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elijahstwink · 1 year ago

Note

i also have the fantasy of fucking elijah in red door mode yooo 😳 ... but if you ever feel inspired and want to write smut abt it , Im interested in reading it ofc,, and there is also just so few red door elijah shit out there 💔

𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓖𝓸

(I’d let him punch me holy this gif is hot)

Your boyfriend is going through a rough time. You help him feel better ;)

Thank you for the request anon! I always feel like writing dark!Elijah smut so this was so fun! It’s also the freakiest thing I’ve written lol. I hope you enjoy - Dex

Warnings: Blood play, Spitting, Choking, Slapping, Oral F!receiving, Dom!Elijah, Sub!reader, Elijah’s pretty mean, overstimulation, blood drinking, degradation, use of slut, whore etc

Seperate warning for this one. This has CNC! (Aka Reader consents for Elijah not to stop when she asks him too)

Your white dress billows behind you as you sprint down the hallway and towards the red door. Your bare feet burn at each step on ragged tile. You glance back to see Elijah turn the corner. His stone cold face and bare chest are covered in blood, all emotion void from his expression. Desperation fuels your speed, your legs burning and your lungs screaming as adrenaline courses through you. Elijah follows at a steady pace, his deliberate steps echoing, his breathing animalistic. He could catch you in an instant, but he prefers the thrill of the chase. He wants to savor your fear, your pain.

His footsteps are unnervingly close as you near the door. Just a little farther…

You slam into the red wood, pain shooting through your arm as you grasp the brass doorknob. It’s locked. You pound on the door, scream, and glance back in terror as Elijah approaches.

“Elijah, please!” you plead, but he keeps coming. This isn’t your Elijah, the kind and noble man you loved. This is a monster.

You turn back to the door, pounding and screaming for help, but it’s too late. Elijah’s hand clamps onto your upper arm, yanking you toward him. You struggle, but his grip is unbreakable. His eyes darken, veins pulsing as he opens his mouth, revealing sharp fangs glinting in the darkness.

Elijah jolts upright in bed, his body drenched in sweat and trembling. Nightmares of hurting you plague him every night since the incident with his mother. The red door haunts his mind, and he can no longer ignore it.

Breathing deeply, Elijah clutches his hair and turns to watch you sleep. Usually, this sight calms him, reminding him that he isn’t the blood-covered man in his dreams. That red door Elijah is just a fragment of himself, a dark fraction everyone has.

But tonight is different. The dreams are more vivid, leaving him feeling feral and dangerous. Every small sound or touch threatens to make him lose control. He needs blood.

Elijah carefully slips out of bed, pulling on grey sweatpants. He moves silently through the dark compound, descending the staircase to the large kitchen. He rounds the island, opens the blood fridge, and light floods the dark space. He grabs three blood bags and rips into one.

As the blood overtakes his senses, veins web below his eyes. He grips the marble countertop harder, ripping open the second bag, anger rising. The taste of blood makes red door Elijah creep to the surface.

“Lijah?” you call from the doorway, wrapped in a silk nightgown. Elijah’s head snaps up, his red eyes meeting yours as the marble edge crumbles in his hand. You rush to him, but before you can reach him, he grabs you by the neck, pinning you against the wall.

Despite his aggressive state, you’re not scared. You’ve been worried for him since he returned, his personality flipping randomly between normal and red door Elijah. The worst was on Bourbon Street, when he tried to rip out a man's heart for bumping into you. Red door Elijah is possessive, never letting you out of his sight, fearing that if you walk away, he’ll start chasing you like in his dreams.

Elijah's grip on your neck is firm but not painful, and you see the conflict in his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay, my love,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks and tracing the veins with your fingertips until they fade.

Elijah’s eyes return to their regular onyx shade, guilt washing over him as he releases your neck and drops the empty blood bag.

“Shh, you’re alright, I’m alright,” you comfort him, wrapping your arms around him as he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck.

“I- I don’t know what to do, I crave you,” Elijah growls into your skin, his fangs gently scratching along your pulse point. Your eyes shut at the contact, but an idea pops into your head. A crazy, probably stupid idea... but an idea nonetheless.

“Perhaps you need to release all the pent up anger.” You suggest carefully. Elijah pulls away from your neck and stares at you in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He places his hands on the wall either side of your head, keeping you trapped against him. You can tell by the look in his eye that he definitely knows what you mean.

“I mean,” You rest your hand flat on Elijah’s bare chest, sliding it down to cup him over his sweatpants. “Let go, take it all out on me.” You gaze up at him innocently, something you know drives him nuts. Elijah swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement.

“No y/n. I wouldn’t be myself, I could hurt you.” Elijah shakes his head, already feeling his alternate personality taking control as his cock thickens under your touch.

“That’s the thing, you won’t hurt me. And as soon as you prove that to yourself, you can start to move past this.” You explain, slipping your hand under his waistband and taking hold of his erection, his length warm in you grasp.

You completely believe what you’re telling him. You know that he would never hurt you if not for pleasure, but that doesn’t stop you feeling like this may be a mistake. After all, Elijah is pretty dominant in bed already. If normal Elijah can edge you for hours or make you cum so much you’re begging for him to stop. Who knows what red door Elijah will do.

“Do you kn-“ Elijah interrupts himself with a deep groan as you push his pants to his feet and bring your unoccupied hand down to play with his balls, rolling them between your fingers. You can’t tear your gaze from his swollen cock and the bead of arousal gathering at the tip as wetness builds between your legs. You could mentally pat yourself on the back right now for not dropping to your knees and licking it up.

He suddenly grips your wrist, rough enough to leave a mark, making you gasp in surprise and release your hold on him. When you look up, you see that his eyes have returned to that crimson shade with veins underneath them. He grabs your neck with his free hand and leans down till your faces are inches apart.

“Do you know what you are asking for?” He breaths against your lips, tightening his hold when you nod. “Words.” He commands sternly.

“Yes, Elijah.” You squeak. He smirks at you, the veins flowing under his eyes.

“And you are aware that if you say stop, I won’t.” Elijah growls. You can tell he’s holding back, needing your consent before doing anything more.

“I know. I want you…” You murmur, bravely grabbing at his crotch again before whispering in his ear, “to ruin me.”

You can visibly see when red door Elijah fully takes over, any apprehension within him vanishes as he suddenly rips your night gown off your body and steps out of his pants, leaving you both naked.

“I didn’t mean here!” You whisper, looking around anxiously. The kitchen is one of the main rooms of the compound. If anyone were to wake up it’s highly likely they’d come to this room.

You squeak as Elijah lifts you onto the centre island and pushes you to lay flat on it. The cold marble countertop against your back sends chills down your spine as Elijah stands between your legs. His eyes are clouded,

“What if someone walks in?” You ask as Elijah bends your knees so that your feet are on the counter and your core is exposed. Elijah doesn’t respond, instead grabbing the last blood bag and holding it over you with a smirk.

You don’t have time to even question what the hell he’s planning before he rips the plastic in half with his hands, drenching you in blood. God this man is lucky you love him because no other human would still be turned on while covered in blood. Elijah leans down so you are face to face, his chest is getting covered in blood now as well.

“If anyone walks in here,” Elijah dips a finger between your breasts, “I’ll snap their neck.” He growls, sucking on his now bloody finger, moaning at the taste.

Red door Elijah doesn’t seem to be the slow and steady type. His movements are rough and almost crazed as he grips your thighs and pulls your legs over his shoulders. Now eye level with your blood covered cunt, Elijah doesn’t hesitate to practically devour you. The filthy sound of his mouth slurping up the mix of blood and arousal between your folds echoes throughout the kitchen. You release a choked moan as he sucks harshly on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Normal Elijah usually starts soft and gradually builds your pleasure to its peak. So this unfamiliar pace fills you with an uncomfortable sensitivity, causing you to grip his hair in both your hands and try to push his head away. Elijah releases a disapproving grunt at your actions. He moves his grip from your thighs to your wrists and pins them straight down at your sides. Your hands clench helplessly at the sleek countertop in an attempt to find something to grip as you squirm with oversensitivity.

When your wrists are tugged on slightly, you lift your head for the first time to watch the man between your legs. Elijah’s face is coloured crimson and veins are moving beneath his skin. A whimper passes your lips when his tongue thrusts inside you and his red eyes meet yours. His gaze is intense and demanding, practically shouting ‘behave’. You throw your head back against the marble with a loud moan as Elijah starts fucking you with his tongue. The feeling of the pointed muscle curling against your sweet spot has you arching your back. Sharp stabs of overstimulation are turning into waves of pleasure, causing you to clench your thighs around his head.

“E-Elijah I’m so close.” You wail, all your pleasure knotting together, building up in your lower stomach. Elijah hums in approval, his tongue working faster. and his nose nudging against your clit. Your moans increase in pitch as you’re brought closer to the edge, your hips jerking and your legs starting to shake. It doesn’t take more then a few thrusts of Elijah’s tongue against the spongy spot inside you before you’re coming, wailing in pleasure and practically grinding on your boyfriends face as you get lost in the euphoric feeling. Your legs are almost vibrating with the intensity of their shaking and your walls are pulsating around Elijah’s tongue as you come down from your orgasm.

Elijah pulls away quite suddenly, releasing his bruising grip on your wrists and dropping your legs from his shoulders. “Stand up.” He orders, taking a step backwards. You would have given him a ‘are your serious right now?’ type of look, if you weren’t too out of it. Instead you stay lying across the counter, trembling as you come down from your high. After a moment of silence you manage to speak out, “Elijah, Can’t.”.

“I said,” he grabs you under your arms and hauls you upwards so you are standing on shaking legs, all your weight being supported by him, “stand up.” He seethes, releasing his grip.

Your knees instantly buckle underneath you and you fall into Elijah’s chest. You would have hit the ground if not for him wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you against his chest and smirking at your feeble state.

“My naughty girl,” Elijah tugs your hair so that your head swings back, your eyes meeting his, “can’t even follow a simple task, hm?” He taunts.

His face has returned to normal, and he seems to have wiped the blood from around his mouth at some point. Elijah’s eyes are clouded with more than lust and you can see the red door version of him staring back at you. He usually talks much more during sex, and you can’t deny that you miss the comforting praise.

That thought is literally smacked away as Elijah’s palm meets your cheek in a light slap. You probably look like an idiot for a split second as you process what he just did.. and how much you liked it. You release a drawn out moan as he repeats the action before grabbing your jaw, holding your head up to his and smirking.

“Do you like that?” Elijah chuckles as you flush in embarrassment.

“If you wish to act like a slut, then I will treat you as such. Open.” He growls, pulling at your jaw as you open your mouth. Red Door Elijah is seemingly full of surprises, as he lines up his mouth with yours and spits. The feeling of someone else’s spit in your mouth would likely make you throw up. But this was Elijah, your boyfriend and the love of your life so of course it feels good. A rush of arousal wets your spent cunt as you gurgle slightly.

Elijah clamps your mouth shut, grinning like a maniac as he instructs you “Swallow,” The slide of his spit down your throat makes you moan, absolutely loving the filthiness of his actions, “Good girl.” He praises you for the first time, giving your jaw a light squeeze before releasing it.

The praise is gone as quickly as it came when Elijah spins you around, bending you over the counter. You gasp at the coldness against your sensitive nipples. He holds your hip with one hand, the other guiding his erect cock through your shiny folds. The pleasure of Elijah nudging your clit with every upstroke distracts you from the feeling on blood slowly drying on your skin.

Your mouth drops in surprise, screaming out as Elijah suddenly enters you in one bruising thrust and with no warning. The stretch is painful, but you’re wet enough that he slides in easily. Your hand shoots behind you on reflex, pushing hard against his torso. Elijah only chuckles at your pathetic attempt of pushing him away, grabbing your wrist and holding it behind your back.

“Too much Elijah, please just wait!” You plead when you feel him starting to move inside you, blood smearing the whit marble underneath you.

“Shh, take it.” Elijah shushes, not waiting for you to adjust before slamming into you again, his tip pressing against your cervix and causing you to sob out a moan. With every battering thrust of his hips, the loud clap of skin meeting skin fills the room.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before the pain dulls into a numbing ache and the pleasure overwhelms you. You’re moaning like a whore, taking every inch of his thick cock inside you, your walls fluttering around him. The way his shaft glides across your g spot makes you jerk with pleasure.

“That’s it, such a sweet little slut falling apart on my cock.” He coos, releasing your hand and pulling you up till your back meets his chest. He wraps his arm around your neck so your chin rests on his bicep and keeps working his hips back and forth, fucking into you in long, brutal strokes. The base of his cock throbs every time he bottoms out, and his balls slap against your slit with wet, filthy noises. His animalistic grunts mix with your cries of pleasure.

“Still too much for you?” He teases, laughing when his only response is a gurgle of incoherent words that you didn’t even notice came from your mouth. “Yeah?” He murmurs, pounding into you at an inhuman speed.

Elijah rests his other hand on your blood stained lower stomach, sending a jolt of warmth through you.

“Who do you belong to?” Elijah whispers, his breath tickling your ear. “Who owns this cunt, y/n?” He runs the tips of his fingers over your clit.

“Y-you Elijah!” You sob, tears forming in your eyes from the intense pleasure this man is giving you.

“That’s my girl.” Elijah praises before bringing his hand down hard on your clit. Surprisingly it wasn’t painful at all. You heard the smack before you felt it and suddenly you were gushing around his cock, the mix of his cock rubbing at your walls and the sharp pleasure to your clit plummeting you into an unexpected orgasm. Your eyes go blurry from tears as you squirt all over the counter and floor. Euphoria runs through you in a single wave as your walls uncontrollably pulsate around Elijah.

