservative orphanage, so chances are their sex-ed was minimal at best.

Because of that, at least for the first little while, you're gonna have to be his teacher.

Showing him where everything is, helping him find what feels good for you and for him.

But let me tell you—this boy learns. And not only that, this boy Remembers—

You show him something once, and Istg

Just imagine this boy: the first time you even suggest anything spicy, his entire face goes bright red. Like hands-in-his-lap, eyes-on-the-floor, stuttering apologies red.

“I-I mean… if you want to—I would! I just—I don’t know if I’d be any good at—”

You kiss him. Gently. He trembles.

And then he asks you questions. So many questions.

“Does this feel good?”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Do you want it slower?”

“Should I use more pressure?”

(He gets so adorably flustered if you moan without warning.)

His tiger form makes things… interesting. Once he’s comfortable enough, you start experimenting with that transformation—and he’s mortified at first.

But when you praise the strength in his arms? The heat of his skin? The way those claws barely scratch as he grips your thighs?

He whimpers.

“I’m not too much like this? You still want me?”

He’s the kind of partner who says, in all earnestness:

“I want to make you feel good. Please let me try. Tell me what to do.”

And when you do? He listens.

You guide his hands between your legs, teach him how to use his mouth, where to suck, how long to stay—and he watches your face the entire time like it’s the only thing that matters.

He’s embarrassingly sensitive. Whisper in his ear? Gone. Stroke your fingers down his chest while straddling him? Gone. Suck on his neck and call him “good boy”?

Absolutely wrecked.

Breathless, gasping, half-hiding under your touch and still trying to make you come first.

That tiger arm, though? Very dexterous. Very strong.

He holds you down with it once—accidentally—and the way you moaned makes something awaken in him.

“Did you like that?” he asks, wide-eyed and slightly dazed.

You smile. “Do it again, Atsushi.”

And he does. With a look on his face like he can’t believe what he’s getting away with.

The more confident he becomes, the more dangerous he gets.

He still asks before trying new things—but his voice gets lower. His hands steadier.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers, slowly sinking to his knees. “Let me take care of you. Please.”

The first time you two went all the way?

Atsushi was nervous. Not because he doesn’t want to—he definitely wants to—but because he cares so much it physically hurts. You kiss him once, and his hands are already shaking.

You have to guide him through everything. Kisses, touches, undressing—each piece of clothing taken off gets a gasp like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“You’re so—beautiful,” he breathes. “I don’t even know where to look—”

He keeps checking in. Constantly.

“Does this feel good? Is that okay? Am I doing this right?”

You have to literally hold his face and say, “Atsushi, you’re doing perfectly.”

He lets out this soft, shuddering breath like you just lifted a hundred-pound weight off his chest.

The first time he makes you moan? His brain short circuits. He stops mid-movement like—

“Wait. That—was that because of me?”

You nod. He blushes so hard it spreads down his neck.

Then he gets this determined look and says;

“Okay. I want to hear that again.”

When he’s finally inside you, he has to pause. Not because he doesn’t want to keep going—but because the sheer intimacy of it nearly undoes him.

He buries his face in your neck, whimpering, “This is real. You really want me.”

You wrap your arms around him, kiss his ear, and whisper, “I do. All of you.”

He’s not perfect—but he’s so attentive. So eager. So in love with the way you respond to him.

And when he finally comes, it’s with this shocked little cry, his entire body trembling, arms wrapped tight around you like he’s afraid to let go.

—Another special thing about that first time, was what a Koala that boy turned into after the fact.

He doesn’t even roll off of you right away. He just stays there, trembling slightly, forehead pressed against your shoulder, arms around your waist like he’s fused to you.

You run your fingers through his hair. His breathing slows.

And then, quietly—almost like he doesn’t want to say it—he whispers:

“…Did I do okay?”

You reassure him. You kiss his temple. You tell him how good he made you feel, how gentle he was, how deeply you love him.

And that’s when the dam breaks.

He clutches you tighter, lets out this choked little exhale, and you realize—he was holding it together for you.

Trying to be brave. Trying to impress you.

Now that it’s over, he lets himself feel it all.

He becomes physically incapable of letting you go. If you try to shift, or get up for water, or grab the blanket?

“No—stay. Just a little longer—please—”

His limbs wrap around you like vines. He tucks his face into your chest, eyes fluttering closed, voice muffled in your skin:

“I’ve never felt this safe before. Not ever.”

And if you pet him? Run your nails gently down his back, kiss his shoulder, hum something soft—

He purrs.

Actual tiger purring.

He’s too blissed out to even be embarrassed about it.

Later, when he’s a little more coherent, he gets weirdly formal about it.

“I, uh… I would like to do that again. Whenever you want. Or if you don’t want to again, that’s okay, too—I just… um… thank you.”

He bows his head. He bows.

You gently tilt his chin up and kiss him stupid again.

And when he sleeps? Oh, he clings. One arm under your waist, the other across your stomach. A leg thrown over yours. His whole body curved around you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the Earth.

You whisper his name. He doesn’t even open his eyes—just hums and squeezes you closer.

“Don’t let go,” he murmurs. “Even if I fall asleep. Stay with me.”

And you do.

Because now he’s yours—and he knows it.

Oh, but when the Tiger in him likes you too? Things get even better—

You notice it first during those soft, quiet moments after sex—when he’s warm and boneless against you, breath slow, cheek pressed to your shoulder, arms looped around your waist.

The purring starts up again—deep and resonant, like a lullaby from somewhere under his ribs.

But then you feel it.

The soft brush of something warm, furry, and alive curling around your calf.

You look down.

His tail. Poofed into being. Slowly wrapping around your ankle, then your thigh, and then the both of you like ivy.

He doesn’t even seem to realize it’s happening at first.

Until you stroke it and whisper, “Getting comfy, tiger?”

He jerks up, yelps, turns scarlet.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to—heh—I didn’t know it was doing that—!”

Oh, when the tiger in him likes you…Not just lusts after you. Not just obeys you. It likes you—enough to claim you, cling to you, curl around you like it wants to keep you forever.

A nd when you play with his hair? Or nuzzle him on the train? Or rub your thumb over the spot where his tail joins his spine?

That tail tightens. The purring deepens.

And Atsushi just melts against you with this soft, desperate little sigh.

“Feels…really nice. Don’t stop.”

But when someone interrupts? That’s when things get interesting.

Someone brushing too close to you in public. A stranger leaning in to ask a question. An agent standing just a bit too close while you’re on a case.

You feel it before you hear it: a low, warning growl, deep in his chest.

It surprises everyone—especially Atsushi.

He stares at them wide-eyed. Then at you.

“I—I didn’t mean to growl—I’m so sorry—are you okay?! I wasn’t trying to scare anyone I swear I—!”

You’re okay. More than okay. In fact… You lean in close. Brush your lips against his ear and whisper,

“Do that again in private.”

And just like that, his knees go weak.

If it happens in the field—some sleazeball with a smirk and wandering eyes—you see the tiger come out in his posture, his growl, the way his tail lashes behind him.

He’s not even aware of it. But you are.

And when the bastard backs off, and the threat is handled, and Atsushi returns to you flushed and flustered and full of apologies—

You grab him by the collar and pull him into the nearest dark corner.

“You growled. For me.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

You lick your lips. “Do it again.”

And before he can process what’s happening, you’ve got your hands under his jacket, lips on his neck, thighs parted as you drag him into the kind of kiss that makes his tail go rigid and his claws dig into your hips.

(Gently. Just enough to scratch. Just enough to feel.)

Later—after breathless gasps and soft apologies and trembling fingers—you whisper,

“The tiger in you really likes me, huh?”

And he hides his face in your shoulder, voice muffled and low:

“Yeah. I think… we both do.”

Then we hit the turning point. Once Atsushi had gathered enough confidence to hold his own—HO~BOY!

It starts with teasing. Your teasing.

You cup his face mid-makeout, whisper something like, “Still so red… You’re always blushing like you’ve never touched me before.”

You grin. You expect him to fluster.

But instead, though still blushing, something flickers in his eyes. Something almost like a challenge—like determination. He blinks at you, slowly. Tilts his head.

And says, “That’s cute coming from the person who starts shaking when I put my tongue right…”

His hand slides down between your thighs. You gasp. His lips twitch. The first flicker of a satisfied smile.

Or maybe you poke fun at how territorial he gets—“Purring when I scratch your ears, growling when someone looks at me, kneading my ass like it’s your favorite pillow…”

And he just shrugs, trying to be unbothered. Though your words - and the ones about to leave his mouth - make his ears burn.

“Well,” he murmurs, slipping a clawed finger beneath your waistband, “you’re mine. It’s only fair I treat you like it.”

That’s the thing: he remembers everything. Every soft spot. Every stuttered gasp. Every weak-kneed moan you gave him when he was learning.

And now? He’s got his claws in just the right places.

He presses you down into the mattress with that half-shifted tiger weight, mouth hot on your skin, breath panting in your ear:

“You taught me so well, love. Let me show you what I’ve learned.”

He kneads your thighs like a cat—claws just grazing, enough to leave tingling trails. He kisses your belly while whispering,

“Still think I’m too shy?”

And then his tail wraps around your ankle and pulls—gently but firmly—spreading your legs for him as he sinks down between them with a growl.

You swear the floor tilts. You try to sass back—“Oh, so you think you’re in charge now?”—but your voice cracks when he bites your inner thigh and mumbles,

“Only when you want me to be.”

Then he slides his tongue exactly where you need it, curls his clawed hand under your hip, and devours you like he’s starving.

His eyes glow faintly when he’s half-shifted. His fangs flash. His tongue—God, his tongue. You swear he’s figured out the exact pattern of pressure, temperature, and sound that makes you break.

“You’re so loud for me now,” he murmurs, pupils narrowed to slits. “Where’s all that teasing gone?”

And he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

When you come apart under him—shaking, crying his name, breathless and spent—he smirks. Pushes your hair back. Kisses your forehead.

Then purrs, “Do I still need the training wheels now, love?”

And even as you lie there twitching, legs numb and brain short-circuited, he’s still going.

Trailing his claws down your sides. Mouthing at your neck. Whispering,

“One more, just to be sure. You’ll remember this, won’t you?”

He’s still your soft boy. Still cuddly. Still blushes sometimes.

But now? Now he knows he can wreck you.

And sometimes, when you least expect it, you’ll catch that tiger smile—the one that says, I could break you again if I wanted. And maybe I will.

***

Akutagawa

(Istg, all the BSD boys in a randomiser & this is what came up after Atsushi. You can’t make this shit up.)

God help us all. You don’t just “sleep” with Akutagawa. You undo him. He doesn’t know how to be touched, how to ask, how to receive anything that isn’t harsh or violent or tactical. The idea that pleasure could be given—softly, gently—is so alien to him, he treats it like a reconnaissance mission.

In the beginning, everything is Rashomon.

You could be on your back, breath hitching, legs shaking, and it’s still the inky-black tendrils of his ability holding your wrists in place, tracing down your thighs like he’s mapping pressure points.

He doesn’t move his face. Doesn’t emote. His eyes flick over your body like a surgeon measuring every twitch and whimper.

His voice is low, command-heavy.

“Breathe. Again.”

“Hold still.”

“Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you come undone.”

He never lets you touch him back. Rashomon always intercepts. Not because he doesn’t want you to—he just doesn’t know how to take softness.

To him, your moans are data. The arch of your back is intel. He’s learning you like a battlefield—and fucking hell, it’s hot in the most emotionally constipated way imaginable.

And then—you touch his hair.

It’s nothing. Barely more than a brush, your fingers slipping into the dark strands at the nape of his neck while he’s above you, concentrating, scowling.

He freezes.

Like someone pulled a trigger on a trap he didn’t realize was rigged to his spine. His breath stutters. His hand (yes, an actual hand) trembles.

You murmur something small—something soft. Maybe a “Good boy,” maybe just, “You’re doing so well.”

And he vanishes. Stiffens. Retreats. Tosses some curt excuse about a mission or Dazai or the weather before slamming a door behind him and leaving you gasping and confused.

The next time you see him? He won’t meet your eyes. His hands stay gloved. He speaks in half-sentences, as though afraid you might kiss him in broad daylight and collapse the last defenses he’s spent years building.

Until you do kiss him.

Take him by the cravat. Pull him in. Press your mouth to his with love, not hunger.

That’s when he blue-screens.

Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t react—until, seconds later, his fingers are trembling around your waist and he’s kissing you back like you’re the first breath he’s ever drawn of clean air.

And from that moment on? All bets are off.

He becomes ravenous. Like the floodgates have opened and now he’s starving—for your body, for your touch, for the sounds you make when he presses you to his desk and hisses in your ear:

“Louder. I need to hear you.”

(Oh yeah—Akutagawa’s got an auralism kink that hits like a freight train. Your cries, your moans, your gasps when he licks you with terrifying precision? He’s rock hard from sound alone.)

He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize your lungs. Bites your shoulder to muffle his own groans.

His hands, once so hesitant, now trail reverently down your body—calloused fingers brushing your inner thighs like they might burn him if he grips too tightly.

And the first time you whimper his name? His knees almost give out.

He fucks like a man making up for lost time—sloppy, intense, possessive but never cruel. And when he cums, it’s with this raw, shaking groan, like the pleasure is tearing him apart.

Afterward, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He stays close. Hovers. Eyes you like you might disappear.

“You’re not… hurt, are you?”

You guide his head to your chest. Whisper, “I’m perfect.”

And he lays there like he might actually believe you.

The sheer insanity of how needy he becomes once he starts craving your touch.

It sneaks up on him. At first, it was tolerable. You’d kiss his cheek. Brush your fingers through his hair. Hold his hand under the table like it was no big deal. He thought he could handle it.

He cannot handle it.

Now he finds himself seeking it. Reaching out for your hand in quiet moments. Standing just a bit closer when you walk side by side. Letting his shoulder bump yours on the train even though he’s never let anyone stand that close before.

(And the second you rest your head on his shoulder? He stops breathing entirely.)

If you so much as sigh his name during a kiss? He’s on you. No thoughts. No restraint. Just gloved hands sliding under your clothes, lips on your neck, muttering, “Say it again.”

And God help you if you brush your fingers over the back of his neck—the spot right where his spine meets the edge of his hairline. He shudders. Every time. Like you just hit the kill switch on his self-control.

You start to do it on purpose.

He starts to lean into it like a cat.

At night, in private, he becomes downright clingy. You’ll wake up to find him half on top of you, one arm wrapped around your waist, his face tucked against your shoulder like he’s trying to disappear into your skin.

If you try to get up? His voice is groggy, rough:

“…Stay. A little longer.”

He doesn’t ask for affection. Not directly.

But he’ll nudge your hand toward his hair. Tilt his head to the side like a silent plea. Sit beside you and very, very quietly whisper,

“Touch me.”

And when you do? He sighs. Actually sighs. Like he’s finally breathing again.

Sex becomes less about dominance and more about being close. About skin. Contact. Hands on your hips, on your chest, on your face.

His kisses go from rough to hungry—as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth.

He starts to memorize you too. The exact angle your head tips when you’re about to lean in and kiss him. The way your breath catches when his fingers graze the inside of your thigh.

And when he starts craving it?

He’ll take you by the hand, bring you into the shadows of a back hallway, and whisper:

“I need you. Now.”

Rashomon still helps. Still flares out and restrains you sometimes. But it’s no longer about control. It’s about keeping you close. Holding you where he can touch you, kiss you, feel you.

You’ve become the one thing in his life he can’t stand to be without.

The First Time You Give Him Aftercare…You expected to have to ask him to slow down. To breathe. To lie down after.

What you didn’t expect was how quiet he gets.

Not cold. Not distant. Just… still. Tension thick under the surface. A storm not yet spent.

He always checks on you first.

Pulls his gloves back on. Helps you redress in stiff, silent motions.

“Are you… hurt?” he asks, eyes flicking over your skin like it’s a damage report.

You tell him you’re okay. Kiss his cheek. Whisper, “Now let me take care of you.”

He stares at you like you just spoke a language he doesn’t know.

“…I don’t need it,” he mutters.

You cup his face, run your thumb along the sharp line of his cheekbone.

“I didn’t ask if you needed it. I’m doing it because I want to.”

You get him a warm towel. Gently clean the marks left on his skin—nail crescents on his hips, love bites blooming at his collar. He watches every motion, frozen, like he’s afraid to breathe.

He can’t make eye contact. Not until you tuck him against your chest, fingers combing through his hair, and whisper something so small and sweet it nearly breaks him:

“You don’t always have to be strong with me.”

And that’s when he shakes. Just barely. Not quite crying. But trembling.

You kiss his hair. Rub circles into his back. Stroke the muscles in his arm until his fingers unclench.

And slowly—slowly—he begins to relax into you.

His breath evens. His body stops bracing.

You whisper, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

He murmurs, barely audible: “…Thank you.”

Aftercare for you is harder for him to grasp. He tries—but it’s clumsy at first.

He offers you water with trembling hands. Wipes your brow with the stiff grace of a man who’s read about tenderness but never felt it.

But he learns.

You show him how to hold you without urgency. How to be present with you, not just for you.

And when you kiss him afterward—slow, unhurried, gentle—he exhales like a man who’s just learned the word love in a language only your touch can translate.

The second time he lets you care for him, he doesn’t flinch when you pull him into your lap.

The third time, he asks—quietly.

“Will you hold me again?”

By the fourth time?

He’s the one guiding you to bed after. Curling around you protectively. Whispering,

“You were perfect.”

It’s still awkward. Still a little stiff. But it’s his way of saying:

I’m yours. You showed me how to rest. And now I’ll never stop wanting to rest with you.

Outside the bedroom, He doesn’t get jealous. He gets… observant. Watchful.

Someone talks to you for a little too long? Leans too close? That gloved hand is suddenly placed—casually, perfectly—at the small of your back.

His fingers curl, just slightly.

“Are you done?” he asks the third party without looking at them.

(You swear the air temperature drops ten degrees.)

You wear something a little more revealing than usual on a mission. Nothing scandalous. Just enough to draw a few lingering glances.

He says nothing.

But you feel Rashomon wrap lightly around your wrist while you’re walking beside him.

A soft tug.

A silent reminder: Mine.

You reel back laughing at something Tachihara says.

Akutagawa doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t raise his voice.

He just steps closer behind you, mouth near your ear, voice low as sin:

“Tell me—does he make you gasp for air like I do when I have my mouth between your thighs?”

You choke. Tachihara smirks at both of you, shooting a smarmy wink your way before he backs off. Akutagawa’s still glaring.

In bed, it’s different. Hotter. Worse.

You think you’re in charge for a second—riding him, grinding slow, teasing him with praise.

Then his voice drops:

“You want to play coy, now? After the way you screamed for me last night?”

And suddenly Rashomon is bracing your hips down, grinding you into him at his pace, until you’re gasping and cursing and his name is the only thing in your mouth.

He doesn’t like being separated on missions. Even if it’s strategic. Even if it’s necessary.

“You’re better at recon,” you argue.

He shrugs. “You’re better at staying alive when I’m nearby.”

If someone else touches you, even innocently—a teammate brushing your arm, a hand on your back in a crowd—he notices.

You always know because he touches you back in the exact same spot ten minutes later.

Slow. Deliberate.

Like he’s rewriting it.

And if you stray too far during a joint op? Oh, he’ll find you. He always does.

Silent as a shadow, he appears at your side, eyes sharp.

“Don’t stray far again,” he murmurs.

You try to play it off—“I was only across the street.”

His hand slides to your waist. Pulls you in close.

“I mean it.”

He doesn’t say “mine”—he acts it.

In the weight of his stare when someone else makes you laugh.

In the curve of Rashomon around your ankle beneath the table.

In the way he whispers your name in your ear when you’re close to coming—

“Only I get to see you like this.”

And when you finally whisper back, “I’m yours”?

The look in his eyes isn’t just possessive. It’s worshipful.

Like he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

And like he’ll destroy anyone who thinks they could.

[manifestingitgurlll]

HIIIII sorry for this being long but here’s a big success story using your advice about knowing and nothing else even with circumstances: i got the car I wanted!!

Story:

My dad finally decided it was time for me to get a new car because I’ve been driving a very old one from 2001 with some issues. I wanted this specific car but he was NOT budging

Circumstance 1: My dad ended up sending me a list of cars to pick from. The car I wanted was not on there. I immediately got anxious and wanted to give up because my dad is VERY stickler about his choices with these things since he’s paying for it. Even though I was anxious and doubting I still just told myself that sight doesn’t matter and that I know I have my car. I still had to choose from his list though (but actions don’t matter right 😛).

Circumstance 2: we went out to look at cars and I asked if we could go to the dealership for the car I wanted and he said “we aren’t in the market for that car. You need these type of cars” (referring to the list he sent). My heart was racing and I got so upset and pissed off. atp I was like bruh I’ll just choose from his list bc I don’t want to disappoint myself. but I thought of your posts and thought that I can’t keep avoiding practicing this for ‘big stuff’ out of fear of disappointment. It will just keep me in the same loop. So right then in my head I was like “I know I have my car” even while feeling like I was lying to myself (but feelings don’t matter right 😛)

Finally a couple days later he randomly sent me a link from a website of the car but it wasn’t the color, year OR model I wanted 😭. I almost settled because at least it was the general car plus I was shocked that he suddenly sent that in the first place but i was still just aware of having MY car.

Circumstance 3: he told me it’s either the one he sent or the other cars he originally listed so I just told him I wanted that one he sent while still knowing I had my car. Then guess what…. the car listing got taken down as we were going there to see it 🥲. Miraculously though the exact one I wanted was on the lot. Even when the dealer pointed it out my dad was like “I’m trying to get her off this one”. (I think because it was out of the price range). He did give in and let me test drive it though and it was PERFECT. While driving it, in my head I was just knowing that I had my car. Mind you I was still having thoughts of “this is too good to be true. He’s just letting me do this for fun. I’ll still have to get the car I don’t like”

Circumstance 4: ATP I was feeling a bit better about the car being mine after having driven it. (Even though feelings don’t effect anything or make it ‘more true’ if they are positive feelings, it’s always nice when your feelings/emotions align with having your desire). Then… it all came crashing down because my dad said they are not budging on the offer he made and that i need to go back to the original list. I was mad at myself because I began assuming that the thoughts I had while driving the car manifested. I kinda spiraled but then thought of your post about sight meaning nothing. I let myself spiral but knew that I still had my car. I was doubting a lot again at this time. He started sending me links to different cars and I was just like bruhhh. But I remained as “I know I have my car” even while feeling extremely anxious.

A couple days passed to today and I’ve been so anxious that he was still waiting for me to choose a car from the list and links but THEN this morning he randomly texted me: “Clean all your personal stuff out of the car and bring it to the dealership we went to on Friday. I’m on the blue car”. I literally almost cried reading it because I was so anxious and I’m still in disbelief. Like similar to your test story, I was very prepared to NOT get this car but I was also NOT identifying with that story. I felt the feelings, the doubt, the emotions of the story but I was still like “I know I have my car”.

Anyways thank you so much for your posts. Knowing truly trumps everything else that we think holds us back and now I’m getting the car I wanted 💗💗💗💗

OMG YES YES YESSS!! IM SMILING SO HARD FOR U RN 🥹💕

you did everything perfectly!! knowing truly is the only thing that matters, no matter what. even tho you saw those bad circumstances, and you thought/felt negatively, you continued to stick to the new story which had no choice but to reflect. I LOVE THIS FOR U!!!

im so so happy my posts could help you and you could think of them while manifesting 🫶🏽 tysm for sending this in too! enjoy your car! 🤎🤎

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Tim falling for you

Tim Bradford x reader

warnings:

a/n: im gonna be so honest i love him your honor

prompt: @sacredwarrior88: “May I please request headcanons for Tim falling in love with a female detective who's also a veteran and swore off love and relationships after her divorce?”

you’d just transferred to mid wilshire a few months prior

and from the moment tim heard you complaining about discipline and rookies needing a kick in the ass—he was head over heels

you were also a veteran, he felt a connection with you for that

he’d always make small talk with you

“so, where’d you serve?” -tim

he was cute and all, you just weren’t ready to fall in love again—or ever

“you know, i think tim really likes you, l/n” -lucy

“oh, i know” -you “you don’t become a sergeant in the army and not be able to tell when a boy has a crush on you”

“so? you don’t like him back or something. he’s a great guy, he was my TO. i mean, he’s a hard ass, but like, he’s a great guy” -lucy

“i appreciate you trying to help, but i’m not here looking for a relationship, chen” -you

harper and lopez would rag on him constantly for not making a move

“they just got here, i’ll give it a few more months” -tim

“it’s been a few months, what’s really going on?” -lopez

“yeah, bradford, i never took you for a shy guy” -harper

“we’ve been out for a few beers, it’s just…” -tim

“well, spit it out!” -lopez

“y/n just got divorced and told me they don’t want to get into anything serious—ever again” -tim

“wow, your dream partner just walks into your life and is unattainable by means of hating all men” -harper

“well, you thought you’d never find love again after your divorce and look at how far you’ve come, tim. at least give it a little time” -lopez

“isn’t that what i just said?” -tim

“i get where y/n’s coming from, though. i mean, after i got divorced i was over all men forever. now i’ve got a husband and another beautiful daughter” -harper

tim felt really discouraged, he thought you were perfect for him but he understood that dating a coworker was complicated. so was divorce

but instead of trying to get you, he tried to be there for you

“how’ve you been. new station, new city, new start?” -tim

“it’s fine. taking it day by day” -you

“you know, i could give you some good restaurant recommendations or something?” -tim

“no thanks, lucy beat you to it” -you

“of course she did. you know, she used to be my rookie” -tim

“she told me right after she told me you have a crush on me” -you

tim got red in the face very fast

and you made sure to keep your composure just long enough to make it awkward

“she…she did, did she?” -tim, through clenched teeth

“yep” -you, starting to laugh

“you’re messing with me” -tim

“i’m not, actually. i just think its cute you’re embarrassed” -you “but you already know my story”

“i do. and i hope you can take the time you need before you agree to go out with me, because i don’t think i’m gonna get you out of my head anytime soon” -tim

“ooh, sergeant bradford, i didn’t think i’d get to see this side of you. you’re always tripping over your words with me” -you

“well, i had a helpful talk with some meddling detectives” -tim

“i can take a guess who you’re referring to” -you

“i’d love to grab a beer with you sometime if you’re not ready to date yet, but i’d love to grab dinner with you if you are” -tim

“i’ll give dinner a thought, but for now drinks will do” -you

tim started treating you mostly normal and getting his confidence back since spilling his guts to you over drinks, and the girls were cheering him on every time you were within 20 feet of each other

he started treating you professionally, with a few winks and sly comments here and there

“so, you’re giving bradford a chance?” -lopez

“i’m giving a chance to giving him a chance” -you

“i feel you there, after my divorce i couldn’t imagine dating again, but i’m glad i found it in me to give my husband a chance” -harper

“he’s a good one?” -you

“eh, i’d give him a solid 6 out of 10” -lopez

“yeah? well i’ve been debating taking him up on that dinner, but that six rating really convinced me” -you

you finally found caught tim after shift and gave him the good news and he couldn’t be more excited

really, he’d been planning this date for weeks

and it went amazingly

“can i kiss you?” -tim

“only if you want to” -you

taglist: @summersimmerus //

[bvidzsoo]

Above the world

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

🕸️Warning: cursing, mentions of murder and robbery, wounds, slightly suggestive 🕸️Word count: 25.6k 🕸️Rating: nc-17 🕸️Genre: Spiderman!AU, Marvel & DC references, superheroes!AU, strangers to lovers!AU, highschool!AU 🕸️Summary: Moving to a new city due to your mother's psychotic ex-fiancé, you thought the past wouldn't catch up with you, but it does. You're an outcast at your new highschool until a tall and dorky guy approaches you and decides to be your friend. Oh, and did I mention there's also this weird superhero kinda guy in the city who calls himself Spiderman? And why does he kind of remind you of your new friend?

A/N: Lovelies, it's finally here!! I've been planning to write this story for at least two months now, I just didn't have the time for it, but it's here at last! Few things I'd like to quickly point out: 1. I hope the humor I used isn't a miss as once again I wanted to explore something new and used a different writing style, 2. they are in highschool but it's not cringe, I promise (I haven't written a highschool setting in ages lol), 3. I used some terms that are skateboard related and so, I'll leave a little glossary of what those mean below! ^^ (I hope I managed to describe these well) (I hate the fact that I didn't incorporate the famous "hold on tight spider-monkey" line, but it is what it is lol) Sorry if there are any mistakes, I do proofread but it's super late rn and my brain might not pick up on all the mistakes! :') Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this little (not so little) story, and your feedback is always super welcome, they inspire me to write even more lol! divider

⎊ (I have an Iron Man!Mingi oneshot, if you're interested! ^^)

🕸️360: a complete skateboard and body rotation performed either frontside or backside 🕸️180: a half skateboard and body rotation performed either frontside or backside 🕸️alley-oop: an aerial transition trick in which the skater moves his body sideways in the opposite direction of the rotating movement 🕸️backside: a trick or turn executed with the skater's back facing the ramp coping or the obstacle 🕸️alley-oop backside 50-50 grind 🕸️540 backside 🕸️airwalk: an aerial trick in which the skater grabs the nose of the board, kicks the feet out while in the air, and then quickly back on when he's about to land it 🕸️ollie: a trick in which the skater uses his or her feet to pull the skateboard up into the air 🕸️backside nose slip 🕸️frontside boneless 🕸️Casper Flip: a trick in which the skater performs a half-flip and then uses the back foot to grab the tail and whip it

            Despite the unfamiliarity of the dimly lit street, there was something very comforting and—quite familiar—about this new place. Perhaps I couldn’t call it home just yet—given that it’s barely my second day here—but there was something cozy about the wet ground shimmering underneath the glimmering streetlamps that did little to nothing to light up all corners of the—otherwise—dark street. Not many are out at this hour, and it’s not because it’s too late, it’s the fact that my mother and I managed to find ourselves—barely— a modest little house, in probably one of the dodgiest parts of this, new, promising, and quite huge city. I wouldn’t call it the slums—I’ve seen worse places compared to this one—but the eerily empty street could make anyone run back inside their house upon nightfall. And, well, I get it—if it weren’t for my favourite music blasting through my wired—probably from the Stone Age—earphones, I probably would’ve found myself scurrying back home as well. But for once, I didn’t mind the cool breeze of air that’s settled upon the city after the rain that came out of nowhere. It was autumn, but the leaves haven’t started falling down just yet. It was the perfect timing for me to join my new high-school, not that there was ever a good timing, per se, I always thought a newcomer would remain just that—a newcomer. And while I didn’t have had to move towns in quite a while now, I still remembered what kind of treatment would be waiting for me tomorrow.

The new girl in school. Everyone would be eager tomorrow to get to know me, to talk to me, to try and befriend me. And me—well, I had nothing against all that—but deep down I just really wished to remain unseen, and most importantly, unbothered. I have never considered myself a very sociable person, and later than sooner, people would realize that and they would finally leave me alone. I don’t have many friends for this exact reason, and the one I do have moved to Spain a long time ago, our phones now the only way to keep in touch—my mother finally saw the important of me being on my phone so often. But it was fine, I didn’t mind the distance, however, there were days when I wished we could hang out, go on small trips, enjoy each other’s company. Nayoung had promised to visit soon, but we both knew she was too busy with her life over in Spain for that to happen anytime soon, and I didn’t have it in myself to pester her about the promise she made.

The neighbourhood my mother and I had moved to wasn’t too far from the heart of the city—and while one would expect it to be lively and bright, it was anything but that—even during the daytime. People seemed to avoid making eye contact and they hung their heads low around here, barely muttering even as much as a greeting if you crossed paths with them down the wide street, even if they were your neighbours. The houses, too, seemed to be silent at all times, no little children screaming and laughing or playing outside, no rowdy teenagers blasting music and getting yelled at for not doing their homework. It was odd, but it was only temporal—well, that is if my mother manages to land herself a better paying job so that we can move away from here. These houses were closely pressed up against each other, back gardens rather—inexistent. Our house just so happened to be neighbouring a huge building��offices, someone had told us—but for what business, we didn’t know. And probably wouldn’t want to know.

I’ve seen some roughed-up people come and go from the beaten-up building. The narrow alleyway just so happened to be a dead-end between our house and this building, and my mother had been debating whether she should place bars outside on my window as it just so happened to be facing this small alleyway. It wasn’t as dark as one would expect it to be, but a barely lit-up streetlamp did a shitty job at fully illuminating it.

I bobbed my head to the music, humming—hopefully—quietly to myself as I skipped down the road, almost splashing myself in the process as I failed to notice a rather deep looking puddle. I chuckled as I narrowly missed it and threw the plastic bag over my right shoulder—completely forgetting I had eggs in there. With an alarmed expression, I scrambled to hold the plastic bag normally and peeked inside, letting out a sigh in relief upon seeing that the eggs were completely fine, not one cracked. I knew my mother would make me walk back to the small convenience store—which was probably about to close up—and I really just wanted to watch my anime—the one I had seen about five hundred times, but who cares?! Some people tend to cling to that what brings them the most comfort, and this anime was like that for me. However, just as the chorus of the song blasted through my earphones, I cleared my throat, ready to mouth the lyrics as I remained alone on the street, when I felt a harsh tug on my right arm. And when I didn’t react to it straight away, I was pushed forward, stumbling through a puddle and splashing my new white Vans.

“Oh, come on, man!” I snapped, frowning down at my, now, dirty shoes, “I just got these yesterday!”

As I turned and went to pull out the earphone from my left ear, I was met with a sight that I wasn’t exactly expecting. Well, to be fair, I thought a kid or an asshole had run into me on purpose, but—having a metal gun almost pressing into my forehead certainly wasn’t what I was expecting—what a way to greet your new neighbour on their second day of living here!

“Empty your pockets!” The tall man, dressed in all black—typical—hissed as I managed to pull out both of my earphones while moving slowly, “And give me everything that’s pricey.”

Well, jokes on him, I didn’t have anything pricey on myself…well, except for my phone, “I don’t really have that many pockets, man.”

I pulled my cardigan’s pockets out, showing the robber that I really had nothing inside, “Look, man, if you think you are broke?! Just look at me! You are really out here trying to rob a broke high-school student—”

“Shut up!” The man snapped, and I froze as the barrel of his gun was now forcefully pressing against my forehead. Uh, yeah, if there’s one thing I totally suck at—well, it’s shutting the hell up when needed, “Give me your rings! Now!”

My eyebrows furrowed and I looked down at my hands, scowling as I realized I was wearing all of my favourite rings. Like hell was I giving them to this dude!

“Honestly, I got these from some antique shop for the cheapest price ever,” I huffed, raising the plastic bag between us and trying to ignore the way my heartbeat picked up when the man’s eyes narrowed, gun pressing just a little bit harder against my cold skin—okay, I have started sweating, “But you can totally take this bag! Like, man, it’s all yours, really! I’m not even hungry anymore! My mom’s hot dogs can wait for another day, you can have it, man.”

“What the fuc—” But before the man could even finish his sentence, he was gone. Like—gone. Whisked away, or some shit. I stood there, dumbfounded, mouth gaping and blinking at nothing. I swear, the man was in front of me a second ago and now he’s—not anymore? I gulped, squeezing the plastic bag to my chest—disregarding the fact that I could crack the eggs—and slowly looked around, now finally acknowledging the fact that I was really panicking. What do you mean I was being threatened a second ago at gunpoint and now that motherfucker disappeared into thin air?! Did I inhale something sketchy when I passed those two dudes in front of the convenience store? Was I hallucinating now? Has the trauma induced by my mother’s ex finally caught up to me, ready to torment me? Am I going to—the soft thump in front of me made me freeze as I slowly moved my eyes from the sky towards where I heard the sound come from and—yeah, I screamed.

“Hey, hey, wait!” Whatever that thing was called out, making my eyes widen as I accidentally stumbled back, certainly about to fall into a puddle, but—a web shot out towards me from that thing’s wrist and caught me mid-air, gently stabilizing me, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not here to hurt you! I just—saved you, actually.”

The sound—well, voice—coming from underneath that thing’s—man’s—mask was boyish and a little bit distorted, but I could hear its—his—tone very well, still. It was soft and sounded rather concerned. Having realized that I was still gaping towards this—something—with my heart practically in my throat, I closed my mouth and blinked furiously, trying to clear my head as I shook my body in case this was a dream—it seemed like the perfect moment to wake up, before it could turn even weirder.

“Okay,” The masked thing—man, guy, whatever—mused, clearly sounding amused now, “I’ve never seen anyone react like that to Spiderman, actually.”

“A spider what?” I asked confused, eyebrows furrowing as I held onto the bag even tighter. For a moment, there was complete—awkward—silence.

“Spiderman?” The person sounded unsure as they scratched their nape, its mask blinking. I jumped, allowing my eyes to fully take in this—creature?! Why did it look like a real man if they called themselves a Spiderman?! As if all that wasn’t enough, the person was tall enough to loom over my form in its red and blue glory, the costume moulding against their lean and—softly—muscular body, looking like a second skin, almost. The design was intricate, and I could swear it looked like it had some actual web sewed into it. All in all, the outlook was quite cool, it’s just that it was confusing to look at…him? I mean, the person did look like a man, alright—a fine one, on top of that—and they did call themselves a man, so.

“Are you going to—morph into a spider or some shit?” I found myself asking, sounding less mortified than I felt on the inside. That was good, no? I mean…this creature still hadn’t attacked me or killed me, so we were getting somewhere, right?

“Morph into a spider—” And then the creature—man—was laughing hard and loudly, doubling over as its body shook, hitting its knees with its hands, making me narrow my eyes at them. Nothing about what I had asked was funny. I was genuinely confused. Was this some kind of prank? Would I end up going viral all over the internet? Where were the cameras?

“I’m not Antman.”

“Antman doesn’t turn into an ant.” I deadpanned, the stranger in front of me raising up to their full height again, quieting down. I swear to God, I could just about slightly see their lips pursed, but the mask did a good job at concealing every feature of the stranger’s.

“Yeah, you’re actually right.” The stranger seemed to agree with me, and if I had to take a guess, he was probably smiling underneath his mask, “So, if Antman doesn’t turn into an actual ant, do you think Spiderman will turn into an actual spider?”

“Where are we? At school?” I deadpanned sarcastically, eyebrows furrowing as I just realized the web this creature had shot towards me to stop me from falling into the puddle was still clinging to my forearm. Ew.

“Right, I’m—oh.” The stranger cut themselves off as something on their left arm started buzzing, quiet beeping catching my attention as I looked towards his wrist, at which the weirdo was blinking down at now—well, their mask was, “Sorry, duty calls, them bad boys are asking for it again. Are you far from home?”

“No, I live right down the street.” I found myself answering whatsoever, the fear of getting murdered miraculously gone despite this weird encounter.

“Cool, then hurry home before it gets later and more dangerous.” The stranger’s voice was friendly, and I watched as they bent their knees a few times, looking like they were about to launch themselves away.

“Wait—” I quickly said, biting my lower lip when the masked man turned his head towards me, “where’s the guy that was threatening me?”