“Look at you, cumming on my cock like a good little girl. Making such a mess.” Elijah’s groans, pulling out of you suddenly. You whine at the loss, feeling your slick cunt clench at the air. Elijah turns you to face him before bending down and hooking his arms under your legs. You squeal as he lifts you up, essentially folding you in half as your knees touch your shoulders. Elijah’s hands cup your arse, and you wrap your own around his neck. He shows no strain as he holds you in mid air, turning you both so he can lean slightly against the counter.

You throw your head back and clench your eyes shut as Elijah pushes inside you again, the sensitivity of having just cum causing you to claw harshly at his back.

“Elijah, stop!” You call out, the overstimulation feeling like too much. He doesn’t listen, not that you were expecting him too.

You’re absolutely helpless as he starts moving you up and down his length, using you like some type of fuck doll. You fidget and squirm relentlessly in an attempt to make him stop.

“Look at me!” Elijah barks. You use the little strength you have to lift your head, meeting his intense and feral gaze. “You are going to shut up, take my cock and you’re going to fucking enjoy it. Do you understand?” He sneers, slowing down so you can catch your breath and come up with a coherent sentence. You’ve never heard Elijah speak so vulgar before and it strangely turns you on.

You know that if you put up enough of a fight, your Elijah would come back and stop immediately. He’d probably beat himself up with guilt while he holds you and apologises way too many times. But you don’t want Elijah to feel bad, you asked him to do this in the first place.

“I understand, wanna take it.” You rush out before crashing your lips onto his, you can feel his grin as you try to shove your tongue into his mouth. He parts his lips for you and you whimper when he sucks heavily on your tongue.

Elijah thrusts his hips up erratically, his thrusts reaching vampire speed as his climax steadily approaches. You break the kiss to bury your face in his neck when you feel your own rising in your gut.

Elijah lifts one hand to grip your hair and pull your head back to present your neck. Searing pain rushes through you as his fangs pierce your skin, mixing with the pleasure of his thrusts. Your vision goes black as your third orgasm of the night crushes you. The feeling of Elijah’s cum filling your tight cunt only prolongs your pleasure. You feel Elijah retreat from your neck as his moans fill the air, mixing with what you realise is your own screams.

Elijah slips out of you when his cock stops spurting, feeling the aggressive, lust filled haze of red door Elijah dissolving with every passing moment. He sits you on the counter momentarily to unhook his arms from underneath your legs. Then he lifts your trembling form back into his embrace, one hand holding your bum for support and the other cradling your head into his neck. Your grip around him loosens as you continue riding the waves of pleasure, shaking like a leaf in his hold.

Elijah chuckles endearingly as you moan into his neck. “Still coming baby?” He grins, kissing the top of your head. You manage a small whimper of agreement as you feel him start to walk somewhere.

Thank god for vampire speed, because Elijah has you in a warm shower within the minute. You rest against him, half asleep, as he washes the dried blood off your skin. After you are both clean and dry, you settle under the covers of your bed, cuddled up to the love of your life.

“Please tell me you don’t regret it.” Elijah mumbles into your hair. You release a tired laugh, your face pressed against his chest.

“No my love, I don’t regret it at all. Did it help?” You yawn, cuddling further into his comforting embrace.

“Definitely.” Elijah sighed, his mind feeling a lot calmer and his body tired. You tilt your head up, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

“Love you lijah.” You smile into the kiss as you speak. Elijah copies your grin as he responds, “Love you so much baby.”. He gives you one last peck before leaning back into the pillow and closing his eyes, waiting till he hears your cute snores before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

The couple are passed out cold by morning, still recovering from their late night. Klaus however, is very much awake as he stumbles into the living room, where Freya and Kol are engaged in an intense game of chess.

“Do not go into the kitchen!” Klaus gags, collapsing onto the couch in a dramatic heap. “And remind me to kill both Elijah and Y/N.”.

T A G L I S T (msg or comment to be on it)

@b1tchy

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juricel · 4 months ago

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seeing your posts and as a small attempt to break authors block here's a lil request (^_-)

ok so id like to request yandere shadow milk cookie with a s/o who somewhat acts like candy apple cookie? like... not ACTUALLY candy apple cookie but theyre obsessed with him and is willing to do everything he desires and commands + gets really jealous when he interacts with someone ^o^

-🐧 anon

(btw ive read your old orphaned fics in ao3 and miraculously found your tumblr you dont know how happy i am)

a/n: okay first of all... how... and second of all, we do NOT talk about my orphaned ao3 fics. not in this household. zip mouth.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x obsessive! reader

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: yanderes, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, emotional abuse, threats of physical violence, imprisonment/kidnapping, coercion, control, dependency, non-consensual power dynamics, potential ooc.

𖦁 to say that he adored your obsessiveness is an understatement—no, he was besotted with it: savoring your sweet fixation like a sugared poison on the tongue, watching with bright, slitted amusement as you knelt before him without question, without hesitation, a devotee at the altar of his caprice. how you squirmed beneath the lightest flick of his attention, how your breath hitched when he, with deliberate carelessness, let his interest wander elsewhere. ah, but that was his favorite part—the way your jealousy trembled at the edges of you, coiling tight, teeth bared but mouth shut, the way your hands clenched in your lap, as if to keep yourself from lunging, from begging. he would press upon that wound like a scholar taking notes, tilt his head to better see how it darkened in your chest, how it shaped the curve of your shoulders, how it swelled against your ribs like a swallowed scream. It was divine, this spectacle of you unraveling in real time, caught in a dance between anger and longing, between dignity and desperation, ah, you were just too cute like that, he couldn't help himself from prodding on it, gently, softly, and slowly making you break in jealousy! but more than that—more than your ire, more than your brittle restraint—it was your fear that delighted him most, that quiet, gnawing terror that, if he ever truly turned away, you might cease to exist altogether.

𖦁 cruelty? oh, but that was such an ugly word, so ill-fitting, so crass. he never meant to be cruel—never. he was merely curious, merely an observer conducting a harmless little experiment, a scholar of your trembling devotion. how could he resist the temptation to nudge, just a little, just to see? a whisper here, a lingering touch elsewhere, a fleeting glance in another’s direction—what a marvel it was, the way you burned. and if you had not responded so exquisitely—if your breath had not hitched so prettily, if your fingers had not curled into your palms, if your voice had not quivered with that delicious mixture of fury and desperation—then, surely, none of this would have been necessary. but you had, and so it was, and really, really now, how could you blame him for indulging in such a delectable reaction? oh, but please—don’t cry. won’t you look at him? won’t you listen? there’s no need for all these trembling lips and damp lashes, no need for those hands to shake at your sides as if they don’t know whether to strike or to cling. he’ll never leave you, not ever, so why weep as if he would? and really, as much as he wants to regret it—the tears, the way your breath catches between sobs, the exquisite fire in your eyes when fury overtakes sorrow and your hands lash out, striking him with more love than hatred—he simply can’t. because you are beautiful like this, you are his like this, raw and fraying and utterly caught in the web of him. surely, you wouldn’t mind a few lies, would you? soft ones, sweet ones, warm as milk and thick as honey, sliding down your throat. if only you had paid him more attention, this wouldn't have happened. if only you had never turned away, never left his side even for a moment, he wouldn't have done this. if only you had been good enough, loved him enough, wanted him enough—then, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, he wouldn’t have needed to do this at all. but he knows you understand, don’t you? you always do. that’s what he loves about you. wasn't he such a sweetheart? a cruel obsessive lunatic

𖦁 oh, but perhaps, perhaps… if you came to his spire, if you lived in it, breathed in its air, let its walls wrap around you like an embrace—if you stayed within the sanctuary of his love, right beneath his pinky, tucked neatly where you belong—then maybe, maybe he wouldn’t have to be so cruel. yes, yes—that was it. the answer had been so simple all along! if you stayed, if you never left, if you allowed yourself to melt into the fabric of his world, then surely he wouldn’t need to do such things, wouldn’t need to test you, wouldn’t need to watch you unravel just to be certain you were still his. stay, won’t you? let him love you properly, let him keep you as you should be kept. it’ll feel just like home, he promises—just like home, only better.

𖦁 you’ll do anything he says, don't you? of course you will. you always do. so then, listen closely—for this was his command: be good. be quiet. be his. come to him, right where he can see you, right beneath his strings. it’ll be heaven. oh, it will—a place where you don’t have to think, don’t have to fight, don’t have to worry. just let go, let him pull, let him move you as he pleases. wouldn’t that be easier? wouldn’t that be beautiful?

𖦁 surely you won’t mind being kept in a cage, right? after all, isn’t this what you wanted? to be his, to have his undivided attention, to be held so tightly you could never slip away? oh, but he’s giving you everything—his love, his time, his adoration. isn’t that enough? isn’t that what you craved? so don’t ever leave. don’t even think about it. because if you do—if you even try—then, well… he’ll have to make sure you never do it again. he’ll have to fix you, won’t he? break you down, piece by piece, until you can’t walk, can’t eat, can’t move without him. until every little thing you do, every breath you take, is only possible because of him. oh, but don’t look so afraid. this is love, isn’t it? this is what you wanted, this is what you've yearned and sought for all along, there was no use in thinking anymore, he'll help you! for he has more than enough knowledge to assist you.

a/n: I loathe shadow milk cookie so much I want to wrap him up in unmarred flowers, let the thorns of roses prickle his skin and watch until his blood mingles with the petals, till air thick with the smell of iron, till life drains from him in a slow, sickly feast of pain.

anyway, for those who had requested during my hiatus, please resend your requests if you still would like it done! the second owner usually deletes them without a glance so I could pay more attention to my studies and church duties (all requests after this work has been deleted as i immediately went into hiatus afterward)

#cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #crk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #cookie run kingdom x you #🐧 anon

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oraclekleins · 1 year ago

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hello hello!! i discovered you a few hours ago and LOVE your content<3

could i request a joost klein x gn!reader where the reader is also competing in eurovision, representing {readers country} and basically they are already dating and joost kind of gets jealous because readers new make up artist got a little TOO touchy.. once they get back to their shared hotel room he expresses that jealousy by getting a bit more clingy?

when reader tried to ask about whats wrong he just kisses them or brushes it off as not important :3

thank you if you accept my request and have a great day <3

ill be 🩵anon if that’s okay!

Hii! Thanks for being so sweet, nonnie! Hope this is up to your liking. 💙 I changed the prompt a little iiif that's alright, so here's kind of an aftermath of that. ^^ I love any feedback.

You're Overcomplicating Things . . -> Jealous!Joost Klein x Reader

The buzzing of Joost's phone wakes him with a start.

His head turns a bit to the side, slowed from exhaustion. Joost's vision is still catching up with him, the living room gauzed in a radial blur; he feels like he’s wading through quicksand — dragging himself to sit up, before his arm catches another body. You're curled onto the left side of the bed, unmoving — the pillow your arm was wrapped around having ended up on the floor. There’s a spot of drool on your hoodie, plush lips tugged along the bold Eurovision logo of your sleeve.

“Morning,” Joost mumbles, patting the cushions for his phone. His voice is groggy, scratched dry from the shitty beers you two had downed the night before. He grimaces at the spit webbed on the top of his mouth, flicks at it with his tip of tongue in disgust. He moves to gently push at your leg; it’s hot, too hot for you to lounge this close; there’s a pool of sweat sinking into the crook of his chest — he feels gross, sticky, uncomfortable. There's a heavy silence in the air. It feels like you did something wrong, but you can't place your finger on it. You stir in response, a whine of annoyance rumbling from your throat. You blink over to see what Joost's all worked up about, who’s grabbing his phone from the nightstand, pinching at his forehead.

"Good morning — what's wrong?" You're still waking up, clearing the spit from your throat. Biting back a cough, you manage to sit up, pressing on the wrinkles from your shirt.

Joost offers you a tired smile, moving to kiss your forehead. "Long day ahead, right? Hop to it." A bit of enthusiasm pokes out of his voice as the words die out, his lips trailing to your jaw, pressing into it. It feels like he's hiding from you, even when he's slotted into your side like a puzzle piece, lazily tracing his fingers against your hip.

He's sulking, the boy-shape trying to disappear into your skin, upset and loathing.

Your fingers find his curls, gently raking your nails across his scalp. He makes a noise of satisfaction, face nestling closer to your collarbone.

You would know his envious touches through death. There were small, red marks around your waist where he had been pressing into it, marking you, yet.. gentle. Apologetically, he rubbed his thumb over them, turning his face from you.

"Joost," you sigh, "you think it's stupid," he perks up. "Right? That's why you won't tell me."

His bottom lip is caught between his teeth. "Your makeup, it looked good yesterday. The new artist. Good." Joost fixates on the blanket under you both, looking anywhere but at you. "Good connection."

"Good connection?" He's already kissing the words from your mouth, stealing them from you. If he took them, then he wouldn't have to hear you say them. Listen to you accuse him — be disappointed. "Joost, let me," you're tired of this game already, and he's holding you like he can't get enough, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. You can feel the tense of panic in him, cold throughout his veins, a tremble to his grip.

You're prying his fingers away — careful, soft, not like a punishment. A warning. "You need to talk to me."

Joost is quiet for a minute. He's thinking. His uncomfortable grin is full of teeth, ones that graze on your irritability, biting into you like a peach. He doesn’t wipe the juice from his mouth — instead lets it dry on his chin, picking at the stain. A rash of his own, festering nerves.

He sits up. Joost's tank hugs his figure. His hair is coiffed into loose, blonde strands of fray, kissing the back of his neck — bouncing when he tilts his head. He frowns. You wrap your arm around his shoulder, keeping him afloat.

"You do not rehearse today, yes?" Joost asks after a bit. You want to make a remark about how you have his schedule memorized, everything written down on your phones, laid out for him — it's a little mean. He doesn't need it right now.

Swinging your legs to the side of his bed, you nod. "Not today, yeah. You want me to come hang out with you?"

Joost nods, a little too fast.

You kiss the side of his head, pulling him back into your chest. "You need to tell me when you're upset. Even if you think I'm gonna get mad, or, I don't know — weirded out."

"I love you." You hum into shoulder. You're ghosting the pad of your thumb against his cheekbone. He looks satisfied, curling back into you.

Joost tangles your fingers. You know how this goes.

"I love you too."

Thanks for reading!

#my writing #joost klein x you #joost klein imagines #joost klein x reader #anon 🩵#this is so short im sorry

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frost-queen · 2 years ago

Text

Starcrossed lovers / 1 (Reader x Peter Parker) NWH

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: You & Peter were in love till he lost you. Pulled through a portal he did not expected to meet you again on a different earth. When the battle against Green Goblin in upon them has Peter a chance to forgive himself but at what cost? [series list]

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you Y/n.” – Peter breathed out. Some electricity flickered dangerously above his head. You gasped loud looking up to him. Feet dangling in the air as his hand in yours was the only thing holding you in place. – “Peter…” – you said anxiously. The broken insides of the construction site clear. In the midst of the building you were hanging. Your life literally in Peter’s hand.

He himself hung stuck on a support bar made of metal with only his web. You gasped again hearing the construction site tremble. Feeling as if the place was coming down any second. You looked down at the gaping hole ready to swallow you whole. – “Don’t… don’t look down Y/n.” – Peter said with a clenched expression.

He felt his hand sweat underneath his suit, hoping it wouldn’t lose his grip on you. The construction site shook again, trembling and breathing as it disturbed the peace. Peter and you bounced a bit trying to stay steady. – “Peter!” – you called out wanting him to look at you. Peter was panting, holding onto you with every might. He looked down at you seeing the fear in your eyes. Yet there was also something else hiding in your eyes. Acceptance? Peter felt his hand slip in yours, making him groan loud. It made your feet dangle more knowing he couldn’t hold you any longer

You knew as good as anyone that Peter couldn’t save the both of you. It was him or you. It was an easy choice to make. The world needed spiderman, but the world didn’t need Y/n Y/l/n. It was an easy choice. You or him. You slowly closed your eyes, squeezing them gently shut as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Peter groaned again as he felt his grip falter on you. – “I’ll… I’ll figure something out Y/n.” – Peter said looking around to see how he was going to get out of here.

“I have to!” – Peter shouted at himself as you slowly opened your eyes once more. – “Peter I love you.” – you said making him look down at you. His eyes widened finally seeing the meaning in your eyes. You opened your hand, letting it lean back so his grip faltered.

Your hand slipped out of his as you descended into the abyss. – “No!” – Peter shouted releasing his web. You were falling. Peter diving after you, reaching his hand out to you. A web shot out aiming at you in the hopes of catching you. Your eyes were glossy from the held in tears. The wind catching you like hands trying to ease your fall. Peter’s web reached and attached itself to your stomach. He called it out trying to lift you up but the ground was reaching faster. Faster then he could’ve pulled you up. Your back smacked against the hard floor, bouncing off. It was fast. Quicker than falling asleep. Red crimes blood staining the hard floor. Peter landed beside you, picking you up carefully. For his pain could never be healed.

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“Just think of Peter!” – you called out slightly annoyed. – “Okay, okay.” – Ned replied jumpy as you were making him nervous. – “Just hold on.” – he added moving away from you. MJ sighed loud with a shake of her head. – “I need to concentrate for this.” – he told you. – “Then concentrate.” – you answered bitsy. MJ got up grabbing you by the shoulders. – “Give him some space.” – she said pulling you backwards away from Ned. You surrendered holding your hands up. – “I’ll won’t say a thing.” – you told her as MJ sat you down. – “Here have a cookie.” – she slid the tiny plate with cookies closer to you.

Cookies Ned’s grandma had made. You didn’t want to accept one as MJ took one and forced it into your hand. With one stern glance of her, she forced you to remain silent and eat it. Ned wiggled his shoulders to prepare himself like a boxer would before entering the ring. He moved his fingers in front of him, closing his eyes. – “Think of Peter Parker. Think of Peter Parker.” – he mumbled to himself. Slowly little orange flickers appeared in the midst of his grandma’s living room. MJ’s eyes widened as the orange sparks increased. Tumbling in a spiralling way as they grew wider.

Creating an opening. Your eyes widened as well making you drop your cookie out of shock. The portal opened more as you could look into an alleyway. A figure unclear. – “Peter! Hey Peter!” – Ned called out. The figure turned around pointing confused at himself. – “Peter come’ on!” – Ned urged not knowing how long he could open this portal. The figure approached jumping through the portal. – “It worked.” – MJ said looking at spiderman. The spiderman looked from Ned to MJ, then his eyes fell on you. It made him take off his mask, hoping his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Ned and MJ gasped loud. – “Who are you?” – Ned asked loud. It drew spiderman’s attention away from you. – “I’m Peter.” – he said friendly. – “No, we are looking for Peter… Peter Parker.” – MJ stated looking suspiciously at him. – “My name is Peter Parker.” – his gaze going back to you. MJ furrowed her brows looking back at you confused. – “No, our Peter is spiderman.” – Ned addressed. – “I am spiderman.” – Peter replied looking briefly at Ned. MJ grabbed a bagel throwing at Peter.

Peter furrowed his brows, moving his hands away, gesturing why. – “I wanted to test your spider tingle.” – she told him. – “I have the spider tingle just not for bread.” – he told her. You snorted loud finding it very funny. Hearing you laugh made Peter’s face light up. – “We summoned the wrong Peter.” – Ned said out loud making you get up. You brushed past MJ and Ned coming over to Peter.

You started circling around Peter taking a close look at him. When you came to the front and your eyes met, you smiled sheepishly. – “Hi.” – you said softly. – “Hi…” – Peter replied with a saddened smile. You lifted his arm up, going underneath it as you examined his suit. Went around his back to the side, taking his other arm. You faced his palm up checking his spider webs.

You pressed on it accidently gluing your fingers to his device. You chuckled sheepishly. – “Sorry.” – you spoke. Peter smiled till his smile faltered having been brought back to a memory. He remembered when you had done the exact same thing once. He pulled the web of your fingers, freeing you. – “He seems real enough to me.” – you told MJ and Ned. Peter who had put his mask between his teeth, raised his arms in a way of telling MJ and Ned he was telling the truth. He pulled his mask out of his mouth with a smile. MJ still had her suspicion on him. – “Don’t mind MJ, she is a bit untrusting towards people.” – you told Peter.

“That’s okay.” – Peter answered almost saying your name. It almost blurted out so naturally he had missed saying it. Ned took a deep breath. – “Alright attempt number two.” – he prepared himself again for another go. Peter stepped aside joining your side. He watched Ned swirl his hand in a circle to open another portal. – “I’m Y/n.” – you told him making him look back at you. – “I know…” – he whispered saddened. You quirked up your eyebrow. Peter kept staring at you, unable to grasp that you were standing here beside him.

If he could, he would’ve grabbed you and kissed you like his life depended on it. It hurt, hurt being so vividly reminded of the loss of you in his world. It felt like a blessing that he got to speak to you again, yet it felt bittersweet knowing you were from somewhere else. A different earth. – “So uhm…” – Peter began half watching Ned’s attempts to open another portal. – “Peter… your Peter are you… his…” – Peter felt ridiculous and silly for even asking it.

He just wanted to know if his alternative Peter was yours. You picked up on it, laughing loud. – “Oh no, I’m just a friend. MJ is Peter’s girlfriend.” – you nudged with your head at MJ. – “Okay…” – he whispered out with a saddened smile. A new portal opened as a second person walked out, claiming to be Peter Parker as well. MJ sighed disappointed as Ned could only chuckle awkwardly.

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“Can the spiderman come out to play?” – all three Peter’s turned their head at the familiar voice. Green Goblin riding his hoverboard as he unleashed his green bombs. They were coming towards the building aiming for Dr. Strange. Doc Oc’s attached arms grabbed them out of the air, protecting Dr. Strange. They exploded in his metal grip. Stephen gasped when Green Goblin flew by, grabbing the cube from him.

Peter, the Peter from this earth turned his head in shock. Doc Oc flung a metallic arm at him, taking a hold of the hoverboard. Green Goblin was being held in place making him look surprised back. Strange flung a whip to Green Goblin taking back the cube. It hovered between his hands as he sighed relieved. Green Goblin turned snapping off one of Doc Oc’s arms. Doc Oc cursed in pain with frustration. The cube slowly turned in Stephan’s hand as all three Peter’s widened their eyes.

All seeing the green bomb ball inside the cube. – “Strange no!” – Peter one shouted holding his hand out. The bomb exploded releasing the magic inside it with blasts as two spheric rings blasted through the building. The entire building shook as it made you stumble out of balance, knocking into Ned. Ned, MJ and you were a few levels below, unaware of what was happening up there. The heavy shield destined for the statue of liberty released from it’s position.

With a heavy weight it scorched a way down the building. Breaking everything in it’s wake. The platform you were on shook immensely. Even shifted as you lost your balance. Making you stumble backwards as your arms flayed around for any balance. You tipped over the edge with a loud scream. Ned unable to grab you in time as he clutched onto a pipe, nearly falling down himself.

Your scream was hearable till the top. Making all three Peter’s look up with worry. Peter, Peter three was the first one to react. His scream deafened out as he leaped off the building. Not again. Why was he tormented like this again? Having to relive the moment he lost you. Your hands grabbing for any support. Peter dived down getting pulled back to the memory of where he had seen you fall before. The way you had shown acceptance in your eyes.

Yet your eyes were different. Full of fear. Only fear, no acceptance. He came at you with speed, determination on his mind. Not again. No more he would let you fall. He opened his arms, wrapping them tightly around you as the impact made you twirl in the air. Peter shot out a web as it stuck to a metal bar. His falling slowed down as he landed swiftly on his feet with you in his arms.

Shocked you were panting. Thinking you might have been done for it. Peter was panting too, looking quickly at you. – “Are… are you okay?” – he asked. You nodded vigorously, keeping your hands around his neck. – “Yeah… I’m okay.” – you breathed out shakily. Peter felt himself tear up. – “Are… are you okay?” – you asked seeing how emotional he had become. He nodded with a saddened face. – “I am now…” – he answered letting his forehead rest against yours. He set you down on the ground, holding you by your waist.

Knowing how shaky you still are from the fall. Peter sobbed loud, wrapping his arms tightly around you. – “I caught you. I caught you Y/n.” – he said making you hug him firmer. – “You did.” – you whispered to him, leaving a kiss against his cheek. Peter pulled himself a bit back from the hug, wiping some hair out of your face. He chuckled out a smile between his sobs seeing you alive in his arms.

You kissed Peter again on the cheek, feeling as if you had known him your entire life. Your kiss felt bittersweet as he knew he couldn’t keep you forever. You weren’t from his earth so he couldn’t bring you back. Peter tilted your head leaving a kiss on your forehead. – “Stay out of sight and save.” – he said giving you a slight nudge into a direction. – “I will.” – you told him, going into hiding.

Peter looked back at you, wishing he could keep you, but he couldn’t. His feelings for you had never died out. It hurt, yet it hurt good that he was able to love you a little longer. Hang onto you that little longer to be able to forgive himself. If he could he would take you with him. Knowing you were save on another earth pleased him. Yet he would do anything to try and find a way to be reunited with you again. Even if it meant dying in the process. He couldn’t live without you. You were his entire world.

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arbitrarykiwi · 26 days ago

Note

heyyy can i request some nam-gyu fluff…or some maybe angst…😏😏😏

Illumoria

Illumoria- the realization that every person has hidden parts of themselves. a light they rarely share

I DID NAWT FORGET ABOUT YOU ANON! I had this cooking up since you sent it in and it literally just spiraled. This had me struggling in the best way possible. I’ve said before, angst is not my strong suit- I cannot do a cheating trope I’m too much of a ween. I don’t do well writing toxic relationships- again because I’m too much of a ween and a sucker for a happy endings. So getting this, angst to fluff?! Oh yeah we could work with that. 😏😏

I worked so, so hard so I could post this!! Today (30th) is my birthday and I worked mad hard this past week to get this finished so I could celebrate with y’all!! I wanted to give yall a wee gift. So enjoy this long ass request that turned into a full on one shot fic. 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Warnings: 18+ , drug dealing , slow burn , gun violence , physical violence (not committed by NG or reader) , small fight scene (bad drug deal) , more drug dealing , drug usage , did I say slow burn , mentions of sex , drug usage , roommate trope lmao , Nam-Gyu being a dick , Bonnie/clyde like trope , probably more , read at your own risk

Everyday you ask yourself why you answered a random ad on the web for a roommate. You know at the time it was because the rant was cheap and it was a close commute to your work- but now? Now, you doubt those small benefits make up for what you’re dealing with- your fuck ass roommate.

His name was Nam-Gyu. You didn’t accept the offer blindly, you looked him up to make sure he wasn’t some serial killer. You found his social media. He didn’t post a lot but you found out he was a club promoter at some club, enjoyed weed (based on the many pictures of it in his feed), and was friends with some purple haired rapper. He also wasn’t bad looking, he had strong features, longer hair and dark eyes.

So with all that combined and the looming threat of higher rent- you weighed your options and took your chances and responded to the ad.