The stranger just shrugged his shoulders once, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother you again anytime soon.”

“Oh, okay.” I whispered, eyes widened once the stranger shot another web from their wrist, this one quite long as it latched onto the side of an abandoned factory. Wow, just how was that possible? Wouldn’t it break? No, wait, it was able to hold me without breaking, so it certainly wouldn’t break under this man’s weight—isn’t that impressive?!

“Hey,” Snapped out of my thoughts, I was surprised to find the man crouched down, funnily resembling a frog, “I’m glad I found you at the right time, but try to be more careful next time, I’m afraid I won’t be always around to save you.”

I gulped and nodded, feeling my cheeks tinge red a little, “Thanks…Spiderman?”

The person chuckled, soft and a little deep, somehow the voice modulator unable to properly mask the sound, and then—as quickly as he had appeared in front of my eyes out of thin air—he was gone just like that too. I whipped my head up with my mouth falling open, watching in awe as the man swung around from building to building, making it seem like nothing. He had some mad trust in those webs of his, I could never. My fear of heights simply would make me too terrified to frail around like that, so high up in the sky. One misstep and—well, you’re dead.

The loud barks of a dog coming from a house down the street made me jump, and I realized I should’ve long made my way home. Couldn’t have my mother worrying about me so soon, and so, heeding the advice of this…Spiderman, I hurried the rest of the way back home, reminding myself to look up this mystery—hero?

            Well, school turned out to be the complete opposite of my expectations. The ambush I was waiting for as I walked through the large front doors—well, it never happened. People swarming towards me, desperate to meet and greet the new girl—that, also didn’t happen. Perhaps I misjudged the situation at first, after all, not all people were so eager to make new friends, but to not have at least one single person approach me was—simply put, odd. Well, it was odd until I found out the reason as to why everyone seemed to steer clear from my path, avert their eyes—or even going to the length of staring at the ground while they walked past me—or why I heard whispers behind my back everywhere I went. They’ve heard what my ‘step-father’ had done. By now, everyone knew why my mother and I had to move to a new city, yet nobody bothered enough to hear the full story—or at least wait before judging me. He wasn’t even my step-father, actually, my mother never got to marry him with how he’s now locked up in federal prison, rotting away in a cell.

“Did you hear her father stabbed the man one hundred times?”

“Do you think she’s also a psychopath?”

“She does look like one, if you ask me.”

“Who even allowed her to enrol in our school?!”

“Wait, what if she carries a knife on her like her father did?!”

“Do you think her father brought her out with himself to hunt for his prey together?”

Were some of the absurd whispers I managed to catch during the four hours that I’ve been at my new school, and these questions just kept getting more hilarious and deranged each time I heard them.

“Yes, and he made sure to teach me how to smell a weakling, too.” I had smirked, just barely turning my head, to look at the blonde girl in line behind me as we were waiting for our turn to pick up our food, “Usually blondies like you are easy to lure in, sweetheart. Less yapping and paying more attention to your surroundings might save you next time from saying something embarrassing about said person standing right next to you.”

The blonde’s eyes had almost bulged out of her eye sockets just as it was our turn to pick up our food for the day, and then I was off to find a table that was still empty as I knew no one would want to sit next to me. Thankfully, the canteen of the high-school was spacious enough.

And after that, not much happened other than people unabashedly staring my way and whispering, the teachers being either very nice or acting uncaring towards me. And by the middle of the day, I was finally ready to head home, but I had yet to power through two more classes. And if that didn’t sound excruciating enough, the loud laughter suddenly dying down as a group of girls passed by me, certainly brought a sour taste into my mouth. I couldn’t help myself as I played into the rumours and hissed at the girls, making them scramble off in a frenzy. I chuckled, and quite quickly almost choked on my own spit as someone had started to chuckle behind me, scaring the living daylights out of me. I had—foolishly—assumed I was alone in the hallway, wanting to pick up a few books from my locker before I would head to my next class. I had zero intentions to pay attention in my last two classes, reading some manga will do for the time being.

“You’re not helping yourself by feeding into these people’s delusions.” The same voice that had chuckled spoke up as I whirled around, totally not expecting to see the loomingly tall guy from my classes, leaned against the lockers, a dashing smile on his face. Fuck. Did he have to be so handsome?

“Speaking to the ‘daughter’ of a criminal? How daring,” I whispered, faking a deranged smile as I grabbed something out of my pocket, “Aren’t you afraid you might be my next victim? Considering the fact that these stupid kids at school seem to think I’ve killed—fifteen people already?!”

And to that morbid ‘joke’, I certainly didn’t expect my cute—and handsome—classmate to burst out laughing. His puffy cheeks had a natural rosiness to them and I couldn’t fight the smile on my lips as I noticed the tips of his ears had turned slightly red as well. He laughed with his whole mouth, hand shielding it and oh—his fingers were nice. Long. Well—my classmate looked down at my hand, still laughing, as I held a plastic fork oh so menacingly and threateningly, pointed towards his chest.

“Why do you have a plastic fork in your jacket?” My classmate asked amused, narrowing his eyes teasingly, “Were you waiting all day long just to do that?”

“No!” I exclaimed mortified, hiding the plastic fork behind my back. God, this is now really embarrassing, “I just—I was wearing this jacket when my mom and I were moving in. I bought some food and this fork, apparently, and then completely forgot about it and left it in my pocket.”

I could swear I heard my classmate mutter a ‘cute’ before he straightened up, dusting his seemingly completely spotless jeans. Oh, God, okay, he’s tall tall. I gulped as I slightly had to look up at him, feeling so completely little despite having a quite decent height for a girl—not that there’s anything wrong with any type of heights.

“I meant to greet you during our lunch break, but my friends wouldn’t let me leave,” My classmate spoke up while scratching the back of his head, looking sheepish. I had to force my eyes to move up to his face from his hands, only to have my stomach doing weird flips. Oh, hell no, I was not about to have a crush on someone—let alone my classmate—the very first day I get to my new high-school. But the guy wore washed out blue jeans, looking a little baggy, and he had a white, probably, t-shirt peeking out from underneath his green long-sleeved blouse, a jersey with our school’s logo thrown over it. And the blue and white bandana around his greyish-greenish—and blueish in certain lightning—hair certainly pulled his outfit together, making him look really good. And despite considering myself someone who is almost always well dressed, I felt quite plain looking right now. Absentmindedly, I started playing with one of my many rings that I was wearing, “My name is Jeong Yunho, by the way.”

Right, Jeong Yunho. I’ve caught his name from the teachers and a few classmates already. I smiled, nodding a little, “Yeah, I’ve heard your name a few times this morning. I’m Kang Y/N.”

“It’s nice to officially meet you, then, Y/N.” I chuckled and shook his extended hand, totally trying not to gape at how big it was and how awfully well it enveloped around mine. Plus, his hand was way too hot, almost to the point it was burning my freezing hand.

“You too.” I found myself answering, but not quite present as I tried to pull my hand out of Yunho’s before I would start gushing about his fingers. God, when have I turned into this person? Yeah, I had a thing for hands, fingers, and rings, sue me—but never have I had it this badly for someone I just met.

“So,” Yunho said cheerily, clapping his hands together as I pushed mine inside my jacket’s pockets, “Do you want me to show you around school? I know a few good hiding spots for when you’re in the mood to skip classes.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be in class right now, though?” I asked confused, looking down the empty hallway. The bell had rung a good ten minutes ago, but I had figured the teacher’s would be lenient with me today as I was new and—didn’t actually know my way around school just yet.

“Nah,” Yunho chuckled, his features really boyish and—cute—damn it, “I spoke to the teacher, it was his idea to ask me to show you around, actually. You’ll find Mr. Kim a rather odd man, but he’s cool and really smart.”

“Oh, okay,” I muttered, pursing my lips as I opened my locker to put away my books as I didn’t need them anymore, “but for the record, that guy everyone is talking about, isn’t my father. We’re not related, not even a little bit. He’s a psycho and I’m glad he’s locked up for life.”

I didn’t mean to sound so—rough, but I hated the fact that everybody so quickly assumed things about me that weren’t even true. Yeah, I didn’t exactly want to be bothered and make new friends, but one or two people would’ve been still nice if they did approach me.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly care,” Yunho said with a casual shrug, giving me a small smile that made his cheeks puff out a little bit, “call it a spidey sense, but I think you’re a really nice person.”

My eyes narrowed as I huffed quietly, crossing my arms in front of my chest as Yunho grinned, looking ready to finally show me around, “Speaking of spiders, who the fuck is this Spiderman?”

            If there was one thing in the world that I would find no matter where I was—that was a skatepark. No matter how much I love watching anime and reading mangas, skateboarding just so happens to be a little higher up on the scarce list of my likes and dislikes. And after having cruised around my neighbourhood, narrowly avoiding the masses as I refused to step down off my skateboard, I finally found a skatepark. It wasn’t too packed, which was really awesome—I never actually liked it when it was full of rowdy kids wanting to show off—and it was in walking—or riding—distance from the neighbourhood I live in. At least the people around here look a little bit friendlier than the ones back on my street, my mother would finally have something to be happy about. She hates our new place—understandably so—and is restlessly looking for a new job, to the point that I had to shut her laptop off last night for her and send her to bed. Who is being the responsible adult now, huh, mom?

Today was my third day at school and—well, it could have been worse, to be fair. My peers still looked at me like I had two heads—or was carrying a knife on me—they still whispered made up shit about me—of course, they did, it was barely my third day—but somehow having Yunho around slightly helped? Yeah, Yunho—well, he is quite adamant on being my friend despite me very obviously ruining his perfect reputation. It wasn’t hard to notice just how popular this dude actually is at school. Everyone greets him in the hallways, people flock to him every few minutes, and he’s always smiling and making small talk with everyone. He does have his closer-knit friend group—who very obviously are not fond of me—yet he still somehow makes it seem like he’s friends with absolutely everyone. I wounder if he’s ever had an enemy in his life before—less likely, to be fair. With a face and personality like his, I don’t think anyone would have the guts to hate that guy.

But putting thoughts of Yunho aside and sending a quick text to my mother to inform her about my whereabouts, I placed my phone back in the back pocket of my jeans, and took off towards the slope. My skateboard glided smoothly along the ground as I passed by a few other skaters, the sky darkening soon as evening was slowly approaching. A group of guys were huddled together and watching something on their phones as I did a 360, grinning as they cast glances my way after the little trick I pulled. I wasn’t a big trick master, never too bothered to actually learn the ones that were more dangerous, however the few tricks I did know were pretty cool and nicely executed. Arriving to the slope, I stepped my left foot off the skateboard and looked down, watching a few skaters glide down and do tricks. The slope wasn’t too high nor too big, I had no problem going down it. So, stepping back onto my skateboard, I kicked off and grinned as my heart started pumping faster, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. I had tied my hair in a low ponytail, not keen of having it whipped in my face by the wind.

I grinned as my path was clear, making it possible for me to do a kickflip, my skateboard lifting and turning as I raised my knees high up, letting out a quiet huff as the moment was soon over and my feet were planted on my skateboard again, the speed and force enough to help me glide up on the other end of the slope. A guy and girl were at the top, both clapping casually as I grinned, doing a 180 turn before stepping off my skateboard.

“Nice one.” The girl praised and I bowed my head slightly, grinning.

“Thanks, you’re pretty cool yourself too.” I complimented her, having seen her do an ‘alley-oop backside 50-50 grind’. The girl grinned and did a mock salute before she was off the slope, in no time doing a 540 backside, making the guys—and myself—cheer for her. She had some nice skills; I had to give it to her. The girl grinned as she came to a stop at the top of the other end of the slope, shooting thumbs up towards us. I chuckled and walked to the side, taking a seat as my legs dangled off the slope. I had been riding around for more than half an hour, I could use a break right now. Besides, taking in my ‘competitors’ was always a smart move. And I mean, maybe I could make some friends too here? That girl seems pretty cool and the tricks she knows are awesome. I watched her do an ‘airwalk’, then ‘ollied’ off the side of the slope as she was headed towards a ledge grind, where she went for a ‘backside nose slip’. I placed my hands underneath my thighs as another guy went barrelling down the other end of the slope, doing a 50-50 grind as he came up on the side I was sitting at, before heading for a smaller ramp, nailing a ‘frontside boneless’. I pursed my lips and nodded, appreciating his technique as the bigger crowd of boys now kicked off too, weaving through the smaller ramps, doing tricks as one of them was headed for the slope. He grinned as he kicked off his skateboard, picking up speed as he went from one side to the other, winking at me as he did a 50-50 grind, making me snort. But he wasn’t done trying to impress the people who were watching him, and he daringly went ahead and did a ‘Casper Flip’, my eyes widening at how smoothly he nailed it. That was a trick I have tried to learn one too many times, but in the end my legs just got jumbled together—and not having enough patience—I just gave up on it.

The guy did another kickflip and then he was off towards his friends, who were loudly cheering him on, patting his back. I chuckled and looked around, noticing it was golden hour. It was beautiful, the sun coated everything in orange, reflecting off the windows of the tall buildings surrounding the park. I smiled and grabbed my phone, snapping a few pictures off it before I realized it was getting really late now and I still had to finish my Geography homework. So, just as I stood up, suddenly loud cheers erupted all around me, making me look around curiously. But there wasn’t anyone performing any cool or hard tricks, so I looked on confused, up until I saw someone pointing upwards. And as I looked up too, squinting as the golden hue of the sunlight was harsh to the bare eyes, I noticed something swinging from building to building. Red and blue and webs. Ah, Spiderman. I chuckled as I glanced at the kids in the park again, noticing the awe and excitement as they waved and pointed at the—hero?

“Spiderman!” A younger looking girl cried out, waving so hard her arm threatened to fall off any minute now, her phone in her hand, no doubt recording Spiderman. But the guy was too high-up to hear anyone call out for him. I grabbed my skateboard and placed my phone back in my pocket before I was off the slope, doing a few ollies and kickflips in the process, skirting around the mini-ramps, opting to just casually stroll out of the park. I pushed my hands in my pockets and allowed the skateboard to roll at an acceptable speed, smiling at the cool girl when she waved at me, noticing that I was on my way out. However, as my attention was on her, I failed to notice a guy rolling towards me rather quickly, in the midst of doing an airwalk, completely oblivious to me as he grinned at the camera his friend had pointed towards him. And when I finally turned my head to look ahead, it was too late as the guy and my skateboards crashed together, making me cry out in surprise. In no time was I tumbling towards the cold ground, bracing myself for the impact, thinking I would end up with scrapped elbows—if nothing anything worse.

But the impact never came and I stood frozen, hearing whispers around me and the other guy’s moans of pain. My eyebrows furrowed as I slowly opened one eye, mouth falling completely open as Yunho stood leaning over me, one strong arm holding me up around my middle, my body inches away from the ground. His eyes searched my face for a second before a huge smile stretched onto his lips, chuckling at my befuddlement as my heart continued to race. Since when was Yunho at the skatepark? And how did I fail to notice him? And why was I blushing so hard as he helped me stand up straight?

“Oh—uh—hi.” I muttered, feeling flustered as Yunho didn’t release me despite me being back on my two feet, “Thanks, that’s—impressive. Uh—since when were you at the park?”

Yunho chuckled and averted his eyes, his ears reddening suspiciously as he released me at last, “Just now—I mean, I was around. At the back, uh, I—I was passing by when I saw someone I knew in here and—are you okay?”

“It’s not me you have to be worried about.” I said with a grimace, pointing at the other guy that was now sitting on the ground, clutching his elbow to his chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Yunho sounded worried as he walked over, crouching down.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s broken.” The guy said and Yunho pursed his lips, looking alright with his answer, however, he still went and helped him off the ground, muttering something to the guy as he nodded and grabbed his skateboard before going off.

“What’d you say to him?” I asked curiously, looking up at Yunho with my eyebrows raised. He cleared his throat and ran his long fingers through his hair, the redness from his ears spreading to his neck now.

“That he should go to the doctor, it might not be broken but you know…a smaller rupture or something might still have happened.” Yunho explained and I hummed, looking around as I didn’t know what to say or do. The kids were slowly going home, the skatepark emptying, streetlamps illuminating the streets as the sun was gone now. It was time for me to head home.

“I have to—”

“Would you like to—”

Yunho and I looked at each other with our eyes wide, both a little embarrassed for speaking over the other. I could feel my face heat up and I looked down at the ground, stepping on the heel of my skateboard in order to hold it up, to have something to distract myself with.

“Sorry, you go first.” Yunho said, voice quiet as a car honked loudly as it narrowly avoided another one that just stopped without putting the hazard lights on.

“Oh,” I licked my lips before looking up at Yunho, for a second captured by his chocolate brown eyes. His silver-greenish-bluish hair was out of his eyes today, swept back a little messily with a middle part at his forehead, strands wavier than yesterday or the day before. It softened his features in a sweet way, “No, uhm, were you going to ask me something?”

“Yeah, I—” Yunho took his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitating for a second, “Would you like to grab something from the convenience store? Soda or anything else…”

I pursed my lips, calculating in my head whether I had enough money on me to go spend it at the convenience store, however, Yunho mistook my silence as a refusal, his cheeks instantly inflaming hot pink, “You don’t have to! I’m sorry, that was too much, I—I know we just met a few days ago, but—”

“I’d like to go, Yunho.” I cut his panicked ramble off, smiling at him amused. Yunho gaped for a second longer at me, but then he shut his mouth and chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. Why did he have to look so cute whenever he did that?

“Oh, cool, there’s a store right across the street.” Yunho pointed behind me, making me look back. Huh, I haven’t even noticed the convenience store before, but perhaps that’s because the windows were dusted up and there were no signs indicating that it was still in function, “Oh, it looks dodgy from the outside but they even have arcade games inside! I really like that place.”

“Sure, let’s go then.” I shrugged and offered Yunho a wide smile, taking off towards the exit of the park, “But I can’t stay for long, my mother will be worried about me no matter how many texts I send that I’m fine.”

Yunho’s chuckle mirrored mine behind me, and I pushed the gate open, stepping aside and holding the door open for Yunho. He thanked me and walked ahead, waiting for me at the crossroad. It took me a second to notice his cardigan, which was blue and super fluffy, and its hood had ears. It looked cute—why was everything cute about this guy? I quickly averted my eyes off Yunho when he turned to check that I was still keeping up with him—walking behind him, since his legs are too long and I can’t keep up with him—slowing down a little when he noticed I was struggling to hold my skateboard and also keep up his pace.

“Do you want me to carry that for you?” He asked with a smile, pointing at the skateboard.

“Ah, no, I got this.” I grinned, giving him a thumps-up, making Yunho chuckle as he quickly turned his head, muttering something to himself. As we arrived in front of the store, Yunho pushed the door open for me this time and stepped aside, ushering me inside. The place was actually well lit and there was a nice vanilla scent wafting through the air. I smiled as the clerk greeted us, beckoning us further inside. The walls were a neon yellow and fridge after fridge lined up against it, a few tables stern across in the middle of the space. It wasn’t a huge store, just enough for about ten people to fit inside. But the arcade Yunho talked about was nowhere to be seen.

“So, where’s that arcade at, huh?” I teased as I followed Yunho to a fridge, his grin so wide it stretched across his whole face. He sneaked a glance my way before turning towards a door I assumed were the toilets, and pointed one long finger at it.

“Beyond that door.” He answered and the opened the fridge, grabbing one strawberry milk for himself. I hummed and pursed my lips as I looked through the window of the fridges, trying to decide what I was craving. And chocolate milk was the winner as I grinned while grabbing it out of the fridge. The music wasn’t too loud inside the store, just the right volume if you wanted to have a conversation without bothering others or getting overheard. Yunho stood by the front desk, apparently conversing with the clerk, the two huddled close together. I narrowed my eyes at the two as I approached, propping my skateboard up against the sturdy wood of the front desk. The clerk cleared his throat upon noticing me and pulled back, plastering a generic smile on his face. His sharp eyes weren’t the friendliest, but he didn’t seem malicious.

“What’d you get?” Yunho asked as he looked down at me, still leaning against the front desk, arms crossed and resting on the wooden table. I placed my chocolate milk next to his strawberry one and smiled.

“Chocolate milk, haven’t had it in a really long time.” Well—does one consider three days ago a long time ago? Because I do, certainly. Yunho hummed and then faced the clerk again, nudging his head in the direction of our items.

“Think you can put them on my tab, Joong?” Yunho’s grin held mischief as he snickered in the clerk’s direction, who’s eyes narrowed.

“This isn’t a bar, Yunho, no, I can’t put it on your tab.” The clerk’s voice held exasperation as he heaved a long sigh, “You still haven’t paid for your last purchase—”

“Hey! I thought we had an agreement about that one!” Yunho exclaimed, looking offended as the clerk just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Fine, but next time you are paying for every item you have bought from me and haven’t paid for yet this month.” Yunho giggled—actually giggled and something in my stomach coiled at the warm and cute sound of it—as he grabbed our strawberry and chocolate milks, winking at the clerk.

“I won’t be coming around too soon, then, Joong.” The clerk just rolled his eyes again and grabbed for his phone from his hoodie’s pocket.

“We’ll see about that spider—I mean—spidey obsessed dude.” I laughed a little at the clerk’s words, however it quickly died down when I saw the way Yunho froze and the clerk’s eyes widened just a fraction. Sensing the sudden weird tension in the air, I cleared my throat and grabbed my chocolate milk out of Yunho’s hand.

“Thank you for your generosity—” I raised my eyebrows, not feeling it adequate to call the clerk by the nickname Yunho did.

“Hongjoong,” It was Yunho who answered though, the clerk seemed a little uncomfortable all of a sudden, “He’s a good friend of mine, so don’t worry about it.”

“Good friend of mine,” Hongjoong, the clerk, mocked with a grimace, “We’ve known each other since they day you were born, you idiot.”

“Hey, so what?!” Yunho stuck his tongue out, and before I could thank Hongjoong properly for letting me have a free strawberry milk, Yunho was gripping my arm and pulling me towards the table furthest from the front desk. In a haste, I grabbed my skateboard and grinned at Hongjoong, bowing my head a little as he blinked before offering me the smallest smile I’ve ever seen. Well, what a colourful personality this shorter guy had.

Yunho was seemingly eager to reach our table as he had plopped down into a seat just as we got to it, excitedly opening his strawberry milk, making me chuckle. I placed my own chocolate milk on the table, not noticing how close it was to the edge as I placed my skateboard on the floor, and then shrugged my jacket off. It was warm enough inside to get rid of it, and so, as I went to put my jacket on the back of my chair, I accidentally knocked my hand into my chocolate milk, sending it towards the ground. However, as I gasped and went to reach for it, Yunho’s hand was already extended, small carton held securely in his big hand. I blinked, staring at Yunho for a second before I placed the jacket on the back of the chair and took a seat opposite him.

“Thanks.” I muttered as he extended the chocolate milk towards me, only just now noticing that the nail on his left ring finger was painted a dark blue. I tried to fight the blush that threatened to bloom on my cheeks as our fingers touched, eyes trained onto the table and subsequently on Yunho’s hands as they were both resting on top of it. He wore a few black rings and his whole outfit was casual wear once again, yet it looked really well put together. As I fiddled with the lid of my chocolate milk, I tried to ignore how hot Yunho’s hand felt again, and blamed it on the fact that my hands were always cold, “You’ve got some really nice reflexes, Yunho.”

My eyebrows raised as Yunho choked on his strawberry milk, coughing a little as he hit his chest a few times, struggling to regulate his breaths again. Well—I suppose I must have said something wrong, then? However, I failed to understand what exactly that I said was—well, wrong or triggering.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yunho cleared his throat at last, chugging half of his strawberry milk down, “thank you, I—uh, I’ve always been, uh, fast?”

“Is that a question?” I asked with a chuckle, pushing the little straw inside the little bottle before I took a small sip.

“No! I—” Yunho smacked his lips together, ears red once again, “I do have good reflexes, you’re right. Not many people notice.”

“I mean,” I chuckled, smiling at him, “that’s weird since it’s so obvious.”

“It is?” Yunho asked confused, scratching the back of his head.

“A little bit.” I whispered, averting my eyes as I became shy under Yunho’s watchful gaze. He was a tiny bit intimidating, but overall, really nice—and cute, damn it.

“So,” Yunho cleared his throat, keen on changing the subject, “How do you like it here?”

I shrugged, placing my hands on the table as I started playing with my rings, “I haven’t even been here for a week yet, but—it’s fine? I suppose—I mean, it could be a lot worse.”

“Don’t like where you live?” When my eyebrows furrowed, Yunho seemed to choke a little on his strawberry milk again, “I mean—the neighbourhood! Or like—your neighbours or—something.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, finding it a little endearing how easily flustered Yunho got. In school we couldn’t talk for long as his friends would always interrupt us, boisterous and loud for no reason, “You are quite spot on with that, what gave you the hint?”

“Oh, I,” Yunho gestured around, shrugging a little, “figured since you were at the skatepark. It’s not that big nor very equipped. Others would want to go the central one, close to the big mall.”

“There’s one there too?” I quirked up in interest, “I have missed riding around, so I wasn’t in a search for a skatepark necessarily, you see, I came across this one randomly. And I’m glad I did, because I saw some really cool tricks the others were doing.”

“How long have you been skating for?” Yunho asked in interest, leaning forward, chin resting on his intertwined hands.

“Uhm,” I hummed, looking up towards the ceiling as I tried to count the years, “Ten, maybe? But I only ever skated for fun.”

“It’s a pretty cool skill and hobby to have.” Yunho grinned, eyes falling onto my skateboard as I placed my right leg on top of it, smiling at his compliment, “And I’ve also noticed that you like reading?”

“Oh,” I flushed a little, biting the straw of my chocolate milk before I took a gulp, “yeah, I really like reading—mangas.”

“Really?!” Yunho exclaimed, shouting over the smooth melody playing from the radio. I sneaked a glance towards Hongjoong, and quite frankly, wasn’t surprised to see him watching Yunho with narrowed eyes, it almost made me chuckle at how oblivious—or uncaring—Yunho was towards Hongjoong’s apparent annoyance with him.

“Really.” I chuckled, raising my eyebrows, “Why are you so excited, you also like mangas?”

“Oh, well, not me—not that I have anything against them! They are like super cool and such!” Yunho rambled on, averting his eyes as I tried to fight my amused grin off my face, “Mangas are cool, is what I’m trying to say, however, it’s my best friend that really likes them.”

“Hongjoong?” I asked interested, happy to have something to talk about with Hongjoong since I would be returning to this store as it was straight across the skatepark.

“Mingi, actually.” Yunho muttered, slumping back in his seat, “You know, our classmate.”

“Oh, Song Mingi?” Meaning, the guy that’s been staring daggers at me anytime Yunho even as much as came in my vicinity? I figured this Mingi guy wasn’t a huge a fan of me, not that I could do anything about it, really. If some people wanted to believe the rumours, I couldn’t do anything about that.

“Him, yeah,” Yunho muttered, pursing his lips, “I promise he’s not a douche even if he acts like it at times—”

“All the time.” I added with a chuckle, making Yunho look away.

“He’ll warm up to you.” He tried to cheer me up, but I just shrugged.

“And if he doesn’t, it’s fine, Yunho.” I reassured him with another smile, “It’s not like we can like everyone.”

“True, but—now that you two have something in common he will give in to you, trust me.” Yunho looked quite convinced and I just chuckled as I nodded once, taking some more sips of my chocolate milk.

“So, if Mingi and I like reading mangas, what do you like, Yunho?” I raised my eyebrows, definitely ignoring the way my heartrate picked up when an abashed smile stretched onto Yunho’s lips and he looked up through his lashes at me.

“Video games, like, a lot.” There was an excited glint in Yunho’s eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair, “I eat and breathe video games.”

I giggled and nodded as Yunho went on a short rant about his favourite video games and which were best to play if you were a beginner—like me—and which were more challenging and not too nerve-wrecking as he apparently had a problem of controlling his rage when playing video games. Which seemed so unnatural of Yunho, who was always calm and sweet, nice, and helpful to everyone. Not that I had known him for long, but the more time I spent with him, the quicker I realized that he truly is the way he portrays himself to be. I laughed as Yunho retold a story of him being so mad at losing a game that he scared his dog, which then jumped off the bed and got tangled in the wires, and almost completely destroyed Yunho’s TV. Well, I suppose Yunho learned not to rage in front of his dog after that day—if he wanted to keep his TV intact.

We had both long finished our respective drinks and as I had glanced down at my phone, I realized it was late—my mother would whoop my ass for staying out for so long. Hongjoong didn’t look too happy either as Yunho and I got ready to leave, and I threw an apologetic smile at him as Yunho stayed back for a few minutes. I stood in front of the store, waiting for Yunho, just enjoying the chilly air as the wind blew through the streets of the city.

“Okay, let’s go.” Yunho said once he joined me outside, smiling.

“Where do you live?” I asked, pushing my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

“Around.” Yunho’s answer was short and then he motioned down the sidewalk, “Let’s go, I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to!” I squeaked, growing embarrassed all of a sudden, “I don’t want to bother you. It’s already late, your parents must be worried.”

“They certainly aren’t,” Yunho chuckled, leaning down to be eye level with me, “they are out on a date tonight and they aren’t coming back until late into the night. So, let’s go.”

“Oh,” I muttered, biting my bottom lip and before I could grab my skateboard, it was already in Yunho’s hands as he skipped down the sidewalk happily. I chuckled and followed after him, having to jog to actually catch up with his long strides, “You know, Yunho, not everyone was blessed with long legs like yours.”

Yunho’s ears turned red again as he instantly slowed down, scratching his nape, “Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget I’m tall and like—super quick too.”

“You’re like the Flash or something.” I teased with a chuckle, however, Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and he was suddenly pouting.

“The Flash?” He asked, sounding almost offended, “He’s not even that cool, Y/N.”

“Is he not?” I deadpanned, raising my eyebrows at Yunho.

“He really isn’t.” Yunho huffed, cheeks puffing out even more, making him look adorable despite him sulking.

“Well then, who do you think is cool, Yunho?” I asked, genuinely interested about his opinion.

“Spiderman, of course!” He exclaimed as if that were obvious, making me scoff.

“You don’t even know who the guy is.” I muttered, as we stopped at a red light.

“Do you know who the Flash is?” Yunho’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at me, and I huffed.

“Well, no, but—I don’t know, I’m new to the city. I don’t know anything about Spiderman, of course I’m biased towards someone else.” I ended up explaining my reasoning and Yunho just hummed as the red light turned green and we crossed the road.

“Well, let me help you out, then.” Yunho grinned and suddenly grabbed my jacket, steering me away from a lamppost. I chuckled in embarrassment and thanked him quietly before he could continue talking, “So, Spiderman is like—super cool, you know? He helps the city whenever something really bad happens. He like—you know—he makes order. Puts bad people in jail and saves innocent civilians. Also! He doesn’t just save people, he helps old people cross the road, rescues poor animals living on the streets, even feeds pigeons! And I’ve seen him once cleaning the windows of a really high building since everybody else refused to go up that high. And he takes pictures with children, you know? Shows up at the city’s fair and has never once turned down an invitation from the mayor to represent the good force of the city alongside with the cops, of course.”

As Yunho took a deep breath, having rushed all that out in one breath, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, having to press a hand against my mouth to muffle the sounds. I’ve never seen Yunho as passionate about something—except for video games—before, and as hilarious he looked with his eyebrows furrowed and lips pouting every few seconds—fuck, he was just as cute—so cute in fact, that I nearly tripped over nothing, but he was too lost in his excitement to notice, thankfully. Having slightly calmed down my heart, I glanced at Yunho, amused to see him clutching my skateboard against his chest, giving me a small glare.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a chuckle, clearing my throat, “You just sound an awful lot like you have a crush on Spiderman.”

Yunho scoffed, but he couldn’t fight the smile off his lips anymore, “Everyone has a crush on Spiderman, don’t you too?”

“I don’t know him well enough to have a crush on him just yet.” Yunho’s eyes narrowed for a split second.

“Yet, you say?”

“Yet, I say.”

And then I watched as Yunho turned the corner, skipping a few steps ahead as he led the way down my street, headed towards my house. I don’t think I remember having told him about where I live?

            Yunho’s generosity seemed to be endless—and perhaps I was already starting to get used to, which, wasn’t exactly smart on my part. Yes, he was tall, handsome, boyish, and super cute with a personality of gold, but—was I sure my mother and I would actually settle down here? Was it really smart to start crushing on my classmate? Who I’m sure everyone in this damned high-school has a crush on, because he’s really just that nice and that sweet. Teachers love him, his peers admire him and want to be around him all the time, his friends are protective of him and—don’t like me, that’s now one hundred percent sure. Why? Well, because, I was just as baffled as they were this morning when upon entering the classroom, Yunho was out of his seat, completely abandoning the conversation he was having with San in order to approach me. I—of course, like a deer caught in headlights—froze in my spot, thus blocking the entrance to the classroom—making a guy almost run into me as he was on his phone, not paying attention to what was happening in front of him. But Yunho didn’t seem to mind my momentary shock as he grinned from ear to ear, his hair very fluffy as it was even wavier than yesterday, his outfit making me gulp before I managed to compose myself and force a smile onto my lips. He wore grey tech pants with a white shirt—top two butting undone—and a grey cardigan over it and—oh, he wore a fucking silver necklace at the base of his throat, that paired with his black rings for sure made me forget what planet Earth is for a second—or two—who knows, my brain wasn’t processing well at the moment.

And to render me even more speechless, Yunho draped an arm around my shoulders and completely nonchalantly veered me towards his friends. Choi San and Song Mingi. I saw the look on their faces—a mixture of surprise and well, disgust—but San was quick to mask it with a cordial smile, while Mingi—well, he didn’t, not that I expected him to do so. And then before either could say something, Yunho announced that he’d be sitting with me in our English literature class, making me stare at him in surprise—mirroring San and Mingi’s baffled expressions. Why did I have a feeling that right now I was their number one enemy? And then, to try and appease them, I bowed and muttered a quiet ‘sorry’, before Yunho was already walking us to my usual seat, making me lick my lips as I tried to ignore the sudden nerves engulfing my whole body. And what was worse, was the fact that I could feel Mingi’s glare boring into the back of my mind during the whole class, making me scared to look back when the teacher announced that we’d have to do a project with our seatmate. Which—to my delight, but poor overreactive heart—made Yunho so excited he almost knocked over my water bottle as he started animatedly explaining which book we should choose and why. Before the bell could even ring, Mingi was out the door with a loud scoff, and San was rolling his eyes as he slowly approached us, muttering something about Mingi overreacting—again.

Currently, however, we were in the canteen, trays in our hands full of food as Mingi lead the way, his form just as tall as Yunho’s, but shoulders a little broader than Yunho’s. Not that I have paid extra close attention to Yunho’s form or anything—you know. San and Yunho were having a heated debate whether the Yorkshire Terrier or Bull Terrier was cutest, making San whine about not wanting a puppy anymore because of Yunho—which was actually hilarious to hear as I saw zero to no similarities between the two breeds, except the fact that both were named Terriers.

“Just get a cat, oh, my God, San.” Mingi snapped loudly as he slammed his tray down against a table—smaller in size than the others and more at the back of the canteen—looking up with a small glare at San, “Can you two not argue for one second?”

“What’s got your panties in a twist today, Ming?” San chuckled, raising an eyebrow as I felt a little awkward while Yunho took a seat across from Mingi. San went to sit next to Yunho, and for a second, I considered excusing myself and just sitting by myself rather than having to sit next to Mingi knowing he’d rather die—or something—than sit next to me. But, to my rescue, Yunho cleared his throat and looked at San expectantly, who quickly got the memo and chuckled, “Right.”

Then he moved to sit next to Mingi and I gulped as I took my seat next to Yunho, feeling like I was intruding—which I probably was and as if Mingi had the same train of thought, he directed a quick glare at me.

“Didn’t know we’d have to mingle with others today, is all.” He answered San’s previous question and I gulped as I looked down, placing my hands in my lap.

“Okay, Mingi.” Yunho snapped, his tone harsh—and it was surprising, I’ve never heard him speak like that before, “We’re allowed to make new friends, are we not?”

Mingi scoffed and then stuffed his mouth with a spoonful of rice, “Yeah, with people who aren’t criminals.”

“Mingi, that’s enough.” It was San talking now, face hardened and eyebrows furrowed before he looked at me, expression softening, “We don’t even know her.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll just go.” I said with a sigh, about to grab my tray when suddenly Yunho’s hand grabbed mine, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at me.

“You’re not going anywhere,” He said, sounding quite authoritative and determined to keep me there, “Let’s play a game where we ignore Mingi, how’s that sound?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, I really like the sound of that.” San said with a mischievous chuckle as he nudged Mingi in the side, making him roll his eyes before he wordlessly dug into his meal, going completely silent, “And at the same time I don’t like the sound of silence, so—how do you like it here, Y/N?”

I struggled to not choke on the spoonful of soup I had just taken into my mouth, a little surprised that one of Yunho’s best friends’ was addressing me directly, “Oh, I, uhm—it’s fine. I mean…the kids are nice here. Sort of.” The last part I only added in a quiet mutter, but Mingi heard it and chuckled, giving me a smirk that felt a little bit malicious. However, his expression quickly changed as he yelped, jumping in his seat before fixating his glare onto Yunho, eyes narrowing, but Yunho just continued eating like nothing happened.

“Yeah, we…weren’t the nicest, sorry about that.” San’s cheeks tinged pink as he lowered his head a little, “I was raised to know better than to judge someone so easily, so, I’d like to apologise.”

My eyes widened when San raised his head, eyes shining with sincerity and regret. I suddenly felt awkward—well, my day certainly was taking a turn for the—better? I couldn’t tell just yet. I chuckled, shaking my head as I tried to play off San’s apology, it wasn’t that big of a deal, really, “Don’t worry about it, I get it. But for the record—I have zero DNA that ties me to that evil fucker, in fact, I played the biggest part in his case as I had been victim to his—abuse.”

A tense silence fell upon the table and suddenly I gulped, feeling terrible for trauma dumping so much on these three guys. Well, if they thought they could end up liking me up until a few seconds ago, the certainly wouldn’t think so anymore. What a way to ruin something going well for myself for once. I cleared my throat, and averted my eyes when Mingi raised his head, his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes taking me in intensely. Yunho’s body emitted a lot of warmth next to me all of a sudden, and he sighed loudly, shooting a very displeased look towards his two friends, “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to force you to share anything you didn’t want—”

“I wanted you to know, though.” I found myself saying, biting my bottom lip nervously, “I don’t exactly care what the rumours say about me, but I feel angry when I hear people associate me with that monster. He’s a terrible man and he deserves to be locked up somewhere far away from society. He’s not my father and he would’ve never been, even if my mother did end up marrying him.”

“You’re really mature for someone our age.” San commented, lips stretched into a warm and friendly smile, “Not that we aren’t mature! Actually! I am the most mature one in our friend group, you know—”

“Like hell you are.” Mingi muttered before he averted his eyes, going back to eating his lunch.