It started out okay, you would hardly talk to each other. Your days seemed to work out to where when he was leaving for work, you were coming home; you two hardly crossed paths. Every so often when you’d be out late, your schedule shifting, you’d catch him in the kitchen or in the hallway- exchanging nods and glances of acknowledgment.

It started as little things, dishes in the sink that you knew you didn’t place or loud music that he’d play when he’d come home from work to shower at 4am- things that drove you mad but you gave him grace, working as a club promoter couldn’t be easy.

He also found himself getting irritated by you. He really hoped some laid back dude would answer his ad for a roommate- not some office working princess. You seemed so put together, like you had your life in order. You left at the same time, 6:15am to go to work, at your (what he presumed to be) an office job, and came home around 12am. And from the glimpses he’s caught of your room, you were organized. Maybe he shouldn’t hate you for redeeming qualities but the face you were so much better than him pissed him off.

He hated that he could smell your shampoo and body wash hours after you had ended your shower. He loathed how he could hear the switch in your ‘professional’ voice and your ‘regular’ voice through the walls when you’d switch from a work call to some other call. He despised how sometimes when you would cook he could smell it from his room (it smelled so fucking good but he would never admit it).

But as the months passed you two were the worst possible roommates. You and him never got along, always butted heads, and seemingly hated each other. You two couldn’t be more different from each other. Well…he seemed to hate you. He began to make your life a living hell (so in turn you had to hate him).

When you’d turn the heat down, waking up covered in sweat, he’d bust out of his room-some how hearing you click the thermostat and come out to yell at you about how he pays the most of the utilities (because he’s the one that racks it up the most). You not being a docile person always fought back. And he hated that.

When he would cook in the kitchen he would banish you from not only the kitchen but from the whole common area of the house. He’d say he hated that you’d watch him like some begging puppy. You could stay out in the living room but he would make it known he hated it with annoying, childish huffs and whispered insults under his breath. So you just resorted to going to your room.

When you would shower he would make it a habit to run his dirty clothes in the laundry, making sure that the shower water would run cold during your time in the bathroom. Nothing could replace the joy the sound of your squeak of surprise from down the hall would bring him when the washer would start- the water in the bathroom turning ice cold.

He hated how your music would clash with his through the walls as you did whatever you did in your room. You hated how he seemed to NEVER put his shoes by the front door where the shoe rack was but drop them somewhere in the middle of the apartment. He despised how you would come home making so much noise, those stupid fucking keychains jingling obnoxiously against your bag as you walked to your room. You hated how him and his stupid friends would stay up till 4-5am blasting shitty rap and railing lines.

It took a couple months for things to bubble over…but eventually you guys would argue. A snide comment on Nam-Gyu’s end here, a bitchy remark on your end there- and suddenly it ends with both your bedroom doors slamming.

There was also one time he stumbled into the apartment on something, what it was you never found out, but, he busted through the door- damn near taking it off the hinges. You remembered you nearly jumped out of your skin at the time, practically choking on the cup noodles you were eating in the kitchen. “You know how to use a door right?” You harmlessly joke, it was lighthearted…okay, maybe it was definitely sarcastic and ended with a scoff but it wasn’t hostile!

“Who the fuck are you talking to, bitch?” He snarls at you from the door as he slams it shut. The force vibrates the apartment, you can hear the dishes clanking in the cabinets. Your eyebrows furrow, immediately you’re shifting into a person that he’s never seen- if he was the tiniest bit more sober he might have been thrown off.

“The fuck is your issue?!” You’re seething, putting your noodles down and coming out of the kitchen striding across the living room to face him properly. When you’re closer to him you realize that he’s fucked up, not just drunk or weed high….no he’s on harder shit. You knew he smoked weed, hell on the rare occasion you two were docile and cordial, you’ve even smoked on the balcony together. You also knew he wasn’t impartial to pills or even doing lines, you’ve seen the remnants though you’ve never seen him do it. But this- this was something different.

“My issues is I have to come home to a raging cunt of a roommate every god damn night.” He says lowly, throwing his keys down onto the coffee table and kicking off his shoes. He kicks them off so hard he’s denting the wall by the floor.

“Woah, woah.” You’re hissing lowly, stalking up to him. He’s so far gone but he’s surprised you’re standing up to him, getting in his face and not shying away. For some reason that pisses him off more. “You’re the one who put the fucking ad out because you needed help with rent.” You growl, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

Maybe if he was the least bit fucking blitzed he would have asked you about your split eyebrow and bruised knuckles but he genuinely couldn’t see straight. “Okay and? Didn’t expect to get a smartass girl answering the ad.” He says shoving his way past you and into the kitchen. When he passes by you can see a bright red spot on his inner arm, near his elbow. Your suspicious are confirmed. Your eyes are widening, and your mouth hangs open a bit. Sure he was not the best person, but you knew his job and you knew the shit he had to do to keep it and even make rent (as much as he tried to act mysterious and keep his life hidden).

You watch as he opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. “You sure you need that? Maybe you should get some sleep..” you say, your tone lighter- you’re not even trying to continue the argument- just trying to make sure he’s okay. You have no time to react before he’s throwing the bottle to the ground in a fit of rage. It shatters on the tile of the kitchen, the foamy liquid spreading across the laminate.

You jump, the action startling you. It was nowhere near you, you’re across the house still, near the entrance, but you have never seen him like this. “I am I grown fucking man. I don’t need my roommate being my fucking mommy.”

You look at him for a moment, just shocked and unsure of what to say. When you finally find your words, all you can muster is a “Go fuck yourself.” You’re throwing your hands up and walking to your room. Your door slams behind you, rattling the dishes in the cabinets like they did when he entered the apartment. This time he jumps, the sound and vibration somewhat snapping him out of his drug induced haze.

When you wake up in the morning to go to work, his room door is closed, signaling he’s home and likely asleep. You want to be angry and just leave, walk out the front door and just go to work- but you can’t. You have to at least check on him. So you tip toe over to his door and turn the knob, pushing it open.

He’s sprawled out on his bed, still in the clothes that he came home in- but he’s snoring. He’s breathing. He’s alive. You notice how his face twitches and he turns away from the door, the extra light from the hallway flooding into his room and annoying his sleeping self. Content with seeing he’s at least alive, you slowly close the door back.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and continue down the hallway to the kitchen. The beer bottle shards and the beer was cleaned up on the floor, the evidence of his outburst nowhere to be found. At least he cleaned up after himself.

When he was certain you left for your little office job for the day, Nam-gyu snuck out of his bedroom. He felt like death personified. His head hurt, the room was spinning every time he took a step and he was certain that if he looked in one place for too long whatever he was looking at would start to move….whatever fucking drug he did he was not doing it again.

He admittedly didn’t want to do it…but his job was riding on it. The look of his boss, the one telling him to take the offer from the VIP or else his position would be cut, was enough to make him do it. The ‘bonus’ was not only a surprise (he hardly ever got something ‘extra’…he guessed his boss became more generous on whatever the fuck he took) it wasn’t nearly enough compensation for what he went through….

For what he made you go through.

It was just enough to cover his rent for the month, barely and it kept him his job…that’s how much it cost him to do some drug he had no idea what it was. Wow, stand up person he was. Stumbling, he makes it to the kitchen, hands slamming against the cabinets desperately to open it and get a glass for water. When he grabs the glass and slumps over the kitchen sink the trash can is in his direction field of view. He can see the shards of the bottle he broke. The amber stained glass hard to miss against the black plastic of the trash bag.

He groans, his brain pounding has memories of the night prior rush back to memory. He hardly remembers coming back out late in the middle of the night, rather early in the day- before you even got up for work- to clean up the mess. He knew he wasn’t the best roommate, hell…he wasn’t the best person…but whatever came over him that night; you didn’t deserve that.

And who could forget the time, not even a week after the huge fight you two had- a knock sounds at your closed bedroom door late at night. You know only Nam-gyu could be the one knocking at this hour, the apartment is locked up and he definitely didn’t have anyone over, but, it confuses you as to why. He never comes to you for anything.

It’s three soft knocks, like Nam-Gyu is testing to see if you’re awake. You never slept good, always in and out of sleep. So when your half-asleep body focuses in on the soft sound, you’re awake immediately. You sit up in bed and look towards your door. Maybe you dreamt it? Fuck, maybe that goodnight blunt kicked your ass more than you thought it did.

One more soft knock- like he’s testing to really make sure you were asleep if you weren’t going to answer. Nam-Gyu sighs. He’s so glad you didn’t answer- you were asleep. He begins to turn on his heels about to get on with his scheduled meeting.

The creak of the door knob makes his body turn to ice. He freezes awkwardly, half turned away from the door. He’s so still, like a kid that thinks if they are completely frozen, they’re invisible.

“Nam-gyu?” Your tired voice cuts through the still air of the apartment like a knife. Okay….so looks like freezing in place didn’t work.

Nam-gyu turns on his heels to face you again, an almost bashful look on his face as his dark eyes meet yours in the hallway. He coughs, trying to fix his dry throat to no avail, “h-hey…uh…thought you were asleep…”

His words fumble out of his mouth in choked, embarrassed syllables. His tone is hushed, maybe if he talks low enough you’ll think you’re dreaming. He wants to kick himself when he realizes how pathetic his words come out. He can even see the way your eyebrows knit together in confusion and shock as you try and wake yourself up more.

“I…well I was.” Nam-Gyu cringes at your response. Of course he ruined your sleep by knocking. He made his situation so much harder. “Yeah…sorry about that…” He drawls out.

Nam-gyu coughs awkwardly “So…um…I’m gonna have someone over-“ You immediately scoff, “Dude, I don’t care…get your dick wet. You don’t have to tell me about it.” You say surprised, that’s the only reason you can think he’s coming to tell you that, a ‘hey stay the fuck in your room I’m trying to get laid’ thing. You’ve lived with him for months and he’s never done this…come to think about it you’re not sure if he’s ever brought a girl home…but this is strange.

Nam-gyu seems to falter and look at you dumbly. He shakes his head violently, hands thrown up dismissively, “N-no it’s not like that. Just…stay in your room and try not to make too much noise m’kay?”

His voice is jittery and anxious but it’s also eerily calm- like whatever he was about to deal with was something he’s done time and time again. “Uhhh….yeah…sure…” You nod, still half asleep and delirious. “Wha…what is going on?” You mumble, eyebrows knitted together as you try to stare at him in the dark hallway.

He seems to realize how anxious he appears, he fixes his posture and changes his tone. Clearing his throat he speaks, “None of your business, just stay the fuck in your room okay.” He spits, glaring at you. His hand brushes past your waist, nudging you out of the way of the door. He grabs your door knob and slams the door shut.

Fumbling backwards into your room you stare at your closed door. Did he seriously just slam your door? Slam it backwards?! What the fuck was going on.

You obviously end up staying awake, ear pressed to your closed door as you try your best to hear anything that happens outside your room. You can hear a knock at the door and Nam-Gyu walking down the hallway, away from your door.

You hear the telltale sound of the deadbolt on the front door unlocking, the creak of the door opening, and muffled introductions being made and then the door shutting.

“Yeah man…I told you that I was getting the money I swear, just a couple hundred behind.” Nam-gyu’s voice is hushed and uneasy- you can tell he’s trying to keep whatever was going on, on the down low. He didn’t want you to hear.

You’re nosy though.

You shift more, nearly trying to make your face melt through the wood of your bedroom door. “You sure didn’t seem so scared when you were borrowing the 6 bands.”

The voice that answers Nam-Gyu is rough, it’s louder, obviously not caring of the idea of ‘quiet’. “I’m fucking serious, if you don’t have the money I’m going to fucking-“

“Okay okay! Jesus fucking Christ, just be quiet will you. I have a fucking-“ Nam-Gyu cuts himself off, he doesn’t want to tell this loan shark he has a roommate- just someone else to get involved with his bullshit. Nam-gyu chocks it up to him being strategic, he doesn’t need anyone else meddling in his affairs- but deep down he knows it’s to protect you. The last thing he needs to see is your pretty face hung over him while he gets the shit beat out of him.

“I have fucking neighbors. Walls are thin. You wouldn’t want them hearing this would you.” Nam-Gyu awkwardly corrects himself, hoping, praying, that this intruder wouldn’t question him further about his awkward grammar.

“You said you would have the money” this time, the unknown voice is matching Nam-gyu’s in volume.

Nam-gyu’s hushed panicked voice cuts off the other, unfamiliar voice, “I don’t have the money okay…” a sharp breath rings through the apartment, like he’s waiting to get hit for saying the truth. Moments pass with no sign of altercation, Nam-gyu lets out a breath, “I promise I will get it to you end of the month, with interest even!” He says, pleading with the stranger in your home.

“End of the month. 40% interest. All paid in cash.”

You assume Nam-Gyu gives some kind of nod of affirmation or something silent to show he agreed because the stranger scoffs and lets out a gruff ‘good’.

“But you’re also so fucking stupid if you think I’m leaving empty handed.”

Your breath hitches, it all happens so fast- you hear a sharp smack, a large thud against the wall then the telltale sign of a gun cocking.

Your hand hovers over the door, getting ready to say fuck it and deal with whatever the fuck was going on inside the apartment you paid rent for, but the scuffle subsides just as soon as it started. You hear footsteps stomping away. Presumably Nam-gyu’s footsteps following. Then the front door closing and locking. Stepping back from your bedroom door you let out a shaky breath, hand still hovering over the door knob as if going out there would do anything.

Nam-gyu’s bedroom door slamming shut, vibrating your bedroom walls answers any conflicting thoughts you had- he’s in his room so it only made sense for you to stay in yours.