“I am always the responsible one, looking out for these two idiots—” But San ignored Mingi and then pointed at the two tall best friends, “These two are always wreaking havoc, especially Yunho! He’s all sweet and so kind, but he’s really just hiding his mischievous side. One time, in eight grade, he broke our homeroom teacher car’s windshield and—”

“Okay, enough oversharing, San!” Yunho exclaimed alarmed, crossing his arms in front of his chest in an ‘X’ manner, making me laugh as I looked at him then back at San, who had his lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“Remember Mingi, when he stole that manga for you from the corner bookstore?” San smirked, nudging Mingi lightly, who had a frighteningly similar smirk to San’s crossing his features as he looked up.

“Oh, I do. And remember when he absolutely destroyed Mrs. Kwan’s garden while riding his bike?”

“Enough, okay?!” Yunho exclaimed, his neck, ears, and cheeks flushed a deep red, eyebrows furrowed. I pressed a palm against my mouth, trying to muffle my bubbling laughter, but when San and Mingi simultaneously wiggled their eyebrows at Yunho, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I burst out laughing, slowly San—and surprisingly—Mingi joined us too while Yunho sulked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“It’s not funny!” He exclaimed, grabbing a chicken wing with his hand and biting into it, staring off to the side.

“Oh, this guy was an absolute rascal when we were younger.” Mingi said, still laughing as he threw a pickle towards Yunho, who frowned at him and quickly ate it. I chuckled, amused by the three. Okay, if they weren’t glaring and sending me displeased looks, San and Mingi could be really cool guys.

“Now I see why you’re so obsessed with Spiderman.” I said with a chuckle, grinning at Yunho as I turned my head to look at him. His cheeks were still red and his lips jutting out, he looked so adorable it was hard to hold myself back from squishing his cheeks. San’s laughter, however, very slowly died down and Mingi—surprisingly—choked on the bite he just took of his meal, having to grab his water bottle and drink in order soothe his coughs, “He’s everything you weren’t. Having him as a role model might turn you into a better man.”

“Hey!” Yunho scoffed, playfully pushing my shoulder, sending a very non-threatening glare at me, “Spiderman is just simply cool, okay? I don’t have a crush on him or anything, I just—are you saying I’m not a good person?”

“What?!” I asked alarmed, completely oblivious to the amused glances San and Mingi were exchanging between each other as Yunho narrowed his eyes at me, “I never said that! You’re—cool.”

“Like Spiderman.” Yunho added with a wink and I scoffed, going back to eating my—now—cold soup.

“I see you are acquittanced with Spiderman, then.” San mused, finally eating his meal as well, it must’ve gone cold by now. I nodded as I finished eating my soup, sneaking glances at Yunho as his attention suddenly was on the TV mounted on the wall a few feet away. His eyebrows were furrowed and so, I looked to see what was bothering him, only to be met with a pretty bad looking bank robbery. A dozen of police cars were in front of the bank and—oh, no, an armed man held someone at gunpoint. The sound was muted, but I could guess that the armed man was holding an innocent by-passer. It brought a sour taste into my mouth as I averted my eyes, skin crawling a little at the memory of my mother’s ex doing something similar, yet so much worse. Mingi and San seemed to notice Yunho’s shift in mood and both turned to look at the TV, sighing when they saw what Yunho was looking at.

“I swear to God,” Mingi started muttering, turning his head away, “There’s always something fucked up happening every other day in this city…”

“I know,” San muttered, crestfallen, “I can’t count how many times my parents planned on moving away somewhere safer.”

I gulped, hoping my mother wouldn’t want to do the same. We’ve barely been here for five days, but—I started liking it here. There was something about this place that wasn’t as awful as I initially expected it to be. Did Yunho play a part in that to make me think so?

“Hey, I—I have to go to the washroom, don’t wait for me.” Yunho sounded nervous as he scrambled out of his seat, gulping as he paused for a second, “I’ll see you all in class.”

“Are you okay?” I found myself asking before Yunho could rush off.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me!” His smile seemed forced and my eyebrows furrowed as he hurried away, towards the exit of the canteen, sprinting out of sight. My eyes went back to the TV just in time to see everyone crouched down as the armed man, no doubt, fired some shots.

“Hey, you don’t have to look at that.” San offered, voice soft, “We can change seats, if you want.”

“Oh—no, thank you.” My cheeks turned red as I averted my eyes, offering San a small smile, “And uh—thanks for letting me sit with you guys, I know you don’t like me much.”

“Well, we’ve got all year to get to know each other, right, Mingi?” San threw a pointed look at his best friend and I was surprised to find him humming absentmindedly, pushing around his food.

“He always does this,” Mingi sighed, sounding worried, “disappears randomly whenever something bad is happening in the city.”

“Yunho?” I found myself asking in a whisper, but neither heard me.

“I told you so many times you’re reading too much into it, he just probably needs to take a dump or something—” San paused, cheeks flushing as he eyed me, but I acted like I didn’t hear what he had just said. Boys will be boys, I guess, “Anyways, break ends in fifteen, let’s finish up.”

So then, Yunho disappears often? Is that what Mingi was alluding to? But where to? And why only when something bad is happening in the city?

“Yeah, whatever.” Mingi muttered, pushing his tray of food away, knocking it into Yunho’s. He eyed his best friend’s tray and then sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes went back to the TV. And because I couldn’t help myself, I looked back too and—there he was, Spiderman. Saving the day, apparently. I guess he really is a hero.

“Hey, Y/N,” San spoke up again, mouth stuffed with food, cheeks puffed out, “I’ve seen you reading manga in class. Mingi likes it too, did you know?”

My eyes widened as I turned my head back towards the two boys sitting across me and chuckled, a little embarrassed, I wasn’t a good liar, “Oh, I, uh, nope. I didn’t know. Wow, that’s so…cool!”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, looking suspicious, “Yeah, cool.”

“Yup, cool.” I chuckled and then shut up because I didn’t want to further embarrass myself.

            And after we went to class, with Mingi sitting in the back with a rather gruff classmate of ours and San at the front with a guy I haven’t yet met, I got soon lost in my thoughts, eyes fixated on a vacant spot. Yunho’s usual spot. He hadn’t returned to class; half an hour had passed since he had gone to the washroom—that is if I actually believed he was at the washroom. It was less likely, but then again, why would he lie? And just as if my thoughts were synchronized with Yunho’s actions, the door was flung open and there he was, breathless, as he made his way inside.

“Sorry for being late!” He apologizes, plastering on a sheepish smile, “I—got caught up?”

The teacher narrowed her eyes for a second before muttering something and ushering Yunho towards his spot. I kept my eyes on him, taking him in as his clothes looked a little dishevelled and—was that a faint bruise on his cheek? But before I could dwell more about it, Yunho—probably having sensed my insistent stare—turned his head and smiled widely, his wavy hair falling in his chocolate brown eyes. My heart skipped a beat—stupid heart! And then, Yunho waved quickly and turned around before the teacher could chastise him for that too. God, why did he have to be so damn cute all the time?!

            The first week in the big, new, city was slightly unnerving and overall, a very new feeling, however, despite that, I found myself enjoying it once I got accustomed to my surroundings. Of course, my mom won’t let me out after six o’clock in the afternoon due to the unsafety of the neighbourhood we live in, but the skatepark just two blocks down certainly is a nice stress reliever. School wasn’t too bad by the second week either, less people paid attention to me and whispered about me when I passed them in the hallways, and—besides the fact that Yunho seems to never want to stay away from me for too long—which is freaking cute and certainly so very bad as I have the fattest crush on him—by now, even San and Mingi have started warming up to me. Of course, Mingi still remains his unimpressed and emotionless self—unless Yunho is there with us—but I did manage to make him crack a smile here and there—mostly when we are talking about our favourite mangas and such. San, on the other hand, is a completely different story. After Yunho left me with him and Mingi in the canteen—you know, when he mysteriously disappeared for half an hour while there was a bank robbery going on—ever since then, San has been very happy each time the boys would hang out with me. And what was even more surprising, is that he sought out my company when he was on his own—mostly bored—and so very eager to tell me every and each cool story he manages to remember about Yunho, or himself, sometimes even Mingi. San is actually quite good at diffusing the tension created by Mingi, and he is even better at talking for hours on end without realising that Yunho—and I—have gotten tired of hearing his voice so often. But do not misunderstand, Yunho absolutely adores San, and I also happen to quite like him. He’s sweet, but fierce and unapologetically honest. Much like Mingi, which makes me think they are Yunho’s closest friends because he is too nice for his own good and would get taken advantage of if it weren’t for the two hounding him like some sort of guardians or something.  

As I clutched my phone in my left hand, rolling a pencil around in my right one, I froze for a second as I heard footsteps outside of my room, down the hallway. My door was closed as I was studying—well, actually, it’s just an excuse to be able to be on my phone without my mother seeing me every time she passes by my room. However, I halted my movements as shuffling came from right outside my door, and I panickedly tried to hide my phone underneath the two textbooks and three notebooks I had laying on my desk, pretending to be super confused about the equation I had to solve, as I started pouting just as my mother opened my door.

“Hey,” She called with a smile, making me put on my best clueless act, “how’s studying going?”

“Ugh, I hate maths.” I groaned and threw my pencil on the desk as I leaned back in my seat, “Can’t I just go to the skatepark? Please, mom.”

“Honey,” My mother chuckled, leaning against the doorway with an amused grin on her lips, “that skatepark isn’t going anywhere, however, if you fail your maths class…you might have to transfer to a new school—”

“No!” I didn’t mean to shout as I shoot up straight in my chair, blushing furiously as my mother raised her eyebrows at me. God dammit, this stupid crush I have on Yunho has me acting up—even though changing high-schools does sound awful. I’ve barely been at this one for two weeks, I can’t be changing schools so soon.

“Well, if you don’t want to fail, you know what to do.” My mother said with a chuckle as I tried to hide my blush. My eyes widened when my phone started buzzing underneath all the notebooks and textbooks. God, Yunho, texting back right now isn’t the smartest idea! But of course, he can’t know that my mother is standing in my doorway, under the impression that her daughter it studying her ass off, “Dinner’s ready in an hour.”

“Cool, I’ll join you once I’ve finished this exercise.” I shot my mom a quick smile, trying not to grimace as my phone buzzed again.

“Sure,” She snorted and pushed off the doorway, gripping the doorknob as she stepped out in the hallway, “giving me your phone would make you more productive, though.”

“What phone?” I forced on a grin that showed off all my teeth, making my mother shake her head at me as she left the room, closing my door behind her. I slumped in my chair and reached for my phone, clumsily pulling it out from underneath all of my things while creating a mess—nothing new—my room is always a mess, especially my desk. But as I went to check the messages Yunho had sent, there was a soft tapping against my window, and when I turned my head to look outside—I almost screamed.

I managed to just barely muffle it by pressing my hand against my gaping mouth as freaking Spiderman hung upside down outside my window, head tilted to the side. I took a second to digest the fact that the spider, but human like, creature was right there, waving at me and no doubt smiling as I saw the mask move underneath where his mouth is. I huffed and stood, patting my chest as my heart raced furiously against my ribcage, having been scared shitless by this Spiderman guy. I unlocked the window and pushed it upwards, opening it up for him. I watched as the web string he had hung on broke as he did a flip, landing on his two long feet. I froze a little as Spiderman leaned in, resting both elbows in the windowsill, placing his chin on his palm.

“Hi.” His voice was slightly altered again, and I cleared my throat, aware that I was wearing my worst possible clothes. I wasn’t expecting visitors—let alone Spiderman, “You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

“Well, yeah,” I scoffed, smoothing down my hair, “not a ghost, but a man that calls himself a spider. Ringing the front door next time would be less heart attack inducing, Mr. Spiderman.”

I didn’t expect the dude to laugh loudly, and my eyes widened as I reached forward, pressing my hand against his masked mouth to muffle the sounds he made—if my mother hears him, she’ll come to investigate, and I’m pretty sure she won’t be too happy to find a masked man in a full body costume outside my window, claiming to be some sort of hero of the city or something. My mother has never liked these superhero kind of things.

“Yeah, don’t call me Mr. Spiderman, please, it’s really cringey.” The spidey boy shivered and I chuckled, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Why? Aren’t you a man? Why would you call yourself Spiderman if you’re not a man?” The guy remained silent for a second before he started giggling, the voice modulator not doing a very good job at altering his voice. And for a second—but just for a second—I thought it sounded like Yunho’s giggles.

“I’m a man, well…almost a man.” Spiderman paused and I gave him a confused look, “I’m only eighteen, so not quite a man just yet.”

“You’re eighteen?!” I exclaimed, glancing back to make sure my mother wouldn’t come in like a bulldozer.

“Too old for you?” Spiderman asked with a chuckle, and I narrowed my eyes at him. I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“You’re the same age as me, dipshit.” I scoffed, leaning away from the window.

“Well, that’s certainly a special way to express your gratitude to the man that’s saved you once.” I bit my bottom lip, averting my eyes from the guy that was standing outside my window.

“So, do you stalk every person you manage to save?” I instead asked, trying to dodge the fact that I should be apologising for the not so nice thing I called him.

“I’m not stalking you.” He chuckled, and then pushed himself away from the windowsill, “I’m just here to make sure you’re okay—and that you’re doing your maths homework—”

“Hey!” My eyes widened as I quickly glanced at my desk, “Were you eavesdropping too?”

“Maybe?” Spiderman sounded almost embarrassed as he scratched the back of his neck, and I narrowed my eyes at him as I scoffed.

“Well, spidey boy, as you can see, I am doing just fine.” I raised my arms and did a mocking twirl for him, then placed my hands on my hips as I gave him a deadpanned look, “Anything else that I can satisfy your creepy needs with?”

“I’m not creepy!” He exclaimed quickly, making me scoff, “Okay, fine, whatever. Coming to your window maybe wasn’t very smart, but I—uh, well, do you trust me?”

“No?” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him as if he were crazy. Spiderman heaved a loud and long sigh and then extended a hand towards me, through the open window. I crooked an eyebrow at him curiously.

“I want to show you something.” His voice was soft, the voice modulator failed to do its job again, and I found his voice to be—soothing, warm. I gulped, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “I promise you’re safe with me. I saved you once, and I’ll do it as many times I have to.”

“That very weirdly sounds like it could be a love confession, Spiderman.” I said mockingly, but found my legs carrying me closer towards him. I glanced down at my phone to check the clock, and was surprised to see that in half an hour it would be six, “My curfew is at six, though, because of the neighbourhood and my mother not trusting the people yadda-yadda-yadda, so, we have to be back before six.”

“Yeah, that’s totally cool!” Spiderman clapped his hands together, sounding very excited. I chuckled and threw my phone on my bed, chewing my on my bottom lip when I realized I still haven’t texted Yunho back. I shouldn’t make him wait— “Are you coming, then?”

I looked back at Spiderman and took a deep breath—I’m sure Yunho will understand why I didn’t text back right away, I mean, I’m literally about to be kidnapped by Spiderman or whatever—okay, I do hope it’s not actually a kidnapping.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I accepted his extended hand, finding his costume soft to the touch. The white stripes that created the illusion of web on his costume were rougher to the touch, and I tried not to stumble as I climbed through my window, closing it so it wouldn’t look like I had climbed through it. Not that it would matter, if my mother comes inside my room while I’m not here, she’ll call the police in milliseconds.

“It’s a surprise.” Spiderman said cheekily, and his weird black eye winked at me, making me give him a disgusted look, “What?”

“Your eyes are—freaky.” I muttered as I released his hand, patting my clothes down. I adjusted the flannel shirt around my shoulders as they threatened to slip down them.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N—” Spiderman froze and I did too as we stood staring at each other in silence. Well, I have never told him my name before. Just like I hadn’t told Yunho where I lived when he walked me home the first time from the skatepark.

“It seems like you’re full of surprises too, Spiderman.” I pursed my lips and he cleared his throat, scratching his nape, no doubt feeling awkward.

“Anyways, let’s go.” He extended his hand once again and I chewed on my bottom lip as I weighted my options. To be fair, there’s only two outcomes to this if I leave with him right now. One, he shows me this super awesome surprise, and it’ll be a memory to hold onto. Two, he fucking murders me.

I took a tiny step forward and slipped my hand slowly in his, just now noticing how long and thin his fingers were as they were covered by the red fabric of his costume. I truly hope to God the second option I have in mind doesn’t come to fruition. I might be dead as fuck, but my mother will make sure to kill me twice!

“So, uhm, you, uh, have to hold onto me.” Spiderman was suddenly stammering all over himself, and I narrowed my eyes as I stepped a little closer, allowing this spider boy to sloth his fingers through mine, “Yeah, you have to come a lot closer, actually.”

“Does this usually work?” I asked, stepping in front of him, barely a few inches between us. Jesus Christ, this dude is super tall?! I have to crane my neck to look up at him; his height scarily reminds me of Yunho’s. Not that I have had the chance to stand this close to Yunho before, but his and Mingi’s heights can be quite intimidating at times—especially if Mingi is glaring at you, looking like he wishes your soul would perish right in front of his very eyes. Not cool, nor fun!

“What’s supposed to work?” Spiderman asked, sounding confused.

“Well, this is how you pick up girls, no?” I raised my eyebrows, and I swear to God, Spiderman sputtered for a second.

“No! I—I’ve never done this before!” A small pause, and then more stammering, “I mean—I have! Like, wait, not picking up girls—I’m not doing this to pick you up! However, the thing I’m about to do, yeah, I do it every time I have the suit on. It would be concerning if I didn’t, actually.”

“I’m confused.” I muttered, staring at Spiderman’s broad chest. Jesus, this guy is well doted, alright.

“Whatever, just—hold onto me, tightly.” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked up at Spiderman, only to find him already looking down at me. I sighed and took a second to figure out how to hold onto him while also keeping my distance, and so, I grabbed his shoulders with both hands, gripping it tightly. Spiderman didn’t move just yet, but then I felt his left arm around my middle, pulling me into his body. I tensed and tried to ignore the way my heart started beating fast, a little bit surprised by how warm spidey boy felt against my own body.

And then, without zero fucking preparation, Spiderman released—better said, shot—web from his right wrist—God, I really hope this dude doesn’t actually release these things from his body—and I followed with my eyes the trajectory of the web. And then, I gulped, mouth falling open quickly as Spiderman tested the durability of the web by tugging on it a few times, and then, he threw me a quick glance before he jumped. He jumped up and then—he never fucking made it back to the ground. We didn’t make it back to the ground! I gasped loudly as Spiderman’s arm tightened even more around my middle, our bodies swinging in the fucking air.

And to be fair, if spider boy loses his hearing, it’s not my fault. I didn’t even realize I had started shrieking as Spiderman shot another web from his wrist—ew—the one currently holding us snapping in two, falling to the ground. Consequently, we were free-falling in the air for a second, until our bodies were violently yanked forward again, Spiderman’s web finding the wall of another building. And I was still shrieking—right into his ear—to make matters better.

Spiderman’s hearing after our little escapade? Positively gone.

But hearing his quiet giggle somehow helped in making me shut up after another long minute of me screaming my ass off, heart hammering wildly against my chest. This was not fun! I wanted to go back home! I wanted to—oh, no. I instantly felt nauseous as I made the grave mistake of looking down past Spiderman’s shoulders, coming to the realization that we were up in the air—high up in the air! And I have Acrophobia! I squeaked like a helpless mouse as suddenly I started sweating profusely, fingers digging into Spiderman’s shoulders until I found my arms slipping further up, circling his neck as I clung onto him tightly, our bodies pressed together almost painfully tight. My hands shook as I forced my legs to raise and wrap around his waist, hooking them together behind his ass, squeezing the living shit out of his hips with my thighs. This wasn’t fun! I wasn’t enjoying this! I really really don’t like this surprise and I want to go home right now! On the ground! On my feet! Where it’s safe and I won’t be falling to my death—oh God, stop thinking about that right now!

“I have Acrophobia, you dipshit!” I found myself screaming over the wind blowing in our faces, the sounds of the city underneath us loud and making me squeeze my eyes shut as freaking birds started flying next to us. What the fuck!?

“Oh, fuck.” I heard Spiderman hiss to himself and I wanted to say, ‘yeah, oh fuck, you idiot!’, but I was frozen from fear, and couldn’t help but scream as the feeling of falling down returned, fingers—probably painfully—digging into the back of Spiderman’s head. I hope I yank on his baby hair strong enough to have him squirming in pain—wait, maybe that’s not so smart while we’re literally swinging around above the city and clinging onto some magic web or something! For a second, there was the feeling of free falling again, and then—nothing. The wind wasn’t blowing in our faces anymore, and we weren’t swinging left to right anymore either. Everything stood still around us, cars honking loudly underneath us, and rap music blasting from somewhere—we weren’t dead, right?!

I came to realize my breathing was ragged—now that we were stationary and I could actually think—and that my arms and hands were shaking uncontrollably, my whole body flushed against Spiderman’s as if I wished to become one with him. If that’s what keeps me alive while we swing above the city, we better morph into one person or something! I was too scared to open my eyes, and my muscles tensed even more when I felt two big hands run up and down my back.

“Hey, we’ve landed. You’re not in the air anymore, Y/N.” Spiderman spoke softly, and I felt him turn his head, but I only lowered mine and pressed it against his suited neck. I heard him release a small gasp as I gulped hard, trying to calm my nerves, and fight off a panic attack, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were scared of heights.”

“I need a second.” I found my voice as I croaked that out, trying to flex my fingers as they started cramping by how hard I was holding onto Spiderman.

“I can give you three more, if that’s what you need.” I felt Spiderman’s fingers tangle into my untamed hair as he tried to smooth down the wild strands, and I felt my cheeks flush. God, that’s embarrassing now.

“What I need—” I snapped, managing to detach myself from his neck finally, “is to kick your loser ass!”

And then I pried myself off his body and pulled my right fist back to swing it at his bicep. However, to my dismay, he didn’t even as much as flinch, only snorted, “I’ll break your nose if you laugh at me again! I literally have a phobia of heights and you go on and take me on a swing or whatever above the freaking city?! I’m going home—you’ve got to be kidding me.”

But finally taking a look around, realising the whereabouts of our location, I realized Spiderman landed us on a rooftop of a freaking tall building. I swung my fist at his chest this time, “Hey, hey, sorry, I didn’t know! Stop hitting me, Y/N, it tickles—”

“Tickles?!” I exclaimed and gave him a furious look as Spiderman awkwardly scrapped at his nape, angling his head downwards, “I just told you I almost died in your arms, and you tell me my punches tickle?!”

“No, no,” Spiderman suddenly rolled back his shoulders, clutching the bicep I’ve punched a minute ago, “your punches are so strong it could take down even Dr Octopus! I can’t feel my arm anymore.”

“Take down who?” My eyebrows furrowed as I stared at Spiderman, watching his fake act of being hurt as he clutched his arm as if it was about to fall off. Now he was just plainly mocking me.

“Nevermind—I’m sorry, I should have asked if you had a fear of heights first, before I took you here.” Spiderman mumbled as he scratched the back of his head, shuffling on his feet.

“Yeah, uhm, so, what are we doing here?” I asked as I circled my arms around my middle.

“Well, I wanted to show you the view but that’s not possible anymore.” He answered with a sigh, and he sounded quite defeated. I licked my lips and made sure to keep my eyes on the rooftop’s ground instead of looking around. I would pass out surely, and my hands are still trembling, my heart beating fast.

“Is this spot significant or something?” I mumbled as I kicked at nothing in particular.

“Yeah, when I’m stressed or worried, I come here to clear my mind.” Spiderman answered, walking to the edge of the rooftop. My heart did a somersault until I remembered literally nothing can happen to him, he sticks to things like a real spider—freaky.

“So, what’s got your stressed or worried right now?” I found myself asking as I crouched down, a little nauseated when Spiderman leaned over the edge, staring down at the bustling city underneath us. The people on the streets, the honking cars and music coming from down the street created a disturbing cacophony up here, but down there, it never sounded this messy.

“Nothing, I just wished to show you this place.”

“Why?” I asked as I looked up, finding him already looking at me. His eyes blinked, a feature of his mask I wished he didn’t have. It was weird, I didn’t like it.

“No particular reason.” Spiderman answered after he cleared his throat, however it didn’t sound sincere. He averted his eyes as he turned around and sat down on the ledge, swinging his legs over. I inhaled sharply, palms balling up into fists at his actions. I had to remind himself that he literally can’t die even if the wind pushes him over. Me—on the other hand—can and would one hundred percent die. And so, I found myself on my knees and hands as I slowly crawled towards him, trying to regulate my breaths as my heart started hammering in my chest again. As Spiderman heard movement, he tuned his head abruptly.

“What are you doing?” He sounded amused as he asked, looking down at me with his freaky blinking black mask eyes.

“I’m joining you without actually joining you.” I muttered as I reached the ledge, thankfully the brick wall reached up to one’s waist and I couldn’t see down as I sat down, turning my back to the ledge, and leaning against the cold structure. Spiderman’s eyes remained on me as I hugged my knees to my chest before I looked up at him, “Well, I’m sure the view is pretty.”

“Yeah, it is.” He whispered; eyes boring into mine. I gulped, something stirring in my stomach. I seriously am not about to develop a stupid crush on Spiderman too, right?! That would be freaking embarrassing. I already have a crush on Yunho and it’s more than enough—in fact, it’s fucking mortifying, because how am I supposed to act normal when I’m around him, and all I want to do is get lost in his beautiful chocolate brown eyes and listen to his soft voice all day long while demanding him to engulf me in his warm arms, swallow me up against his broad chest?! I have to stop thinking about Yunho right now—or whenever I feel my mind slipping into delusion land.

“So, Spiderman, what’s your story?” I raised my eyebrows at him, chuckling as Yunho came to mind again despite my efforts, “I have a friend who’s in love with you—”

“He’s not—” Spiderman cleared his throat, patting his chest, “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Right,” I narrowed my eyes at the guy and he swiftly turned his head away, looking down at the city, “so, I have this friend who really likes you—even has a Spiderman phone case—and I’m just curious to hear your story. You know, from someone who’s not a die-hard fan and sugarcoats things.”

“There’s no big story, to be honest.” Spiderman shrugged, fiddling with his fingers in his lap—Yunho often does that when he’s nervous, “I try to keep the order in the city and help the innocent, and those in need. It took the police some time until they started trusting me and liking me, but things aren’t as chaotic as they were before.”

“But, wait.” My eyebrows furrowed as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “If you’re eighteen now, for how long have you been Spiderman? Assuming that you weren’t born like this…?”

“It’s almost scary how much you know about me.” Spiderman teased and I huffed, rolling my eyes, “I’ve been Spiderman ever since I turned sixteen.”

“Wow.” I muttered, looking back up at the guy. He’s been putting his life on the line for two years now, that’s really selfless. Perhaps I can see why Yunho admires him so much, “Are you ever scared? That you’ll get really hurt or something. Does anyone know your real identity?”

“Yes, I do get scared, and yes, the guy who I grew up with knows about my identity.” The guy answered, placing his hands on both sides of his thighs as he started swinging his legs, “I can’t tell many people though, and that was really hard at the beginning. I hate lying, can’t lie well either if I’m being honest, and it just feels wrong to keep secrets from the people closest to me. However, it ensures their safety, so, at the same time I don’t mind keeping it from them.”

“For an eighteen-year-old dude,” I chuckled, leaning my head back against the brick wall, “you are quite mature.”

“Well, when you chase and fight criminals daily, you are forced to mature early.”

“Did you want to become like this? Turn into Spiderman?”

“No, my high-school was visiting a lab and a spider that was genetically mutated bit me.” Spiderman’s voice was quiet, and he sighed loudly soon after, “In case you’re wondering, I don’t regret it. I love being Spiderman even if at times I have to bring sacrifices.”

“Yeah, that’s unpleasant.” I muttered, resting my chin on my knees. I knew what it meant to bring sacrifices for those you loved, and it almost always wasn’t by your choice, but something you just had to do. Ugh, not me suddenly turning bitter and nostalgic. Spiderman coughed shortly, and I felt fingers in my hair. I tensed for a second, but then his long fingers were out of my hair the following second.

“You had a bug in your hair.” Spiderman explained and I hummed, turning my head to rest my right cheek on my knees so that I could look up at him, “What about you, Y/N, what’s your story?”

I chuckled, averting my eyes as I pursed my lips, “It’s not as noble as yours, that’s for sure, spidey boy.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, there’s just my mom and I around, and we’ve moved to the city two weeks ago.” I sighed, closing my eyes as the evening breeze picked up, it wasn’t warm, but at least it wasn’t too cold just yet, “My father abandoned us a month before I was born, so my mom raised me up all alone with her mother’s help sometimes. She had her fair share of questionable partners, but they were never as evil as her last ex-fiancé.

“The guy was a criminal, he murdered three people and then tried to blame it on being so crazily in love with my mother that he wasn’t completely sane anymore. It was fucking comical; I hate that piece of shit. He’s threatened me numerous times and would throw me around the house when mom wasn’t around, saying how I’d end up six feet under if I didn’t keep my mouth shut about it.

“He never liked me for some reason, always claimed my mom focused more on me than on him—the fucking idiot. He has hit me a few times, and once my mother finally noticed, she tried to leave him, but he threatened to kill us. It was crazy, absolute madness, trying to get away from him—until the police came knocking on our door one night, claiming that they were there to arrest my mom’s ex for murder. The whole town was freaking shook, us included.”

Well, and that’s on trauma dumping, I guess. But he asked, after all, and I just told Mr. Spidey my story. It felt nice letting someone know about my past, however, it didn’t exactly feel right that I said all that to a stranger. I always thought Yunho would be the first person to find out about the whole story behind our recent move.

I gulped, feeling slightly guilty for having told all that to Spiderman, and I jumped when I felt fingers touching my cheek. I blinked my eyes open, finding Spiderman on his knees as he was leaned over, down towards me, fingers gently pressing against my cheek, “Nothing like that will ever again happen to you, Y/N, I promise. As long as I live, I promise to protect you.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I raised my head up from my knees, Spiderman’s warm hand cupping my face, “You don’t even know me, Spiderman.”

“I know enough.” He whispered and I gulped, heart beating fast as we gazed into each other’s eyes, his black mask unblinking for once. My lips parted and I shivered as the breeze turned stronger, Spiderman’s thumb gently rubbing my chin. It felt like I couldn’t look away, like the gap was slowly closing between us—until an alarm went off blaring, making both of us jump. Spiderman was up on his feet in a second, looking down at his wrist watch.

“Well, your curfew starts in ten minutes.” His voice was a little hoarse and he quickly cleared his throat, “We should head back if we don’t want your mom freaking out.”

“I’m not swinging around in your arms above the city again, Spidey!” I snapped, giving him a pointed glare as he jumped off the ledge, crouching down in front of me.

“The closest station is a five-minute walk away from here and the bus won’t come for another ten minutes. If I count correctly, that’s past your curfew, and there’s no direct bus to your neighbourhood from here.” Spiderman sounded smug as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Where even are we?”

“The east end of the city—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. That’s a fourteen-minute ride by bus! My mom is so going to kill me tonight.

“Just hold on tight, and I promise not to drop you—”

“That’s not funny!” I snapped as I shakily stood, glaring at Spiderman. But he just chuckled, clearly amused.

“You were like a koala when we came here, it was cute.”

“Shut up.” I grumbled, trying to ignore the way my cheeks flushed when Spiderman opened his arms for me. This is the first and last time he carries me around the city like this.

            Spiderman didn’t show up again at my window to whisk me away for a—swing? —maybe he was just too embarrassed to show his face again. Well, masked face. Admittedly, there’s been only three days since I was visited by the superhero, randomly on a Tuesday afternoon, and trust for me to brag all about it to Yunho. Not that I was mocking him—maybe a little bit—about getting to meet his superhero in person before he did, it’s just that it was funny seeing his reactions as I retold everything to him. He seemed to be even more excited when he heard it in person, as I had called him the second I got home from the outing. Now, school was finally over and I could go home and sleep. The city was buzzing with life last night and the police raided our street around midnight, talk about a man having escaped form an asylum spread around fast. Apparently, the man had been hiding in the basement of one of my neighbour’s houses’. Creepy. Spiderman, surprisingly, didn’t show up, but I suppose it wasn’t necessarily an emergency as it wasn’t a very dangerous person. Besides, I think Spiderman also needs his beauty sleep—like us, mere mortals do.

I stretched as we walked through the gates of the high-school, greeting the groundkeeper as he shot us a look since San was cackling loudly as he watched a video on his phone, volume cranked up to the maximum. Mingi had his arm thrown around Yunho’s shoulders, lips pursed as he watched some younger girls run past them while giggling and shooting them stares.

“Do you think Bomi will finally ask me out?” Mingi mused quietly, turning his head to stare at the long-haired girl that had just passed by with her friends.

“Don’t know, have you finally spoken to each other?” Yunho raised his eyebrows at his best friend, expertly grabbing the strap of my backpack as he halted my steps, yanking me backwards and out of the way of a speeding bike.

“Jesus.” I hissed, clutching my skateboard to my chest, “What an idiot—”

“Hey, watch it, you!” San shouted after the guy, who was already at the end of the street, “You could run over someone!”

“Nice reflexes.” Mingi teased, and detached himself from his friend at last. I gulped and turned to thank Yunho; my cheeks flushed pink. Well, that was embarrassing, but it could’ve ended a lot worse.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Yunho’s smile was soft and warm, and I gulped, averting my eyes quickly. But fucking hell, Mingi and I made eye contact, and he narrowed his eyes at me. That dude is onto something and I don’t like how easily he can see right through me.

“We haven’t spoken to each other yet…” Mingi casually continued the conversation he was having with Yunho, deep voice trailing off.

San chuckled amused, finally stopping the video on his phone as he raised his head, “Well, then, what are you expecting? She won’t ask you out if you don’t talk to her—wait, why are you sure she’s into you? She could be into me, or even Yunho.”

I pursed my lips, totally not feeling jealous over the fact that other living people could have a crush on Yunho! And let’s be real, who the hell wouldn’t have a crush on freaking Yunho?! He’s basically—perfect!

“You underestimate my awesomeness, San.” Mingi huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “And she’s not into you, you’re too short.”

“Hey, I’m not short!” San exclaimed offended, then looked at me with round eyes, “I’m not short, right?!”

“Of course not.” I chuckled, smiling at him, “It’s Mingi who’s too tall.”

“Says the midget.” Mingi scoffed, throwing me a glare. Will this dude ever like me?

“Okay, let’s stop shaming each other for our heights—or anything else, actually.” Yunho, always the peacemaker, grinned as he squeezed Mingi’s shoulder once, and then draped his long arm around my own shoulders, making my heart somersault in my chest.

“We’ll talk about this more later,” San said, eyes narrowed, “I have to catch my bus now, see ya!”

And with a wave, he ran off, totally in the complete opposite of where his bus stop was. I watched on as he caught up with a guy from our class, I have finally learned his name—Jung Wooyoung—and the two hugged briefly as San grabbed the guy’s arm and started yanking him towards the metro station. Yeah, they certainly weren’t headed home.

“Are you coming over?” I focused back on the two tall best friends, Mingi’s voice quiet as he looked at Yunho. I knew the offer didn’t stand for me as well, Mingi would never invite me over to his place.

“Not today.” Yunho had an apologetic look on his face, and then he squeezed my shoulder, “I’ve got something else to do.”

“Asshole,” Mingi whispered with a pout as a black car pulled up next to us, “see you two tomorrow, then.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you know I love you.” Yunho managed to ruffle Mingi’s hair before he got in the car, making Mingi scoff as a smile blossomed on his face.

“Yeah, whatever, love you too.” And then he opened the door and sat inside, but he didn’t close the door until the threw me a look that made me gulp. What did I do to make this guy dislike me so much?! At this point, I have given up, there’s no point in trying to decipher the riddle that Song Mingi is.

Suddenly, super aware that Yunho and I were alone now as the black car drove off, I gulped and clutched my skateboard just a little tighter. I took a peek at Yunho, and he was already looking down at me with a small smile, “So, do you want to go home right away?”

“Depends, why?” I asked quietly, praying to God my face wouldn’t turn into a tomato as Yunho slightly leaned down, closer to my face.

“There’s a really nice park not even ten minutes away from here, wanna go?” Of course, I want to go, Jeong Yunho.

“Sure.” I nodded, smiling back at him, face burning. Great, only a blind man would be oblivious to the fat-ass crush I have on Yunho at this point! It’s so embarrassing, but I can’t help it when he looks so—cute!

“See that convenience store there?” He turned his head and pointed at the store, which was just down the road. I nodded, and looked at him with a questioning gaze, “Race you there!”

And before I could fully register what he said, Yunho released me and took off in a sprint towards the convenience store. My mouth opened in surprise and I blinked, finally somehow realizing we were competing to see who gets there first. But with Yunho having a head start, I grinned and dropped my skateboard onto the ground. I quickly pushed off and gained more speed as I manoeuvred between the people on the sidewalk, grinning from ear to ear as I started gaining on Yunho. He’s really fast, but it shouldn’t be so surprising as I have seen him in P.E. class already, and he’s one of the best athletes I know. He’s agile and super-fast, he has good reflexes, and is a total team player. The guys love picking him in their team when they are playing football. I giggled as I came up just behind Yunho, pushing harder as my foot hit the pavement, the wind whipping my hair in my face for a second as the store came into view. We were almost there. I did an ollie to jump over the top of a drain, managing to come up a little ahead of Yunho. I laughed as I rolled forward, just barely making it to the convenience store first. I did a small spin and then set my foot down, coming to a stop as Yunho reached me. He was breathing hard as he leaned over, placing his hands on his knees. I grinned at him, and gripped the foot of my skateboard, reaching out to ruffle his fluffy greyish-greenish-blueish hair. I have never done that before, and for a second, I panicked, but Yunho didn’t react badly to my action, he just smiled and shook his head.

“I didn’t think I’d lose.” He said with a laugh and then stood up straight, running his long fingers through his hair. He wore more rings today, and one looked suspiciously like a ring I have seen Mingi wear before.

“You can’t win at everything, Yunho.” I stuck my tongue out playfully before I turned to walk inside the convenience store, “I’ve never met a more competitive person than you are.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Yunho chuckled as he followed closely behind me, looking at the shelves as we went down the snack aisle, “But you can’t say it wasn’t fun.”

“It was.” I looked over my shoulder with a grin as Yunho grabbed some potato chips off a high shelf, “But next time give me a warning, I only got lucky because I had my skateboard with me. You didn’t play fairly.”

Yunho chuckled and I grabbed some salty crackers, “Sometimes we need the element of surprise, Y/N, in order to excel.”

“Aha, so now you’re saying you knew I would win if you didn’t warn me first?” I raised an eyebrow at him, making Yunho chuckle as he grabbed my shoulder and veered me towards the fridges in the back.

“I knew you’d win.” He muttered and I tried not to blush—again—as I opened the fridge and grabbed some Sprite, while Yunho grabbed a larger bottle of water, leaning over me to retrieve it and—yeah, I tried not to pass out as I felt his breath hit the top of my head, his warmth radiating off him due to our closeness. However, the moment was over as quickly as it came.