The day after, you could see Nam-gyu had a busted lip. You wanted to say nothing about it- you’ve lived with him for long enough, you know he was not the type to want to be ‘checked on’. You really did try, but the really sketchy random man that Nam-Gyu let into your apartment, with a gun, had seemingly beat him up- you had to ask.

At an odd time in the week, when both of you happened to cross paths in the kitchen, you genuinely had no ability to stop yourself. Up close you could see not only was his lip busted, his cheek and temple were bruised.

“Did you get fucking pistol whipped!?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself. You’re slamming your cup noodles on the counter and gawking at his face.

Nam-gyu’s eye visibly twitches at your words, his hands that were washing the bowl he just used, clench around the cheap plastic- warping and bending the material. “Mind your fucking business.” He shakes his head, the hair that was once tucked behind his ears falls over his face, shielding the bruises from your point of view.

His response comes through clenched teeth, like he’s holding himself back- giving you the benefit of the doubt- maybe you’ll listen and mind your own like he wanted.

“Mind my business?!?” You scoff, whipping your head to the side to face him. “You have any idea how fucking sketchy that was last night?! You coming to tell me to stay in my room like some scared deer? I fucking heard a pistol cocking, and now I see you messed up and bruised?!”

The comparison of him to a scared deer makes Nam-Gyu practically throw the dish back into the sink, hands coming to grasp at the counter. “I told you to mind your business. Seriously, I don’t need you up my ass. It’s my fucking job. I don’t need you worrying about me.” When he finishes speaking, he furrows his eyebrows, how the hell did you know the distinct sound of a gun cocking?

“Okay, your busted fucking face aside,” Nam-Gyu cringes at your words, you can see the insult he’s getting ready to throw back at you but you speak again, “I pay rent here too, and you let in some stranger who very obviously had a gun and who may or may not have pistol whipped you.”

That seemed to be all Nam-Gyu could take, and it wasn’t even much, you just seemed to set him off. “You answered the fucking ad. You don’t like it? Move the fuck out, I genuinely don’t care, it would be better with you not here. You have no idea what it’s like to do what I do, keep your mouth shut and let me do my damn job or pack your shit.”

With that he’s storming away. You’re left there in the kitchen, mouth hung open as you’re trying to process the interaction you just had.

Neither of you mentioned that night in the days and months to come, you both acted like it never happened.

The tension between you two didn’t change one bit. Since then his view on you seemed to change. He seemed to hate you more than he did before- so in turn you hated him more.

He seemed to think you were some prissy ‘better than you’ girl. He remembered he came to that conclusion rather quick after that one night. It all happened one day after you came home from work. It was the first time he got any idea of your work life. Your schedules often differed so he hardly ever saw you. And when he did you pissed him off too much for him to care about your intricacies.

You worked a boring office job that had you practically pulling your hair out but you had to dress all formal. It was probably fancy and paid well. Hell, you probably have gone on company vacations all expenses paid on the regular….that’s what Nam-Gyu believed you did.

There was one night, you came home late, talking on the phone with your boss about some analytics and statistics for the company, getting rather annoyed that you still have to deal with his even on your off time. You’re spouting words he can’t even conceptualize a definition of and practically throwing your winter jacket on the hook. It was hard enough that the metal of the rack vibrates and makes a ringing sound.

He watched as you kicked off your heels in the entry way and shrugged off your blazer off. You didn’t even realize Nam-Gyu was in the living room right in front of the door, frozen with his nose hovering over a fresh line of white powder that laid on the coffee table. You end the phone call and turn around. When you see him you both look at each other wide eyed. You could see the way his eyes narrowed even so slightly. You didn’t have the capacity to deal with this situation so recent into your tenure as roommates and you’re far too tired. Also, who were you to judge- you weren’t a saint yourself. So you quickly saunter off to your room like an uneasy fawn in your dress pants and silk blouse, blazer hungover your shoulder.

You’re running off to your room to avoid a fight with him like normal, you never stay to talk with him anyways! Quite frankly, he was miserable to be around. He was a dick and had little to no people skills. But when you got off the horrendous phone call with your boss and walk into your apartment to see your roommate railing blow off your coffee table….you just want to go to bed and crack open the fresh pack of weed gummies you got- hoping to relax after a long day.

But he takes your hasty and awkward departure as you thought you were better than him. Such a pretty, innocent thing all dressed up in expensive clothes (they were thrifted) and heels- coming back to the apartment from a cute office job where you’re probably the heartthrob of the office making a comfortable living (you weren’t and you were barely scraping by)- to see him, a lowlife club promoter who gets paid minimum wage, who can hardly pay his share of the rent, railing lines off the coffee table you bought for the living room. You also saw him come home that one night when he tried the new injectable drug for a bit of extra cash at the club….Yeah, you definitely think you’re so much better than him. You had one over him, he knew little to nothing about you and yet you just saw him dealing with a huge vice of his on more than one occasion….yeah, no, he didn’t like that. It just made him hate you more.

The thing was, you weren’t the overly perfect, prissy, princess image that he crafted his mind- you were far from it. Admittedly the office job was a front, it paid like shit and it was at some sleazy loan shark firm, you were just forced to dress in overly formal attire to look more ‘inviting and appealing’ to the unsuspecting souls who walked in the door…it was a front for your real source of income. Drug dealing. That was what you hid from him. He seemed to have no idea about your side hustle, no matter how many times you’ve come home beat up and bruised after you were jumped or were involved in a deal gone bad- he was none the wiser.

You weren’t proud of it and you never intended to get involved with that scene but one too many months of not having enough rent or getting evicted when you were too behind on payments; you had to do something. The opportunity fell in your hand when you went out one night with a group of friends to some shady club.

Admittedly, you were the odd one of the group, you weren’t too keen on dancing on random men like your friends were, you were side eyeing any man that tried to get near you and you looked annoyed you were even there (you were, you wanted to go home), and you didn’t buy any of the overpriced drinks from the bar, and you had a neon ‘guest’ band meaning you didn’t even pay the cover to get in; someone else did- so maybe that’s why your boss scouted you out. You seemed like you could handle your own- you could. You weren’t a violent person but you were always down to fight if it got down to it. You’d protect your friends and throw a strategic punch square in a grown mans jaw if you needed to. And you were down on your luck, you needed money.

So when you left the bar, your friend’s long gone; he approached you. Of course, at first you were uneasy by a grown man who appeared to be in his 50’s approaching you. But with some slick talk, speaking to you like a wise Italian grandfather with a fortune to pass down to you, and a rough estimate of what you could be making- you accepted the job. Making drug runs for this man and his ring, dealing to people that he didn’t feel like going to or dealing with. Of course it was shitty, dangerous work…but you were desperate. You wanted to get enough to allow you to quit your other job, get enough to keep you steady for a bit while you find better work…..that was also 4 years ago.

Nam-gyu knew none of that though, it wasn’t exactly something you were proud of. You most certainly weren’t going to tell him either. Doing the drugs and being the dealer are two different things…as much as you despised what you were doing, you made enough money to keep you afloat and that’s all that you cared about for the time being. You knew the guys you worked for weren’t lacing the stuff you sold so it made you feel a little better…you still didn’t like doing it. But..It was better than where you were. So you continued to do it.

Nam-Gyu was always far too drunk, high, sleep deprived, or a combination of all three to ever notice the black eye you had spontaneously gotten or the bruised and split knuckles you came home with far too often. It was not an easy job. You were intertwined with some shady people, directed to go off to bad places late at night by yourself- you had to defend yourself. And you knew how to do it well! That’s what kept you alive and kept you in business.

It was a side of you that you only felt shame for, a dirty secret that was quite literally the only thing that could keep you afloat in this economy. That should say something in itself, insight some sort of worldwide change to make it where you weren’t driven to do this, it wasn’t some dream land though; it was real life.

Recently, your boss had given you the details on a couple deals that could set you up for a long while. Two deals that could even get you out of the drug dealing ring for good! Of course, the bigger the deal the more dangerous and the more risky….however, the higher reward was far too perfect to pass up.

When your boss texted you with a location and a time- you responded promptly. After putting on some jeans, a tight fitted top and a jacket, you’re headed out the door and hauling a taxi to get to where you were told to be. Club Pentagon.

You were directed by your boss through text message to use a fake name once in the club, walk to the back of the club to the VIP rooms, give the fake name and you would be led to the buyer. Off rip, you were warned to keep your sarcasm to a minimum, to be polite and kiss ass- this was a big deal that your boss could not lose. The price of the product was firm, it always has been, but you knew the game- make them think they can bargain or are already get a bargain to get in good with the clientele.

Wanting the pay out, the money that could get you out of this job and the shitty office job you have- you comply, enter into the club, and maneuver your way to the back of the club. The VIP area was lit up by a bright neon sign that nearly made you have a headache. You walk over to the attendant standing at the lux velvet ropes that separated you from a dimly lit hallway lined with multiple doors on either side.

“Name?” The attendant says looking down at you with a skeptical look. You’re thankful you took the couple minutes to remember the fake name your boss gave you because the man behind the velvet ropes that held the list of names was a hulking older man who was downright terrifying to look at. You relay the fake name expertly like it was the name you were given at birth.

The bouncer looks over the list he has in his hands, finds the name you relayed and nods. “Alright, you can follow me.” The bouncer’s demeanor changed, he’s more serious- scrutinizing you and looking you up and down with a threatening stare. When he turns to lead you down the dim hallway he makes a show of lifting his shirt up on his hip to flash the shiny gun that’s holstered there.

You swallow thickly, it’s nothing you haven’t done before but the proper place of the deal makes you uneasy. It isn’t an open area in the middle of the street, it isn’t some rundown house where you know the individuals who live there have nothing but shitty knives- this is the big deal.

Step after step down the hallway, more armed men join you in a makeshift entourage that escorts you down this back hallway of the club. You begin to wonder if you’re even in the same building- turn after turn you’re believing that there’s no way this hallway could possibly be attached to the club.

Even if you wanted to stop- to turn back now the group of armed club workers prevent you from turning around, they’re so close to you that even if you side step a centimeter off, you’re bumping into one of them and being shoulder checked back in line.

After what seems like forever, you’re brought to a room- on either side of the closed door another guard. You’re led into the small room, it was very obviously a room used for private dances.

You weren’t graced with a stripper, you were met with multiple men seated on a sofa with even more bodyguards around them. Seated in the middle of the couch was a man who looked to be the buyer- expensive suit, gaudy chains and rings layered with diamond and gemstones that are worth more than 6 months rent for one crystal that inlays the jewelry.

Straightening your posture and putting on a brave face, wanting nothing more than to get this deal over with so you can get your cut of the money, you nod politely to the man.

“Didn’t think you’d be the one he’d send.” The man says, eyeing you up and down like you’re a meal ready to be eaten- you hate it.

“You told him to send his best man for the deal, here I am.” You say simply, keeping your hands stuffed in your jacket pocket to hide your trembling fingers. You’ve done hundreds of deals, thousands even, but this was so much different. This was the big league. This was large amounts of high priced substances going from one kingpin to another.

With a scoff, the man motions to a brief case laid on the table, one of the guards opens the case with a click. Bundles of money sit in the briefcase, pressed and pristine. The client, the man who quite literally holds your life in his hands at the moment, nods to you.

Taking a step forward, you eye the cash, “that’s not what was agreed upon.” It’s easy to tell, you know what this large amount is supposed to look like, and what was in this small briefcase was not it. You look back up to the man, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Ahhh, smart one.” He says mockingly, talking down on you with an evil undertone. “Who would have thought.” He jokes, elbowing the people next to him to try and get them in on the shitty joke he was making. “The rest of the money should be coming shortly…what kind of man would have this much money readily available, darling.”

The name makes you cringe, the whole interaction is making you feel more uneasy by the second.

The room shifts when the door opens, everyone standing to attention, “here’s the money boss.”

Your eyes widen, you can only see the back of the person as they walk in that room- but you know that voice. And when the person who entered turns, backpack slung over the shoulder. You know you’re fucked.

Nam-Gyu.

He seems just as shocked, if not more than you to see you out of all people standing in the room for one of the biggest drug deals his boss was about to complete. He honestly thinks he’s hallucinating.

The views you two had of each other collapse in on themselves like exploding stars. It’s so fast and violent that you feel like you might throw up. Sure you knew Nam-Gyu wasn’t the greatest guy, you knew he had to work somewhere that was open overnights- but you would have never thought he would be working at the club and for the sleazy, shitty, man you’re doing business with. And Nam-Gyu? Well he was fucking dumbfounded. He saw you as some holier than thou office worker who was early to rise early to bed. He thought you were some good girl who would never end up in a place like this.

Yet here you both were.

“Is there a problem?” The boss says, glaring at Nam-Gyu who was paused by the doorway eyeing you. He shakes his head, it’s sporadic and anxious like he’s shaking his own surprise out of his head. “Uh no, sorry not at all.” Nam-Gyu responds, hand anxiously gripping at the strap of the backpack that was slung over his shoulder.

The big boss laughs, motioning Nam-Gyu over and taking the backpack from him. “Just partied too hard, hm?! That’s what I like to hear!”

Nam-Gyu laughs, it’s so uneasy and awkward, no one but you seems to notice. His wide eyes stay trained on you as he moves within the room. Like he was told prior to the deal, he takes his place behind the couch.

He tries hard to get rid of the pit that’s forming in his stomach. There’s no fucking way that you were the dealer in this big deal that his boss was talking about for months. The one he knows was a set-up, he was part of the planning!!

Take the backpack, you check the money, and while you’re busy- head down in the cheap bag to count your earnings, the one guard in the back left corner was supposed to take you out. Clean and simple. Something Nam-Gyu had been involved in countless of times, something he had no issue with doing. Fuck, he was the one that was tasked with getting rid of the fucking corpses! He should be completely fine and locked in as Thanos would say.