Thankfully, I still had the money my mother gave me last week, otherwise it’d be really embarrassing to have Yunho buy something for me again. Well, technically, last time neither one of us paid for it at Hongjoong’s store, but still. I didn’t want him paying for my things, I’d feel like I owe it to him now.

We approached the front desk and the clerk looked very bored and done with us as he gave us a glare—similar to Mingi’s, and it made snort quietly—as he scanned our items. I had pulled the money out of the front pocket of my backpack as the clerk told us our total, and I was totally handing him the amount I had to pay for, when Yunho pushed my wrist to the side and placed the whole sum on the counter. I opened my mouth to clearly argue with him, but he grabbed our items and grinned so widely I feared it would be the reason why I’d go blind—and not from the fact that I’ve been trying to look into the sun for ages now without squinting my eyes, not too smart, but I never claimed to be smart. I muttered a goodbye to the clerk as Yunho pushed the door open for me and stepped outside to make enough space for me to pass through the narrow doorway.

“Let me carry my things.” I said as the door closed behind us, but Yunho just shook his head.

“You have to carry your skateboard, don’t fret about it.” My eyebrows furrowed as he took off towards the park he had mention, I could see it from here. It was just a little up ahead of us, to the right, between three buildings.

“I’ll give you my part of the sum when we have sat down.” I said as I tried to keep up with his long strides—damn his long legs, God has favourites, and as much as Yunho is one of his favourites, I certainly am not.

“Nah, you don’t have to.” Yunho grinned, and I noticed a gummy worm hanging out from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, I do.” I huffed, walking towards the gate of the park, “And where’d you get that gummy from?”

“From here.” And he pointed at the pocket of his suit jacket—who the hell wears a suit jacket to school, good lord it’s so hot when Yunho wears it, I seriously had trouble focusing all day long because of it. I reached my hand out and stole a gummy worm from his pocket, giggling as I made disgusting slurping noises as I put it in my mouth, and sucked it in in one go. Yunho’s eyebrows raised before he burst out into deep giggles, throwing his head back a little—and I choked, almost. I coughed as the gummy worm almost managed to slip down my throat, but I saved it somehow last minute. Eating gummy worms around Jeong Yunho is dangerous, noted.

“Why was that kind of cute?” Yunho asked with a chuckle as he chose a spot to sit, underneath a tall tree, offering us enough shade from the, now, not so hot sun. I placed my skateboard down, and followed Yunho as he plopped down, the sound of his butt colliding with the grass making me snort. He looked up at me with a pout and then grabbed my arm and pulled me down, almost making me fall into his freaking lap. It didn’t even take a second for my cheeks to turn pink, and I threw Yunho a small glare as I regained my balance and sat down next to him, mirroring his position. Our backs were leaning against the tree, legs splayed out long in front of us as I took my crackers and Sprite from Yunho.

“What was cute?” I asked as I opened the bag of crackers, desperate to wash away the extra sweet taste that remained in my mouth due to the gummy worm.

“You,” Yunho muttered, opening his water bottle, “and the sound you made. You’re funny.”

“I didn’t think you’d find me acting like an Ogre cute, but thank you, I guess.” My comment made Yunho laugh hard again as he threw his head back, prompting me to giggle along. His laughter was contagious, and I realized my stomach was coiling tightly—and not due to the sweets and unhealthy food I have digested so far today. It was because of Yunho, and because all I want to do right now is to lean up and press a kiss against his cheek. God dammit.

“You’d make a cute Ogre.” Yunho mused once he had calmed down, then took a sip of his water.

“Please,” I playfully rolled my eyes, popping another salty cracker into my mouth, “you’d be totally into the green swamp monster I’d turn into. Fiona’s got nothing on me.”

“Not the way I thought you’d find this out about me, but—” Yunho paused for dramatic effect, and I raised my eyebrows at him, “I’m totally into Fiona, have been since I was little.”

“Oh, my God!” I cackled, shielding my mouth with my hand as I still haven’t chewed all the crackers, “Yunho! That’s just—you have to explain yourself now!”

“Why, don’t tell me you never had a crush on a fictional character!?” Yunho exclaimed, sounding exasperated as he bumped his shoulder against mine. I licked my lips and tried not to burst out laughing at the memory of who I’ve always had a crush on when I was younger.

“Okay…” I took a deep breath and turned my head to face Yunho, “Have you ever heard about the cartoon ‘W.I.T.C.H.’?”

“Yeah, Hongjoong really liked it while we were growing up,” Yunho said with a chuckle, “He’d make us watch it every evening when they played it on the TV, I think he was into Cornelia.”

“Well, Cornelia is a good, and hot, choice to have a crush on, indeed.” I pursed my lips and offered my bag of crackers to Yunho, who took one with a small grin, “I mean, I was totally into Caleb, but—”

“Really? Caleb?” Yunho asked surprised, narrowing his eyes, “I thought you’re more of a Matt girl.”

“Well, I’m actual neither a Caleb nor Matt girl, Yunho.” I giggled, leaning in closer as if I was telling a secret, “You see, I always found myself blushing a little bit too hard when Lord Cedric was on the screen—”

“No way!” Yunho exclaimed, eyes turning round as he looked shocked, “The snake guy?!”

“Well, don’t look at me like that after admitting you’re into Fiona!” I exclaimed back with a laugh, making Yunho look at me like I was crazy.

“Fiona was a princess who decided to turn into an Ogre to stay with the love of her life, meanwhile, Lord Cedric was obsessed with his king, he could into a snake, and he once ate someone, Y/N!” I bit my bottom lip, trying not to laugh at how passionate Yunho was all of a sudden.

“Each to its own, I guess.” I said nonchalantly with a shrug, making Yunho’s initial shock turn into amusement as he started laughing once again. I’ve never heard him laugh so much before, and I found myself smiling at him as his ears turned slightly rosy, eyes screwed shut as his shoulders shook from laughter. He looked completely and absolutely beautiful, and my heart was hammering against my ribcage, threating to fall out of my ass at any given moment. Oh, God, I’m so screwed.

“I swear to God, you and Mingi are cut from the same cloth. He’s also into weird humanlike creatures or something.” Yunho said once he had calmed down, and I quickly turned my head away when he looked at me, feeling like he caught me staring and admiring him.

“Not you shaming both Mingi and I for having silly childhood crushes.” I said with a pout, throwing a cracker into my mouth.

“Mingi still crushes on characters like those, though.” I chuckled, glancing at Yunho from the corner of my eyes, finding him looking at me with a small smile on his lips, cheeks flushed. God, he’s not blushing, right?! Why would he blush, it must be the sun. Yup, certainly the sun!

“I’ll tell him you made fun of him behind his back.” I teased as Yunho grabbed a cracker, leaning his head back against the tree.

“I fear it won’t phase him; San makes fun of him daily for it.” Yunho said, sounding amused. I chuckled and copied Yunho as I leaned my head back against the tree too, suddenly becoming aware of how close we were sitting next to each other. Our shoulders and thighs were pressed together, and Yunho’s elbow was softly poking into my stomach. I bit my lower lip and allowed the comfortable silence to settle upon us, watching the people that passed by the park. The traffic wasn’t so bad here, and there was a bus stop straight across the park. A sports car, with a super loud engine drove past, the sound making me wince for a second. And as I watched a mother with her two children open the gate of the park, I felt a hand in my hair, fingers twirling a longer strand. My heart stilled for a second, knowing well that it was Yunho, and I took a peek at him.

“Oh,” He suddenly retracted his hand, looking away embarrassed, “sorry, there was uh—something in your hair. A bug.”

Funny, Spiderman did that too.

“Thanks.” I offered him a small smile and watched as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, funny how that now reminded me of Spiderman too, “I hate bugs.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” Yunho said as he finally looked me in the eyes, his ears, however, still slightly red.

“Aren’t you a cool guy, Jeong Yunho?” I winked playfully and Yunho chuckled before we became silent again. I popped another cracker into my mouth and then offered the bag to Yunho, who took some more, and funnily stuffed his mouth full of them. I chuckled and proceeded to eat some more too, placing my left hand on my thigh as I tried to enjoy this peaceful moment. I’ve never had this back in my hometown. I didn’t have many people to hang out with, and the ones I did hang out with were always the bad type of kids, kids who wanted to break the rules and bother others. It was nice to finally embrace the tranquillity, and just simply exist without ruining others fun. Many people didn’t like me back in my hometown due to me associating myself with those rascals.

Lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice that something was softly poking my hand, the feeling just barely there, like the ghost of a touch. I watched the two children play around, climb into the smaller trees and wave at their mother as they laughed. When the light touch became more insistent, I flipped my hand around, thinking it was just an ant or something that I could flick away, but instead, I felt warm fingertips just barely trace the lines of my palm. I gulped and tried not to tense up as I looked down, eyes falling on Yunho’s hand as his long fingers pushed a little more decisively against my palm. I blinked and looked up at Yunho, but he was looking down at our hands, lips parted as if he was in a trance. I was curious—I had to know—so without thinking much, I gently intertwined our fingers, and waited. For something to happen, anything. But other than a tiny smile appearing on Yunho’s lips and his grip turning slightly firmer, nothing happened. Well, nothing besides the frightening feeling of my heart exploding out of my chest, and my cheeks burning so much you could probably fry a steak on it or something. I didn’t know where to put this exactly, what to think of it, but the seemingly trance Yunho was in, was broken the second loud sirens rung and police cars were suddenly wheezing down the street, the loud noise disturbing the tranquil atmosphere that had settled around us. Yunho became instantly tense as his head snapped up, eyes focused up ahead as he untangled his hand from mine, grabbing his backpack. I watched him curiously as he took his phone and opened it up, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

“I—I, uh, I have to go.” My eyebrows furrowed as I watched Yunho scramble up, leaving his water and potato chips on the ground, “My mom just texted me; something came up—I have to go.”

“Is everything alright?” I asked worried, watching Yunho bounce on his feet as he looked one second away from sprinting off.

“Yeah, it’s—everything’s okay, I just really have to go right now.” He finally looked at me, chewing on his bottom lip, looking like he was hesitating, “Don’t wait for me, your bus will come in ten minutes. Get home safely, text me when you do.”

“Oh, okay, uhm, you take care too.” But Yunho ran off before I could even finish my sentence, and I watched impressed as he jumped over the fence—which wasn’t very tall, but I wouldn’t have been able to do that surely—and then he was sprinting down the sidewalk, apologising to people as he had to push them out of his way.

Huh, that was weird and another interesting coincidence. I couldn’t help but think back to Mingi mentioning Yunho’s disappearances whenever something major and bad was happening in the city. Certainly, they were mere coincidences.

            But Yunho never quite texted back yesterday, and it would be a lie if I say I didn’t worry about him. His departure from the park was sudden, and his absence conjured up all sorts of thoughts in my mind. It was strange and very unlike Yunho. When I was on the bus, headed to school and completely sleepy and almost out of it, I was scrolling through Tik Tok, trying to awaken myself a little bit after I have texted San to inquire information about Yunho. He reassured me that there were days when Yunho would go low on contact, but he was completely fine, and that usually he spent his time with family when he wouldn’t text back. I could understand that, but it still worried me. Just as I was about to exit the app, I came across a crappy video on my for your page that depicted many police cars and even more officers as they had someone surrounded. And then, the superhero, the one that always saves the day around here, Spiderman swooped in and all you could see was his web flying around, and a man getting strapped to a pole until a gunshot rang out followed by a loud cry of pain, and then the video cut off. My eyebrows furrowed as I let it replay again, chewing on my bottom lip nervously. Who got hurt? You couldn’t see it in the video, and I couldn’t help but think that it was Spiderman. Without thinking much, I sent the video to San and asked if he knew anything. The reply, unsurprisingly, came fast, and he said that Spiderman got injured yesterday as one of the criminal’s managed to escape. He got shot in his left leg. I cringed at the thought, and then put my phone away having arrived to the high-school. I certainly wasn’t in the mood nor headspace to attend any of my classes today, but at least I’d get to see Yunho, and make sure that he’s okay.

Except that, very uncharacteristically to Yunho, he showed up a little late to our first class, and he even looked quite dishevelled with dark bags under his eyes. He looked like he didn’t have a good night’s sleep and—I almost failed to notice the slight limp he had in his left leg. Huh, I wonder if anything happened, or have I started seeing things now? However, I didn’t get many chances to ask Yunho about it as he seemed to be always busy talking to our teachers, or to everyone else in the hallways, barely paying attention to San, Mingi, or even me. It was strange, but San said it was completely normal behaviour coming from Yunho, and that he’d do this from time to time when he felt pressured. Apparently, Yunho rarely opens up to his best friends as he hates bothering others with his issues. But I wanted to know what was bothering him. He wouldn’t be a bother to me. But I couldn’t do that as he only sat for us for five minutes in the canteen during our lunch break, and then rushed off saying he had something to take care of. But after that, he never returned to classes. My texts also went unanswered, and by the evening, I was positively nervous and stressed out of my mind by the fact that I didn’t know what was wrong. I even debated on asking San for Yunho’s home address to pay him a quick visit in order to make sure that he was indeed okay. Even my mom noticed how absentminded and worried I was during dinner, but didn’t pester me much when I lied that the teachers were stressing me out with upcoming tests—which maybe wasn’t too smart as she told me I should study even more. Ugh.

Currently, we have finished having dinner and I have tied the trash bag together to take the trash out. I slipped on my outdoor shoes swiftly and unlocked the front door, my mom’s series playing loudly in the living room as she giggled at whatever was said. The air was chilly outside and the single long-sleeved blouse and joggers I was wearing did an awful job at keeping me warm, so, I quickly skipped down the stairs and went to the small alley between our house and the building. That’s where the big trash bins were, by the tall fence. It was dark outside, so I tried to be quick as I dragged the trash bag after me, shivering due to the cold. I huffed loudly, smog leaving my mouth, as I rounded the corner and gave the short alleyway a quick check that it was empty before I hurried down, opening the big trash bin. I threw the bag inside and let it shut loudly afterwards. I rubbed my arms up and down as I turned around and walked back down the alleyway, gasping loudly as a silhouette appeared right around the corner. It was hunched over slightly and breathing loudly, groaning too. God, I fucking hate this neighbourhood, why do I always have to encounter random drunk people or even worse—criminals!? But I really had to head back inside the house—climbing through my window wasn’t an option as it was locked—and I willed myself to just run past them and back inside the safety of my house. However, just as I made it under the streetlamp, I paused. The red and blue suit was torn at the chest, and Spiderman seemed to be struggling to stand up straight.

“Oh, my God!” I whispered, approaching him, “What happened to you?!”

“Oh, Y/N.” He muttered, groaning again as he tried to stand up tall.

“Stop that,” I hissed, eyebrows furrowing as I tried to inspect his wound, but it wasn’t visible through the gash on the suit, “Come on.”

Spiderman only resisted for a second as I placed his arm around my shoulders, offering him support as he leaned against my much smaller frame. He was heavy, but I was determined, and the front porch was barely a few steps away, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you inside my house, think you can keep quiet until we reach my room?” I looked up at Spiderman, who gulped as we reached the front steps.

“Yeah.” He whispered and I let out a small sigh, taking one step at a time as we ascended the stairs. I pushed the door open carefully and walked us inside, pausing in the hallway to make sure my mother was still in the living room, watching her series. I looked at Spiderman and signalled to him to remain quiet as I lead us down the hallway, headed for my room. I opened the door and helped him towards my bed, on which he fell down quite unceremoniously, groaning loudly.

“Okay, you still have to keep quiet.” I said with a frown, glancing behind me, “I’ll be back in a second with a medical kit.”

Spiderman nodded and I swiftly left my room, pulling the door shut until it was only slightly ajar, and sneaked back down the hallway. I opened the front door again and closed it louder, locking it up, “Mom, I’m going to bed now! I’m really sleepy.”

“Alright, sweet dreams, honey.” She threw a flying kiss my way as she glanced back and I smiled, catching it playfully before I was off, headed for the bathroom. I took the medical kit from underneath the small cupboard we had in there, and then I was back inside my room, closing and locking the door after myself.

“Alright,” I whispered, looking at Spiderman and trying not to panic as I noticed blood seeping through his suit, “how do we do this?”

“Uh,” He groaned again, sitting up lightly, “you can patch me up through the costume.”

“I can?” I muttered confused as I walked closer, placing the kit down by the bed as I crouched down. I leaned closer to his chest and carefully touched the costume, not too surprised to find it not peeling off his body, “I can’t, Spiderman, the costume literally clings to your body.”

“Oh, that’s not good.” He mused, scratching his nape, “I have to take it off, then.”

“Oh—like—the whole costume?” My voice was squeaky all of a sudden, and I averted my eyes as I felt myself blush lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” Spiderman whispered and I gulped, trying not to freak out. Yeah, this is cool and totally okay, nothing too sensational. I’m just helping a wounded guy, no biggie, it’s not like I’m going to see him naked! He must have underwear on, right?!

“I think I accidentally took some of my mom’s exe’s clothes with me when I was packing, let me check.” And I stood up and hurried over to my closet, finding the sweatpants and t-shirt that I had in mind.

“Great.” Spiderman grumbled and I rolled my eyes.

“Hey, you don’t get to be picky when you’re about to bleed out on my bed!” I hissed, trying to control my tone and not raise my voice out of fear of alerting my mom.

“Right, sorry.” Spiderman muttered and I approached him again.

“How do we take the suit off?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed. I’ve never seen something like this before, so I have no idea what superheroes do in this case.

“There’s a zipper on the back.” He explained and I nodded, going to the side of the bed to be able to see Spiderman’s back.

“Will—will the mask come off too?” I asked in a whisper as I hesitated to touch the zipper.

“No, don’t worry.” Spiderman answered and I huffed, gripping the zipper and carefully undoing it. It went all the way down to his lower back, and I blinked a few times as I tried to ignore the smooth skin underneath the suit.

“Uh, right, I assume you can undress yourself the rest of the way?” I asked as I stepped back, averting my eyes as my cheeks were burning.

“Yeah, one second.” Spiderman huffed and he carefully stood, groaning quietly. I closed my eyes and shrivelled around, not too keen of staring at him while he changes out of his costume. I might see something I don’t want to, and that’s not cool. I listened closely as he shuffled around, groaned a few times, and then plopped back down on the bed, “Okay, I have changed.”

“Great—” I gasped as my eyes fell on his exposed torso, eyes widening at the big gash running across his chest, “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital right now?!”

Spiderman chuckled, and my eyebrows furrowed more as I went back to my previous position in front of him. I kneeled and took the medical kit, opening it up.

“If we clean the wound, it’ll take around two to three hours to heal by itself.” He said, tone reassuring as I grabbed some gauze and rubbing alcohol, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“So, then, did you get shot yesterday?” I asked, pouring rubbing alcohol on the gauze before I looked up, “I saw the videos.”

The sight of having Spiderman in nothing but sweatpants and his mask, sitting on my is bed certainly—a sight to behold. Perhaps if he wasn’t hurt at the moment, I’d be gaping at his well-defined physique, his lean muscles, the faint abs on his stomach, his wide shoulder and broad chest—focus, woman!

“Yeah, I did get shot.” Spiderman said, and I hoped he’d ignore the way I tried not to thirst over his body. I’m such a horrible person right now, kill me.

“This will hurt, I assume.” I warned as I leaned up and gently pressed the gauze against the edge of the gash, making Spiderman hiss, “Sorry, I did warn you though.”

“I know, don’t worry.” He chuckled and I noticed his hands balling up the blanket as he gulped loudly the lower my hand slipped on the gash, trying to clean the wound as carefully but thoroughly as possible.

“Is your leg fine, then?” I asked, trying to avert his attention from the pain. Spiderman hummed, low in his chest, almost rumbling under my touch. I gulped and tried to focus—this is so not the moment to even think to fantasize about this superhero dude!