He oddly starts thinking of Thanos then, about the many times he’s come over and asked about Nam-Gyu’s ‘sexy lil roommate’. He hated when Thanos would call you that, he told himself that it was just him being respectful- Thanos shouldn’t be talking to you like that….but then again when has Nam-Gyu ever cared about being respectful. Thanos would always tell Nam-Gyu that he should make a move, that he obviously has a crush on you. Nam-Gyu would always deny it, brushing him off and inevitably insulting you to make his point.

But now….Thanos assertions were starting to make sense…the longer he spends in this room, knowing that you would take the place of whatever unknown corpse…yeah, he’s going to fucking throw up.

It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to take a bunch of drugs before this either- to his defense he didn’t fucking think it was going to be you in this deal!! He normally could go into this crossfaded and be completely fine but now the sweat on his forehead gets worse and he’s genuinely trying to not vomit.

“Well alright then,” Nam-Gyu’s boss’s voice brings him out from the memory riddled haze he was in, his worried eyes look over to you then to his boss, “As you can see, here’s the rest of the money.” Nam-Gyu’s boss finishes, grabbing the backpack and tossing is unceremoniously to your feet.

You quirk up an eyebrow and scoff, “you’re going to treat me like a dog? I have the deal of a life time for you and you’re treating me like this?” You look back down at the bag, making a show of not moving an inch to pick it up. “Your mother ever teach you manners?”

Nam-Gyu doesn’t know whether to be turned on at your boldness in such a situation or fear for your life- he knows the people he works for all too well. They don’t take kindly to people talking back.

“Oooohh~ feisty. Seems like he picked a good one.”

Nam-Gyu lets out a shuddering breath, thankful that his boss seemed to enjoy your attitude and are getting some sort of praise from his boss. He knows what’s coming, the inevitable plan that will sour the deal but leave the boss of the club with money back in his pocket and some free drugs.

With a raise of one singular finger, the boss motions for one of the guards to pick up the backpack. The large man crosses the room and with an outstretched hand, holds the bag out to you.

You take it, nodding in thanks with a small smirk quirked up at the corners of your lips. “Much better, thank you.” Your fingers fiddle with the zippers of the backpack. Placing a strap of the backpack over one arm, you slide the duffle bag you had off your shoulder and drop it to the table.

You zip it open effortlessly, hovering close by it as you show off the copious amounts of drugs inside. “All here, like you ordered. If you sell this without issue then my boss said he has no problem continuing business.”

Nam-Gyu’s boss inspects the substances packaged in various bags and nods. “Looks good to me, why don’t ya make sure that’s a good enough payout for ya boss there sweetheart.”

When you scoff and go to open the zipper of the bag, Nam-Gyu decides he can’t watch what was to come. He can’t watch you die over some fuck ass drug deal.

He moves quickly, shoulder checking the guard, his coworker, that stood next to him and on holsters the gun hanging on the man’s thigh. With one fluid moment, he’s raising his arm and aiming at the guard in the room that he knew was tasked to kill you.

A crack rips through the room, everyone ducking and beginning to become frantic. Nam-Gyu’s intended target is struck in the leg and drops to the ground.

Instantly the room turns into chaos, the men on the couch hold up right and unholster their weapons. You get pulled into a headlock, gun to your temple as they try to keep you as some sort of hostage for negotiation. Who they’d negotiate with? All you knew was whoever it was on the receiving end of that bargain would most likely let you die over some drugs.

With fluidity that takes your captor off guard, you’re showing his stomach, forcing him back and yanking his own fire arm from his hand. You have no time to celebrate, you’re running back and trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. Nam-Gyu shot one of his own men? Why the fuck would he do that?!! You genuinely have no time to figure it out in this moment.

Bodies are clashing together, fists are flying, there’s definitely blood on the floor and bullets are ricocheting off the walls. At this point it’s so chaotic you’re almost 100% positive some of the guards in the room got confused and have started fighting people on their side. Your eyes land on the door you walked into the room from, you could absolutely make it if you booked it hard enough. But then you see the money that litters the floor- spilled from the backpack that lays on the ground- lost to the chaos of the room.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you bolt to the bag. Sliding on the floor you’re quickly scooping up stray bills into the bag and hauling it over your shoulder. Whipping your head to the door, you plot your escape. Moving to a squatting position you’re propelling yourself upwards and breaking into a sprint.

One stride. Two. Three. You’re nearly there, you can almost reach out to the doorknob.

Pain erupts from the side of your skull, you’re plummeting down to the floor before you can even look at whatever, or rather whoever just hit you. A large weight crushes your stomach, making it hard to breathe. Your vision is hazy and it burns to open your eyes but you have to keep going.

The boss, Nam-Gyu’s boss, the big wig who was supposed to receive the drugs you were ordered to sell is on top of you, one hand on your sternum and the other raised in a fist. You struggle, wiggling your body to try and get him off of you but the weight of a grown man is much more than you hoped for.

The first hit comes down hard, you immediately taste blood and your mind is filled with static. Oddly enough, the only thought that forms is one of Nam-Gyu. He was in the room, started the gunfire and is still probably fighting. You hoped that he got out, you didn’t know why…he was a complete dick to you most times, but you just hoped he was out of this shit show- alive.

You think you may have passed out, maybe gotten a few more hits from the man who had you pinned, you’re not too sure. Your eyes are forced open when someone is practically ripping you from the ground.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not dying on me.” The second Nam-Gyu’s voice fills your ears, you feel like you’ve gotten a second win. You laugh weakly and fall into his arms, gunshots still ringing out in the room. “C’mon!” Nam-Gyu taps lightly at your cheek, waking you up more. “You can fall on me and be all weak later, we gotta get the fuck on!”

“‘M not weak.” You mumble out, standing up straight and wiping the blood from your lip. Nam-Gyu groans and yanks you by your wrist, “Yeah, I know. You definitely aren’t,” he says, voice laced with a weird admiration. He yanks you quickly, you fall instep with him as he ducks and weaves you through people jumping to get you.

You two practically fall through the door, the wood splintering as you barrel out into the dimly lit hallway.

Nam-Gyu has your wrist in an iron grip as he’s pulling you out of the room and down the corridors you came from. He knows if he can at least get you two to the main part of the club- they’ll have to stop shooting. He hopes.

You fumble over your steps as you try to get a hold of the situation, but the way Nam-Gyu is pulling you, you have no option but to keep up with him. Bullets are whizzing past you and each one that flys by, you’re thanking whatever part of the universe that is listing for your pursuers shitty aim.

“C’mon, keep the fuck up.” Nam-Gyu shouts back to you, his voice laced with an anger he truly had no reason to harbor, “they’ve fucking leveled business for less than a shitty drug deal, we’ve got to fucking go!”

“Motherfucker! I’m trying! It’s not my fault you’re 80% legs. I’m well aware that if we stop running we’re going to get shot!” You yell back, way too sarcastic given your situation. If this wasn’t life or death, Nam-Gyu was sure that he would have laughed at your insult.

You’re so lucky he is guiding you, the more you turn down identical hallways, the more you’re not sure where you even are. You’re about to ask if he has any sort of plan when you feel a burning sensation blooming across your shoulder, “Shit-!”

Trying the best you can, you turn to look, blood has started to stain your skin but you can tell it’s not deep, a graze at best- but too close for your liking. “Nam-Gyu! You gotta plan?! They’re fuckin’ gaining on us here…and oh my fucking god!! Are those fucking attack dogs?!”

Your words turn into a desperate tone when you turn back to see some of the men on your trail stop and begin to mess with large collars on three large dogs. The canines were growling and snarling, foaming at the mouth and already jumping at the chance to chase you two like prey.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” Nam-Gyu mutters to himself, this really couldn’t get any worse. They’ve nearly almost hit you, he knows he’s been grazed by the hot metal of a bullet too, and now the fucking dogs- he’s not even sure if you two could make it.

He’s quickly shaking his head of the thought, “Just keep fucking running!”

And you do.

After what seems like too long you and Nam-Gyu practically barrel onto the dance floor of the club. Almost immediately as your feet hit the floor of the main area, the gunfire in your direction ceases. With you two no longer in line of sight and meddling in a sea of club goers, your pursuers also don’t release the attack dogs. There’s no way you’re out of the clear though, they still had bouncers on your ass. You don’t falter, Nam-gyu keeps pulling you through the sea of people.

Nam-Gyu practically shoulder checks the front door open, hand still gripped tight around your wrist and pulling you along with him.

When the night breeze hits you, you’re taking the biggest breath in possible. You want to stop running, your feet are so sore and your body is so tired. Without the threat of being shot, you’re realizing just how bad you got injured within the fight in the room the deal was in. Your head is spinning and your vision is starting to get blurry the longer you keep running.

He doesn’t know why he does it, he should just leave you there on the sidewalk, but he can’t. Something in him is screaming at him to protect you, to take care of you. It’s a split second decision, one that would definitely help both of you in the clear- he yanks you by the wrist closer to him and hauls your tired form onto his back.

You have no energy to protest, the second your feet leave the concrete and you’re weightless, your head is dropping to his shoulder and your eyes are squeezing shut to try and fight off the migraine that’s beginning to form.

You’re woken up from a micro-sleep that you didn’t even realize you had taken when you’re placed down into the seat of a car. You’re jolting awake instantly, not even realizing where you were or who you were with before you fell asleep. You’re waking up about to fight whoever it was that had you in their car.

“Hey, easy! Just trying to get you buckled in…”

Nam-Gyu’s voice makes you settle, your head turning to look outside the door to the individual who was now leaning over and buckling you in the car. Your throat is far too dry to speak, you’re blinking at him like a deer caught in headlights. It’s cute he thinks. He wants to admire you for a moment but he soon hears the back door of the club slam open.

Not taking any chances, he slams the passenger door and is hopping into the drivers seat in under 10 seconds. A shrill screech comes from the tires as you two peel out of the parking lot.

The ride home is silent, yet you could cut the tension with a knife. It’s so tangible you’re afraid it might suffocate you. You try your best not to look over into the drivers seat where you know Nam-Gyu was seated, probably white-knuckling the steering wheel. Your throat is dry, your body is sore, and you’re positive you can taste blood.

The drive back to your shared apartment was horrible, your anxiety stayed through the roof and neither of you spoke a single word. The only sound that resounded throughout the car was the dull hum of the AC and Nam-Gyu gritting his teeth.

He practically spins out when he pulls into the driveway; wheels skidding on the concrete of the driveway in a shrill screech. You want to at least thank him for giving you a ride back (even if he or the situation yall were in didn’t give you much of an option), but Nam-gyu is shifting the car into park and exiting the vehicle quickly. You jump when he slams the door, walking up to the front door without so much as looking back at you.

You scramble to follow him, barely catching the front door with your palm as he walks inside. Quickly, you close and lock the door behind you- dead bolting all the locks and checking them over and over- out of habit or anxiety about one of the people you two just beat and robbed blind coming after you- you weren’t sure. Swallowing thickly, back against the front door as if it was about to be kicked in, you open your mouth to speak. “Look I didn’t mean-“

“Shut up. Just sit down.”

You shut your mouth and glare at Nam-Gyu’s back as he walks to a cabinet in your kitchen, where the first aid kit was. “We need to talk-“

“Not right now we don’t. Sit the fuck down.” Nam-gyu whips his head back to face you, leaning over the counter with a disheveled look across his bruised face. “You’re fucking bleeding.”

Nam-gyu simply states, walking back over to where you stood speechless. He harshly shoves your shoulder, snapping you out of your stupefied trance and pushing you down to a seating position onto the couch behind you.

He doesn’t give you a moment to protest or even a moment to breathe, he’s hovering over you and grabbing your chin in his hand. Tilting your face every which way possible, he examines the extent of your injuries with a dejected look.

“You don’t look any better.”

He can’t help it, your statement makes him let out a dry laugh, it’s quiet and quick, but a laugh not the less. “You don’t know when to stop talking.” Nam-gyu says gruffly as he begins to clean up your wounds.

“I didn’t need your help I had it covered…I’ve done shit like this before you know.” Nam-gyu pauses, looking at you like you have three heads and just told him the sky was green- you have done something like that before?!

It made sense now that he thought about it, you wouldn’t have even been the one to come on behalf of the drug seller if you didn’t have some sort of credibility. The longer he thinks about it, the more he’s pissed. How did he miss this seemingly huge thing about you?! You, out of all people, a fucking drug dealer?! You willingly got into the business when you could have had other options (you didn’t) and put yourself into this danger.

He didn’t know why but the thought made him physically ill- and in change it made him even madder. Why the fuck did he even care?!? He shouldn’t care, you were just his pretty roommate he used to get a break on the rent. You were the prissy girl who would come home and glare at him for smoking in the apartment (you were never glaring, you were just coming home high yourself).

Yet, here he was, just fucking lost his job to save you like some story book hero and now patching you up. This wasn’t like him and that alone made him uneasy. But each time his hand brushed the cool rag against your split lip with you looking up at him with a cute little glare, his heart felt like it was going to explode.

He scoffs, a pathetic attempt of a response as he breaks himself out of the haze he was in. His fingers work quickly, as if touching you was physically burning him. Nam-gyu throws the cool rag down and reaches to the first aid kit, fishing out a few bandages.

When his fingers graze against your scalp, where you know you’re bleeding from, you suck in a sharp breath. Yes, it stings, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. It’s his closeness.

Nam-Gyu is leaned over you, one hand holding the top of your head- keeping you still- fingers threaded into your hair to part it away from the wound. The other hand dances along the gash and works diligently to clean you up. It’s the softness of his touches, the way he’s so careful with you.

And when you look up finally, catching the way he looks- you’re a goner. He looks at the wound like it’s all his fault, like he had some obligation to protect you and he failed. It was odd, you never had someone dote on you like this, it made it all the more weird to have Nam-Gyu out of all people show you this kindness.

Feeling your intense stare on him, Nam-gyu looks down. When he sees you looking up at him, he begins to over heat. Was it this hot when you two first got back?! Fuck, you do look so pretty like this..

You watch as he bites the corner of his bottom lip, ripping his dark eyes away from you and hurriedly finishes his work on your injury. Soon, he’s closing the lid on the first aid kit and pulling away from you.

“Don’t do anything stupid, you’ll open it up and you’ll really have to get stitches.” Nam-gyu scolds in a low, monotone voice. He’s throwing away the wrappers and bloody gauze and coming right back to the couch, sitting next to you.

You want to say something, thank him maybe, but you can’t form any words. From fumbling the deal, nearly getting killed, having Nam-Gyu save you and patch you up like a knight in shining armor- it was all so much. Your mind was spinning and the tension within the room grew thicker the longer you two sat in silence.

“You really didn’t have to-“ your pathetic attempt at breaking the silence is cut off by Nam-Gyu. “I didn’t have to but I did. Enough about it.” His voice is rough, cracking with his terse words. “I could have taken care of it myself, ive been doing this for-“

“Shut the fuck up and quit whining about it. It happened it’s over with” Again, he’s cutting you off, “I don’t give a fuck how long you’ve been ‘in the business’ I wasn’t going to let you get your ass beat over some drugs.” When he says it, he feels like he’s dreaming. There was no way you were drug dealing this whole time. Your pretty little office-working self getting involved in one of the most fucked up and dangerous side gigs possible?! It made him sick.

He was never a good roommate. Hell, he was not even a good person to you most the time- but the idea of you having been so down bad on your luck, so beaten down by life and forced into the line of work solely to make sure you survived- it made him want to throw up. Nam-gyu didn’t find himself around great company either but that was normal for him. He was antisocial and a jackass, working at a sleazy club, doing sleazy shit for a quick buck; it was normal for someone like him. It shouldn’t have been normal for someone like you.

Nam-gyu runs his hands through his hair, drained and exhausted from the altercation, the silence fills the living room awkwardly yet again. His dark eyes flick over to the side of the couch you sat in, your mouth closing as if you decided against saying anything else. You look like a kicked puppy, shrinking into the couch as if you’re being scolded. Bruises are blooming over your face, a horrid reminder that Nam-Gyu didn’t make it out of the VIP room with you quick enough.

The last thing you need is for him to be mad at you. Your life was dangled in front of your eyes like some sick prize to be won at a fair- an occasion that had happened to you one too many times while you worked dealing. He knows that this wasn’t something new to you, you weren’t some soft sheltered girl that needed to be scolded for getting involved with the big bad boys.

“I’m…” Nam-gyu breaks the silence, sighing deeply as he tries to find the words he wants to say. He wasn’t good at this. Comforting was never a word that could be used to describe him. “I know you could have handled yourself.”

His words make you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You try to relax, try to relax your shoulders and straighten your back, to sit like an adult and not a child who was in trouble. “But I wasn’t going to sit there and just let you get your ass killed.”

“You’re stupid as shit for getting involved in the line of work and you’re dumb as fuck for even thinking I wouldn’t help you.” Nam-gyu seethes, he can’t even make eye contact with you. He’s leaned forward on his knees, eyes trained on the carpet, legs bouncing anxiously. You can even see, damn near hear, the gritting of his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

He hates this. Part of him wished he didn’t jump in and pull you out of there. It would mean he didn’t have to confront the feelings he’s been ignoring.

Nam-Gyu was for one, not a great person. He usually didn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself. That’s how the world worked! If he wasn’t number one in his world he wouldn’t be here. Everything he did was only to benefit himself. Putting up the ad for a roommate that you answered to? Yeah, he only did that so he could have a bit of extra cash to spend on drugs….that was another fault of his- he could be strapped for cash and barely make rent but he always made sure he had his fix of whatever substance he could find and here he was bitching you out for dealing the drugs he did on a regular. How hypocritical.

He was painfully aware of how hypocritical he was. You would have made this so much easier if you were the pretty little office girl he thought you were this whole time. But you weren’t, you were some badass drug dealer who could throw a punch. Who knows how many drug houses you’ve been to, how many fights you’ve been in or how many times you almost lost your life. He almost hates you for deceiving him in such a way….almost.

You cringe at his words, they make your gut ache and heart drop. You felt stupid for arguing with him, you know if you were in his situation- you would have done the same thing. It’s human nature. “Yeah but your job….” You say in a soft sigh, settling back into the old couch you two sat in. “There’s no way they’re going to let you back…I made you lose your job.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. I did the shit on my own.” He grumbles, his leg bouncing anxiously. He looks forward, at the ground, staring at seemingly nothing as he tries everything in his ability to not look at you. “Okay, smartass.” You respond, rubbing a hand against your forehead. “What I’m trying to say is because you fought your own fucking boss for my sake you lost your job and now don’t have anyway to make rent.”

It pissed him off how you were right, how did you know how much money he did or didn’t have?! Was he really that much of an open book.

“It’s fine. I nearly killed your boss. We’re even.” He grumbles, you can only sigh in response. In the fight you both had somehow attacked the other’s boss. Nam-gyu did throw the first punch, that was a fact. He effectively ended the deal before it even started. “So now I’m assuming you don’t have rent either right?” He adds.

“Nope. Broke as fuck since I didn’t finish the deal.”

After your response you sit in silence, it’s awkward but something seems to stir in both of you. Both of you are oddly calm for just admitting to not having any rent money for the month and effectively becoming black listed from the club / drug scene. Neither of you had a good source of income now.

After what felt like ages, you both speak at the same time.

“I robbed your boss at the club”

“I stole the drugs you were supposed to sell.”

Both of you turn, looking at each other incredulously.

“You lying fuck! Oh my god I thought I was going to be the reason you were evicted.” You say looking at the mass amounts of the drugs that you were supposed to sell. “Yeah…figured we could flip it…make rent and then some, y’know.” Nam-gyu says sheepishly.

“Wait.. you robbed my fucking boss!?” Nam-gyu immediately shouts looking at you like you have grown a second head. The man he has hated for years- the one who paid him below minimum wage just so he could pocket the money- you robbed him?! Nam-Gyu has wanted to rob that fucker blind for years! But with all the security and his need for a job, he never tried it.

“Well yeah…” you shrug, hand rubbing the back of your neck. “It was easy really…he had the cash laid out in gaudy fucking stacks on the table and he broke his ring when he hit me sooo…” you laugh awkwardly, “when shit hit the fan and they were distracted…” You turn and grab your bag you had been carrying, dumping it out onto the couch.

Wads of cash tumble out the bag, some falling to the couch cushions, some bouncing off the plush seat to settle on the floor. After what was too many bundles of cash and crumpled single bills fall out of your bag, a broken, diamond incrusted falls out like a perfect cherry on top.

“…I took what I could get when you grabbed me.” You finish, smiling proudly at him.

Nam-Gyu looks at you bewildered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It’s like his whole idea he had of you in his head had been shattered- it had.

He moves before he can even realize what he’s doing, he’s launching over the couch and grabbing your face in his hands, cupping both of your cheeks.

A wide, proud, almost grateful smile stretches across his lips, “You have no fucking idea how amazing you are- oh my fucking god- so fucking smart! So perfect!”

Your eyes widen when he speaks, each word that you hear makes your heart hammer into your chest more and more, you’re not even sure what to respond. He’s so close you’re breathing in each other’s air.

“I-“ your words pathetically fall into a cracked sound that is somewhat of a squeak. You can’t even form a response, you were certain praise like that would never have fallen from Nam-gyu’s mouth, let alone be directed at you.

Your surprise makes him realize exactly what he said. His eyes dart around nervously, trying to think of anything he could say to act nonchalant- there literally is nothing. Not with what he said, not with the position you two were in.

A moment of silence washes over you both, the air thick with a tension neither of you had noticed until now. You’re not sure who moved first but after a long moment, you two are leaning in and closing the distance.

Your lips mold with his, admittedly it’s a bit tense and awkward at first, both of you unsure and nervous. It takes a few seconds but both of you ease into it, lips moving slowly and meticulously against one another, melting into the feeling. It was so gentle, tender even. Something neither of you had experienced.

You raise a shaky hand, placing it on his cheek and pulling him closer, feeling an innate need to deepen the kiss. He seems to reciprocate, his shaky hands hovering over your waist- unsure and scared- before he’s gripping at you and pulling you closer to him on the couch.

Months and months of pent up feelings of anger, desperation, and pure need are translated through the kiss. He can’t get over how you taste, so sweet, your lips are so soft. Nam-gyu has never felt anything like this, it’s a kiss that makes him feel like it’s his first one ever. It’s not, far from it but this isn’t a lustful kiss that is spur of the moment while he fucks you- it’s a slow, strategic kiss that molds your lips so perfectly with his like both of you are trying to memorize the individual lines on the others lips. He was never one for romantic shit, he always said he didn’t do relationships. You were different though.

Nam-gyu could slap himself, really, he feels so cheesy to even think something like that. You made him feel things he would never even dream of, you made him feel vulnerable in the best way.

He kisses you as if you’re the oxygen he needs to breathe, hands gripping at your waist and pulling you onto his lap. The movement makes you let out a surprised gasp, Nam-gyu swallows it down effortlessly, settling you onto his lap with ease like you’ve been there before.

When you pull back for air, he’s chasing your lips like this would be the only time he will ever get to kiss you. With a smile on your lips, you’re kissing him once again, hands threading themselves into the dark hair at the back of his neck. Nam-gyu’s hands hastily shove up the shirt you had on. He’s placing his palms on your ribcage, thumbs just under your breasts, and pulling you into him.

When he needs air, despite depriving himself of it for far too long, he’s slumping into the couch bonelessly, eyes fluttering open to look at you sat so prettily on his lap. Despite being bruised and still covered in dried blood, he thinks you’re the most picturesque thing to have graced his field of view.

“I’m sorry I was….am…such a dick..” Nam-Gyu mumbles, eyes trailing over your body trying to memorize every intricacy. “You don’t deserve it..I was a horrible roommate, I was-“

“Annndd~ I literally was literally dealing drugs and tried to kill your boss in front of you- I’m not a saint either.” You say, one of your hands releasing his hair to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the skin.

Nam-Gyu, much to your surprise, doesn’t shy away from your touch, he’s turning his face into your hand and nuzzling your palm. “Still…” he huffs, lips brushing against your palm. He pouts like a dejected kid, mind racing through every single time he had argued with you or was more than an unsavory roommate.

You let out a yelp when he nips at your skin, “What the fuck was that for?!”

“That’s for not fucking telling me you were some badass drug dealer, here I was thinking you were some prissy office siren who never did drugs- you gave me more than one glare when I was railing lines off the coffee table.” Nam-gyu chuckles, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I was fucked up high!” You laugh, pushing at his chest, “I wasn’t glaring, I can’t judge you for doing that shit, you’re a grown man- I was so fucking high my eyes were about to shut on their own while I was standing.”

Both of you begin to laugh, short chuckles and soft giggles turning into full on, boisterous laughter. It was so cheesy, both of you too caught up in your own emotions and insecurities that neither of you thought of what could be if you both just sat down and talked like adults.

“Well then, now that I know you are down for some substances~” He says, catching his breath.

“Ew, don’t say it like that”

Nam-Gyu laughs once more, shifting slightly to reach into his back pocket. He pulls out a small ziplock bag, brightly colored with a trippy design, immediately you can smell the dank aroma of weed, “Why don’t you let me roll for you, and tomorrow I can take you out properly.”

You smile, nodding, taking the bag from his hand to inspect the green flower, “you wanna take me out while I look like this?” You say lifting your free hand to point at your bruised and cut face.

“Oh hell yeah, you look tough as shit.” Nam-Gyu nods, hand dropping from your waist to tap playfully on your ass a couple times. “If you wanna heal and settle before I take you out, by all means….but I’m taking you out as soon as the bruise is gone.”

When he finishes his sentence Nam-Gyu leans in, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your bruised flesh. “I’m done being stupid, bein’ a dick…” His words trail off as he repeats every time he was an ass to you over and over in his head.

When he would turn on the washer to make she shower go cold- it wasn’t to piss you off, it was really so he could hear the cute squeal you let out and hear how you sounded yelling his name. He learned quickly he liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth.

When he would banish you from the kitchen while he was cooking, it wasn’t because he found you annoying. It was because he was distracted by your perfume. The second you walked into the kitchen, or even the living room, he could smell you. It was a scent that comforted him in the strangest way- that unfamiliarity scared him.

Nam-Gyu was a loner through and through, he loved his alone time. Hell, he hated the club scene- he’s not even sure how he does the job, it’s like the second he’s clocked in a switch is flipped and he’s on autopilot until he clocks out. All that to say, that is why he lived alone.

But, with rent too high, he needed a roommate despite how much he did not want one. And as much as he’s lied to himself, saying you were possibly the worst roommate to have- he found himself enjoying coming home to evidence of you being there. Your hair ties left on the ground, lipgloss near the front door, the various pairs of shoes that overcrowd his singular pair in the entryway- he loved it.

“You are fucking terrifying.”

“I’m sorry?!” You say with a laugh, looking down at him with your eyebrows furrowed. Your hands fall to his shoulders, pushing yourself back the slightest bit to look at him better.