“It’s a bit still sore, the bullet went in deep, but it healed up by noon.” He explained and I hummed, for some reason finding it weird that Yunho seemed to be limping this morning, and that he disappeared around noon. Certainly, I was playing along to Mingi’s delusions and suspicions about Yunho at this point, and I don’t even spend that much time with Mingi. It’s ridiculous. How could Yunho be Spiderman? But then again…is it really that unbelievable? It could be anyone, for God’s sake, even me! Well, obviously not me, but you know what I mean!

“I’m glad that’s healed.” I muttered, getting to the other end of the gash finally, “Are you sure this one doesn’t need stitches, it looks to be deep, Mr. Spidey.”

Spiderman chuckled, and I felt his hand wrap around my wrist as I dabbed the gauze against the wound again. I froze, eyes widening a little at the familiarity of the touch. Yunho’s hands are always warm and quite big, his fingers long. I bit my bottom lip as I looked down at Spiderman’s hand, noticing the marks that looked like they were left by rings. Yunho would also have marks left by rings on his fingers on days he didn’t feel like wearing them. I gulped and then looked up; Spiderman’s freaky black masked eyes unblinking as he looked down at me.

“It won’t need stitches, Y/N.” He whispered, and a tingle ran down my spine, making me gulp down nothing in particular, having to clear my throat as I averted my eyes, gently pulling my hand back. Spiderman released his grip on me instantly and followed me with his eyes as I threw the bloody gauze back inside the medical kit until I’d throw it away. I then stood, rubbing my hands together as I didn’t know what to do next.

“I, uh—is that enough?” I asked, motioning towards the clean gash now, averting my eyes from his torso when they threatened to run all over it again.

“Yes, thank you.” Spiderman muttered, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “You’re an angel.”

Oh, fuck. My cheeks flushed instantly and I pulled my hair behind my ears as I cleared my throat again, looking past Spiderman, at my poster covered wall, “Right, yeah, uh—do you need anything else?”

“A little time to recover would be nice if I’m not bothering you too much.” Spiderman said, voice sounding hopeful.

“It’s fine, my mom won’t bother us as she thinks I’ve gone to bed.” I explained, placing my hands behind my back awkwardly, “Uhm, you said it takes two to three hours to heal, do you think this one will heal that fast if the wound made by the gun didn’t?”

Spiderman shrugged, and I watched as he finally took the white t-shirt I have given him in his hands, “It’ll certainly take longer than that, sometime around the early morning hours I should be fine.”

“Then stay.” I blurted out before I could actually think about what I was proposing. Spiderman froze for a second as he was about to wear the t-shirt, “I mean, you’re hurt and it’s dangerous outside, even Spiderman deserves to rest and be safe, no?”

He poked his masked head through the t-shirt, “Well, yes, but—”

“Then sleep here.” I motioned at the bed he was sitting on, “I will go to my mom and tell her I had a really bad nightmare, and that I wish to sleep next to her.”

“I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“Hey, Spidey, it’s totally cool.” I chuckled, showing him my thumbs up, “I’ll have so much fun retelling all this to Yunho, you know, my friend who’s obsessed with you. He’ll be dying that I got to patch you up and house you for a night.”

I giggled as I went to collect my phone from my desk, slipping it in my pocket. I should probably take some pyjamas with me and the medical kit as well. I walked to my closet as Spiderman watched me, and I opened the door to pick out my most favourite pyjamas to sleep in tonight. I closed the door and turned, smiling to myself…until I looked up. Until I found Spiderman gone and Yunho standing in his place. Red mask with the freaky black blinking eyes was clutched in his left hand, and his greyish-greenish-bluish hair was all messed up and dishevelled. My mouth dropped open as my pyjamas fell from my hands, and I found myself leaning back against my closet door.

“Yun—Yunho?!” I snapped; eyes wide open. This certainly must be a trick of the light or something, “There’s no fucking way you’re fucking Spiderman, Jeong Yunho!”

“But I actually am.” I watched Spiderman—no—Yunho scratch the back of his head awkwardly, averting his eyes, “This is not how I wanted to tell you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I huffed, eyebrows furrowing as I pushed myself off the closet, “It was you all along?!”

“Yeah, there’s just one Spiderman—”

“Yunho!” I hissed and walked up to him hurriedly, eyebrows furrowing, “Are you crazy?! You could’ve been so much more badly hurt! And your—your leg, you got shot yesterday, oh my God, I’m not crazy! I—I kept noticing similarities between you and Spiderman—like the constant head scratching and like—your physiques were similar—and I saw you limping this morning! I can’t believe you’re actually him, what?! And you have everyone fooled too, like—do you know Mingi is suspicious of you? I thought I was crazy for thinking you are similar to Spiderman after hanging out with Mingi, but, oh, my god, if he finds out he’ll be so mad, Yunho! And—the childhood friend—it’s Hongjoong you were talking about, isn’t it?! Oh, my God, I also told you everything about the reason why I moved here, and meanwhile I’m glad I won’t have to tell you again, I felt shitty for dumping all that on Spiderman, and it turns out it’s you—”

My eyes widened as my words got muffled, stolen away, as Yunho’s extra warm lips were pressing against mine. I froze, my whole body locking up as he leaned down even more, slotting his lips perfectly against mine. Oh, my fucking God, Yunho is kissing me?! My ultimate crush is absolutely kissing me right now?! And he also happens to be Spiderman?! What in the—I closed my eyes and pushed up on my tip toes, circling my arms around Yunho’s neck as I pulled him down closer, still careful of his wounded chest. Yunho was eager as he gently, experimentally, pressed his lips firmer against mine, his hands settling on my hips as he pulled me a little bit closer. I allowed his lips to slip between mine, gently sucking on his upper lip as I felt Yunho’s left-hand slip to the middle of my back, embracing me as he flushed me against himself. The position was a little bit uncomfortable as I had to crane my neck up and back, trying to keep my balance on my tip toes too, but it was worth it as I felt Yunho’s embrace completely engulf me, pull me into himself, wrap me up in a warm and safe cocoon. I didn’t dare breathe as our lips found a gentle and soft rhythm, Yunho, always the careful sweetheart that he is, didn’t want to hurry the kiss as he gently sucked on my lower lip, making the breath hitch in the back of my throat. I was slowly getting lightheaded, but I didn’t want to pull back just yet. Yunho, however, did slightly pull back, only to press thousands of little kisses against my lips, making me giggle quietly as his lips pulled into the widest smile I have ever seen on him.

“You’re so beautiful and cute.” I found myself whispering against his lips, eyes fluttering open. Yunho’s neck and ears were red, and I finally didn’t have to control myself as I cupped his cheeks and gently squeezed them, making him chuckle adorably, “God, I could squish your cheeks all day long. You’re so adorable.”

“You’re stealing all my lines, angel.” Well, now it was my turn to blush like crazy as I released Yunho’s cheeks and pressed my face into his neck, chuckling, “For the record, before you accuse me of it, I’m not narcissistic.”

I giggled against the hot skin of his neck, and pressed a swift kiss against the flushed flesh, he smelled like honey, “It’s quite important to be your own biggest fan, Spiderman.”

“You’ll forever tease me about it, won’t you?” Yunho asked with a chuckle as he pressed a kiss against the top of my head.

“Definitely.” I pulled back to look up at him with a grin, “But I promise to keep your secret. I’m sure Hongjoong would be more pissed than you if I said anything to anyone.”

“Oh, he definitely would be.” Yunho chuckled, and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead.

“Mingi will be really mad too once he finds out, you know.” I said with a pout, “He’s already very suspicious.”

“I know, I have noticed.” Yunho sighed as my arms slipped from his shoulders to his middle, “I plan on telling him soon, but the timing needs to be perfect.”

“Like with me?” I teased as I wriggled my eyebrows at him, and he chuckled. He draped his arms around my shoulders, and leaned down again.

“Well, I quite like the outcome of it, so I can’t complain.”

“Huh, have you been waiting long to kiss me?” It was only meant to be teasing, but the way Yunho flushed again, I knew I was right. And it made me blush too as I shook my head at him, “Well, same here, if I’m being frank. I think I’ve had a crush on you since the first day we met…”

“Well,” Yunho took a deep breath and leaned so close his warm breath hit my lips, “I know I fell in love with you the very day you moved to the city, angel. I was passing through the neighbourhood as Spiderman and saw you bringing the boxes inside while you were belting out those high notes of the song you were listening to.”

“That’s so embarrassing!” I grimaced, shaking my head at Yunho.

“No, it’s actually really adorable. You can’t fathom how often you gave me cute aggression, but I had to hold myself back.” I looked down flustered, knowing the feeling way too well.

“Well, Spiderman, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” I winked as I looked in Yunho’s warm chocolate brown eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Y/N, would you like to be Spiderman and Yunho’s girlfriend?” I chuckled, pressing a quick kiss against Yunho’s lips.

“Don’t refer to yourself in third person, it’s cringey.” I whispered, feeling just a little bit shy as I bit my bottom lip, “But yes, I would really like to be Spiderman and Yunho’s girlfriend.”

“Great, because Spiderman and Yunho also really want to be your boyfriend.” Yunho whispered back, engulfing me in a bear hug, making me feel safe, like nobody else ever has.

Bro, I can’t believe I just bagged both Spiderman and my crush in one go.

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[phainanon]

Thursday | T is for Temperature Play

⤷ Ft. Fyodor Dostoevsky

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, use of the name “Dear”, temp play, candle wax, fingering, orgasm denial, sacrilege, religious themes, reader grew up catholic, WC: 1.6k

A/N | Man, this woulda been so good to post on Thursday. A missed opportunity. Also I got just a weeeee bit carried away with this one sjdjkaksjajd 🙈

You let out a sharp whine when his fingers are removed from you for the fifth time now and you feel like you could burst at the seams at any moment now, but that still isn’t enough for you to admit your faults.

Fyodor was kind enough to let you roam the castle that the Decay of Angels were vacating before completely moving on to Japan for the final phases of his so-called pilgrimage. He never called it that of course, it’s what you refer to this whole plot as because you know it drives him up the wall. Most of this plan bored you to tears, but you’ve found pushing Fyodor Dostoevsky’s buttons to be peak entertainment in the mundane work you’ve been tasked with. While Nikolai was scouting and Sigma was running a whole casino in the sky, you were stuck at Fyodor’s side doing all the arranging and organizing and phone calls. You often feel like a damn secretary.

Tonight has been no different than the rest, other than you stumbling upon the Demon himself kneeling before an altar with his hands clasped, praying. You always thought that moniker was inaccurate. Fyodor wasn’t a demon, he was more akin to the first angel to fall from grace — The Devil himself. Undeniably beautiful, but with something dark lurking just beneath the surface.

You observed him for a few moments, truly caught off guard by just how beautiful the usually aloof man looked with the candlelight dancing across his relaxed features. It made him look much younger than you assume he really is. You thought again how the devil to his core was nothing more than a fallen angel. 

The peaceful atmosphere almost made you think twice about interrupting. Almost.

You didn’t outwardly interrupt at first. You entered quietly and respectfully kneeled next to the man. He didn’t even flinch at the sudden company and you almost pouted at the fact that you had such little effect on him — at least that’s what you thought. But then you notice the way his eyelashes subtly flutter when you “accidentally” brush against him. 

You smile to yourself slyly, you really hadn’t planned on bothering him tonight. Really. You were content with just exploring, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

Your eyes, which had previously been closed to pray along with the Russian, peeked open to eye him. It took you by surprise when you found Fyodor staring back at you, abandoning whatever prayers he had previously been reciting in his head. Your lips parted to speak but he beat you to the punch.

“I can practically hear those wheels in your head turning. I’ve been able to forgive your little…games up until now, but you’ve interrupted my time with God. I don’t think I can continue to be so forgiving, Dear.” His words had set your skin ablaze with excitement.

But now? Now you’re starting to regret interrupting him. However, you still refuse to admit to it and that’s how you find yourself with yet another denied orgasm. 

You watch with teary eyes as the man reaches over to grab one of the lit candles at the altar that’s doubling as this room's only source of light. Your pulse quickens as your foggy brain slowly puts together what Fyodor plans on doing with the candle. Another wave of excitement washes over you when the burning candles tips ever so slightly and a drop of hot wax lands on your bare stomach.

You shudder at the sensation and Fyodor watches your reaction closely, head tilted as he lets another few drops follow the first one. “Such a filthy thing you are. I must say, I wasn’t expecting a reaction like that. Are you still not ready to admit your sins?”

You’re not sure if you were meant to answer but all hope of that happening is lost when the pious man pushes his middle and ring finger into your leaking entrance. This would be number five? No. Number six. You wonder how long he’s willing to keep this up. You were sure that you could outlast him, but now? You’re doubting your own resilience. 

Fyodor’s patience has to be waning — vaguely noticing his fingers drag in and out of you at a faster pace than they had previously. 

You don’t have much time to dwell on the thought because now that he knows you’re not shy to the feeling, he pours more wax on your skin, this time on your thigh. Your head falls back and you arch off the cold ground. A strangled moan pushes its way past your lips.

The tingling on your skin from the hot wax is delicious, it’s a certain sensation that has your head going fuzzy again. “Fedya, please…”

Your plea goes ignored, he knows that you’re well aware of what he wants and that’s not it. His fingers are skilled and he works your insides like that gorgeous cello he likes to pick up and play from time to time. Plucking at your delicate walls, rubbing that sweet spot that makes you preen in his hold. 

Your mouth falls open but no noise follows, everything catching in your throat as you reach near release for the sixth time. 

And just like every other time, you’re curtly denied that sweet release. This time when your lips part a sob falls out and your whole body jerks. Your eyes are wild when you lift your head to look at the Demon himself. His eyes are dropped lazily and he wears a grin that makes your skin prickle in annoyance.

He’s enjoying this. He’s completely content with watching you squirm and cry. Suddenly you're hit with a realization that he’s expecting you to continue to fight him on admitting your fault. Banking on that stubbornness of yours to prevail and stretch this out further than it really needs to go. You think it already has and you consider finally giving in. 

Your thoughts are interrupted as you let out a hiss when more wax is poured onto your breast. You look up at Fyodor with sharp eyes as he clicks his tongue at you. “Your mind was wondering again. I wonder…Where did you go, hmm?”

His tone is light and almost teasing, something you’ve never experienced from the usually serious and intense man. That was all you needed to know that he is, in fact, having fun with you. Now you have to decide if you want to ruin this little game he’s playing, or let him have his fun. 

“My Dear, I asked you a question. It’s not polite to ignore someone.” He pours more wax on your other breast and trails it down your stomach. 

Your breath hitches again and before you can answer him, his fingers are prodding at your entrance once again. You let out a gasp when he adds a third finger. Your vision blurs and you swear you see stars. The stretch of a third finger being added is so delicious it makes every sense fuzzy. You let out a whine as your fingers dig into the antique rug laid underneath you.

“I was…Was considering giving a confession…” You let out a string of curses when his fingers speed up once again, a reaction you weren’t expecting.

You finally get it, there was no winning for you in terms of your pride. Either you stick to being stubborn and not admitting to doing anything wrong but continue to be denied any form of release or you find release at the expense of admitting to interrupting him on purpose. Either way, you were making a fool of yourself at his hands. At least if you give in you can find release.

“Were you now? How pleasant, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to this continued torture. It seemed too hard on you.” The bastard grins at you and you have half a mind to rescind your defeat, but then his thumb is brushing over your clit and you gasp at just how sensitive you are. “You grew up in a catholic orphanage, no?”

You can only muster a nod and it seems to be enough for him. “Good, then you’re familiar with the Act of Contrition prayer? Recite that correctly and I’ll give you the release I’ve been denying you for so long.”

He has to be joking. But just as you think that, his fingers slow and he gives you a pointed look as he dribbles wax across your collarbone. He’s not joking, he’s dead serious. 

Through your mind fog, you manage to stumble through the prayer, gasping every time he interrupts you with more hot wax. His own form of twisted irony for you having interrupted his worshipping hour, you’re sure. Once you utter the word “amen” Fyodor stays true to his word. His fingers quicken in pace and his thumb rubs circles into your clit.

It’s almost embarrassing how in a matter of seconds you're crying out his name and finally cumming hard after the numerous times you were denied. Your nails scratch at the rug and your body forms a high arch. Something doesn’t feel right as Fyodor continues to help you ride out your orgasm. Your hands are reaching out to claw at his arm but it’s too late, you flood his hand and the rug with your juices, squirting and making a complete mess.

Fyodor finally slows down when you go limp and clicks his tongue again. “What a mess…”

You weakly hum at his disapproval and try to sit up but he stops you. 

“No. I’m not done with you.”

[evertidings]

Hello~ I have a question about the writing/development process, if that‘s alright? What method do you use to keep track of choices/branches? I‘ve been debating on writing an IF, but the choice/branch thing seems almost more daunting than the coding 😭

I’ve answered this before but I love talking about this haha so I’ll explain it again.

I should start off by saying I’m not very Type B, so I don’t really need a rigid outline before I start writing. A lot of my best scenes are happy coincidences, and I come up with a lot of ideas on the spot. That said, having a vague idea of what you’re doing is always nice, especially since an IF is not a linear thing.

— FLOW CHARTS

When it comes to planning out various branches, I think the easiest way is to see it visually. I have a dedicated notebook for WTS, so when I start a chapter, I whip it out and conjure something like this (the flowchart above). Mine don’t go into detail about every choice that I want included in the chapter, but at the very least, I get a rough idea of how I want the chapter to begin and end, as well as how I am getting to that final checkpoint.

I also tend to write jot notes on the side of various topics I want to cover and scenes where that can happen. Again, I’m very flexible with my writing so having the freedom is useful to me, but it may not be for you.

— CHOICES & IF STATEMENTS.

Then, the writing. I start all my chapters in Word, which to most people will look crazy, but once you get used to it, you’ll find it’s actually quite organized. I’ve attached my layout above. The “Choice Placeholder” is, as you can guess, where I’d put the text for the choice players would choose. Everything in the bullet point would be text that only that route sees, and anything after it is common text that all the routes merge into.

I also included an example of how I set up my ‘if statements’, aka flavour text, in my Word document. While I usually write it in code, but for the sake of simplicity, I left it out. These aren’t reallyyyy necessary when you’re first figuring things out, but having flavour text can be nice for customization reasons. Like having your MC bump their head if they’re too tall for a doorframe, for example. I write these in a slightly different shade from my choices and on a different bullet point line just to make it easier on my brain and eyes.

Word (I’m not sure about Google Docs) allows you to create headers and collapse them, so if this looks a little too crazy for you, that’s always an option.

— CHARTS

If you need a little more structure and can’t just, like, freestyle your choices in a document, you can also make a chart. I do this to keep track of my variables. This one, for example, is from Chapter 8. I obviously crossed some things out, but you get the gist of it. While I’m not sure this would be the best method for organizing branches, it definitely helps in other areas.

Either way, I find that having a spreadsheet like this is the best way to keep everything in one place. If you have a lot of flavour text like me, it’s also good for when you want to reference something from a previous chapter. Because of that, I only really include variables I think will be useful for the future; if I put every variable I’ve ever created in a chart, I think I’d explode.

— OVERALL

I don’t think branches should be something that intimidates you. It’s very different from the traditional, linear way of writing, for sure, but I think as long as you keep it simple, it’s not that difficult. First chapters tend to have a lot of choices on customization and there is little space for flavour text since you have no previous text to reference, so you can always use that as a ‘trial run’ before getting into more complicated things.

If you decide to go through with it, good luck!! Let me know if you have any more questions too (and hopefully this answered your initial one).