He shakes his head violently, “no! Not like a bad thing…” he mumbles sheepishly, looking at you through thick lashes, “you just…make me feel things, things I don’t know if I want to feel.”

“Is that a good thing…?” You ask, uneasy, feeling like maybe the kiss you two shared was too much.

“I think.” Nam-Gyu says, his hands grip your waist harder, anchoring you to him as if he was scared he fucked this all up and you’d leave. “The more I’m around you the weirder I feel but I crave more of it…”

You laugh softly, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek, thumb brushing over the bruised skin gently. “Well then, I’d like to help you explore those weird feelings, give you what you crave..”

Nam-Gyu’s heart feels like it skips a beat, his breath is caught in his throat but he’s grinning up at you like the biggest idiot. Leaning into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm, he nods.

“Good.” He responds, his arms wrapping around your back and pulling you into him. Chest to chest he buries his head in the crook of your neck, nose running along your pulse point. “You can start by sleeping in my bed with me tonight.”

He’s up off the couch, carrying you down the hallway before you can even protest. In a fit of giggles you cling to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. When he feels you tighten around him, his whole body feels warm- he could never get enough of it. And now that he has it, he’s positive that he could never be without it.

#namgyu x reader #nam gyu squid game #namgyu fanfic #nam gyu x reader #player 124 x y/n #player124 x you #namgyu x y/n #namgyu x you #player 124 x reader fic #namgyu x reader fic #Nam gyu x reader fic #nam gyu x y/n #player124 x reader smut #squid game fanfiction #squid game fanfic #x reader squid games #nam gyu #player124

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r4spb3rr13s · 1 year ago

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i saw the news :( however i have come to re-enter! So my mcbling angel, could we pretty please get a part 3 of meet mcbling hotties with maybe shigiraki, sabi, maybe a little twice, maaaybe a little gentle criminal.... i luv u and ur my bae as well cutie >3<

- 🍥 anon

villains meeting their mcbling gf

♱ shigaraki, twice

♱ pt.1 here pt.2 here

notes: dabi is in part one!! also this may be ooc 😔 and sorry bby but i have no clue how to write gentle criminal 😓

Tomura is in his usual spot, staring the TV down with enough rage to burn holes in the screen. Naturally, it’s because All Might is on screen. Like always.

The bar is in a low hum, filled with smoke from Dabi’s refusal to step out to huff on his cigarette. Spinner and Toga are playing cards, and her giggles bounce off the walls. Other than that, it’s fairly quiet.

Until the door creaks open. Then it’s silent.

And there… you stood. Awkwardly.

Tomura’s head snapped towards you with a sickening crunch resounding through the air. Any words he had reering up are stuck in his throat, though.

The light is shaping you like an angel. A very promiscuous angel, that is. A tight, pink dress hugs your curves and the platform wedges you have on accentuate every step your fake-tanned legs take.

“Uh… Himiko?”

Said girl squeals, and her chair scratches across the floor like nails on a chalkboard as she jumps up. Tomura watches as she runs up to you and wraps you in a hug.

“What the fuck…” Dabi trails off, eyes pointed at Tomura. Everyone is looking at Tomura, trying to gage his reaction. It snaps him out of his stupor.

“Toga, who is this?” He rasps out, pointing a lazy knuckle at you. His eyes barely flit over you, but when they do, you see a small bit of pink blossom on his pale face.

It’s weirdly cute.

Himiko squeezes you so hard you think she might suffocate you to death. I mean, you wouldn’t put it past her, but still.

“This is Y/n!!”

She is met with blank stares.

You roll your eyes and shrug her off, making her pout. Taking a cautious step forward, you catch Tomura’s eye - you know exactly who he is.

You’ve admired him for a while, and the League, in silence. You’ve been on chat rooms with a false IP address, watched their dark-web videos, heard their lackeys talking in the darker parts of town.

Himiko found you when you were talking to one of the lackeys, and surprise, surprise, took a liking to you. She gushed about the League, and weirdly…

You wanted in.

You strode forward, ignoring the room’s eyes on you - you were just focused on Tomura Shigaraki.

He watched you with stiff, darting red eyes. It was like he couldn’t decide where to rest his eyes - everytime he moved his gaze, there was your soft, glowy skin or something pink or patterned or your soft hair-

“Y/n L/n,” You said and held your hand out.

Tomura watched your hand as he leant on his own hand. His lip curled and you faltered. But, he fished out a thick-lined glove, slipped it on, and grabbed your hand.

His eyes fell on yours as your hands shook. The pink on his face was almost the same colour as your dress, and his cracked lip twitched.

“I’m here to join, by the way.” You clarify, heat rising to your own cheeks.

Your hand is still in his. Tomura notices and drops you like a hot pan, quickly looking away. He mutters a small, ‘okay’ and notions for a pen from Kurogiri - another member you’re familiar with.

Tomura scribbled something down with his thick glove on, muttering under his breath in a raspy, crisp voice. The sound cuts through the thick air and makes the hair on the back of your neck.

He stops writing and holds out the paper to you. It’s… a number. You almost facepalm.

You cock a brow, and Tomura goes pink again, but refuses to look at you.

He clears his throat, itching his neck absent mindedly. “I’m busy now. Call me later and we’ll talk about your membership.”

:::

Jin is tired. Spent. Exhausted. Fatigued. He’s practically swaying on his feet as he breathes in the smoke from his cigarette. He nods at Dabi as he walks past and enters the dingy bar.

If he could just close his eyes-

A loud whistle rings through the air, and for a startling moment, Jin thinks he’s getting hit on by the builders across the street. Until you come into view.

Your confident stride falters and he watched with an open jaw as you pause to scream at the men in hi-vis.

There’s a small, douchey part of him that can’t even blame them - you’re gorgeous!

Your tattered denim shorts sit low on your hips, and the majority of your torso is on show in the low light of dusk. A small, pink tube top is wrapped around your chest, and big jewellery jangled with every finger you jab as you scream.

Your verbal assault on the builders finally halts when they let out a hurried apology and decide to get back to work. With a sigh, you push your hair out of your face and move on.

Well, you would if there wasn’t another guy in your way.

He’s tall, muscular and blond, with eyebags that rivalled the purple of your velvet bag. The smoke from the cigarette in between his fingers is curling around his neck like a choker, and brought stark attention to his agape mouth. You scoff.

“What? Want your turn?”

“Yes please- no, no thanks-” He barks out, then covers his mouth. Pink spreads across his cheeks from under his hand, and you cock a brow.

“…Yes or no?”

“Yes-no-”

The poor guy seemed torn. He was muttering to himself now, back rigid and face pink. It was… endearing in a way.

You cast a short glance back to the builders, and Jin takes the moment to drink in the size of the silver hoops hung either side of your face. He could probably fit his hand through them, they’re so big. Or-

“Listen, you’re cute… so I’ll give you number,” You mutter and take a short step towards him. Your sparkly eyes search his face, and he curtly nods, still as pink as bubblegum. “Okay, just, if they ask, I was giving you directions.”

Again, he nods. Like a well behaved dog, you think.

The poor man is left in a mental battle watching you leave. He does know for sure, though, the paper clutched in his hand with your number on is becoming his most sacred possession.

:::

notes: THIS SHIT IS NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY 😭

taglist: @marzkqx @aespie @itzlittlemissperfect @im-so-tired-sorry @mangalovesanime-blog @livingmydreamlife5555

#{ mcbling baddie }#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha villains x reader #mha #mha x reader #mha villains x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha twice #bnha twice x reader

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 6 months ago

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Hi, just curious. What's your 10 or 20 fave BL kisses from bl series/dramas/web series you've watched or are watching, if you have any?

Hey Anon,

I don't know if you remember this ask, it has been sitting in my inbox for a while now. Sorry for the late reply!

And of course I have favorite kisses. I love a good kiss. In my definition of a good kiss, it doesn't need to be the perfect angle or the perfect "lip-touching", I don't know, people rate such scenes differently. For me it is more about the emotions I could feel during that kiss, the build-up or if there is a special detail that really catches my breath. I guess you'll understand, what I mean when you see my choices.

This is not a ranking! It is in alphabetical order, not just because I don't want to rank them, but because I am lazy.

Bad Buddy

The iconic rooftop kiss. The whole build-up was perfect. The tears? The first short kiss followed by this gorgeous kiss filled with all the emotions one person can feel? What is not to like about this kiss!?

Be My Favorite

I was very protective of these two and especially Krist. People were saying, he can't kiss other man because he is homophobic and what is this then? Yes, I remember Sotus. The kisses were.. not good, but I gave Be My Favorite a chance and this kiss was so soft and so full of love and tenderness. I really enjoyed this whole scene a lot! And Kris can kiss.

Boys Be Brave!

This kiss came as a big surprise for me. It is Jinwoo trying to hide from Kisub and the letter finding him what leads to this quiet and beautiful first kiss. I loved everything about it!

Ghost Host, Ghost House

All of there kisses were so good! But I loved the teasing and the chasing in this scene especially. Those two have incredible good chemistry and I wish we could see more of them.

History 3: Make Our Days Count

Oh the desperation for each other was so real in this one. Both wanted each other so bad! But what I loved the most about this whole scene was the way how Sun Bo Xiang reassured Lu Zhi Gang that he desired all of him. So good!

I Feel You Linger In The Air

The most painful and saddest kiss in bl-history! It is such a wonderful scene. Everything about it made me cry and smile at the same time. Gorgeous scene!

Jack and Joker

They finally confessed and kissed for the first time. And what a kiss this was! It left the most of us speechless and a little bit breathless. The way Jack stopped the kiss in the middle to calm Joke down a little bit and they started the kiss again so fucking tender and argh! I love it so much!!!

Love Class 2

Love Class 2 has some really good kisses, but this one was something else! It is one of the softest kisses ever. I don't know how many times I have rewatched this whole scene. Just look at them. You can feel the softness of this kiss! And there were sounds during that scene... they were something else.

Love For Love's Sake

I really didn't expect that kiss at the end of this series. I hoped for a tight hug, but hello? Those two and the script kept delivering until the very end. This was pure perfection.

Love Mechanics

Yeah, well... perhaps I am just a sucker for YinWar kissing... I don't know. But every time I see this kiss I want to live in this scene forever and I would be perfectly fine. I am just sitting here, wanting to write about this kiss and I stared at it for an unhealthy period of time and forgot everything else. That is really bad. I love that kiss so much!

My Stand-In

They had some good kisses. This was not one of them, but this specific moment, when Joe gave in to the kiss, I was blown away. He really didn't want to like this kiss, but his heart still wanted it. The emotions!

My Tooth Your Love

Every once in a while there are these cute and small kisses, so ordinary and overlooked. I think these are very important to portrait a good and real relationship. Because kisses don't need to be these big moments in slow-motion and with different angles. Yes, those are nice, but I really adore those "small" ones that show the love between the characters.

Perfect Propose

The reason I picked this scene is because of the build-up. Hirokuni asked Kai not to call him Hiro, but Kai just ignored him and breathed Hiro and followed with this passionate kiss and I was just in awe.

Sing My Crush

I was absolutely not expecting this kiss! I thought we got this dead-fish-kiss and that would be it. I would have love the series nevertheless, but this scene? Damn, Korea! Such a good kiss!

The Heart Killers

I don't think those two are the best kissers in the industry. I think they have some good chemistry without a doubt. But this kiss. This moment here. It was everything for me. I can feel Style's hand on Fadel's head. I can feel it. And I love it! I am not normal about this scene! Everything about these few seconds brings me so much joy. The look on Fadel's face, the hand and everything that happend before and followed afterwards.

The Day I Loved You

This is still one of my favorite rooftop-kisses. For me it is the way they grab each other to pull the other one close. The way they want to crawl into each other, to feel the other person everywhere. Such a perfect first kiss! Such a perfect scene.

To My Star 2

I love these small kisses. I name them "A thousand little kisses". Those kisses make me smile and so happy! There is nothing more to say about it. I love them. To My Star is just an example for many other shows out there with these little kisses.

Unknown

I loved this whole scene. But this segment of the kiss, this little dance of them, is so good. I can't tell you how many times I just watched this specific scene. How easy Yuan maneuvered Qian around to close the door. How they kept kissing. I... I... nope. There are no words in my head anymore.

Well, these are a few of my favorite kisses. There are more, but I guess this list is long enough. I hope you like my little selection :) I wish you a wonderful day!

233 notes · View notes

training4theapocalypse · 2 years ago

Text

Never Been Kissed (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: SMUT, Second chance romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: You're a PI who joins the 11th Street Kids after a chance meeting with John Economos on the dark web. Unfortunately for you, your ex-friend-with-benefits Vigilante is here too. (Based on this ask by anon)

A/N: This took a hot minute. The M&Ms were originally cigarettes but these days I'm a healthy queen free of nicotine -purr.

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982, @pretendfan, @lolitstiana, @countlambula, @chiaraanatra, @stainedpomegranatelips, @navs-bhat, @ohnoitsrosie, @daisydark, @angrydragon90, @intense-sneezing

Chapter text:

The dim fire exit sign outside the back of the abandoned video store flickers as you suck a peanut M&M between your tongue and the roof of your mouth anxiously. You hope your contact hurries the fuck up - if he makes you wait any longer you’ll finish an entire party bag from nervousness.

It was stupid, really, even reckless, to meet a stranger from the dark web. But when some guy called TechConomos_11 had responded to you in a chat room where you were discussing the intel you had on some sinister goings-on in Evergreen, you knew you had to meet him and his team.

Because you’ll be damned if anyone catches the escaped gorilla before you.

There’s a clink of a padlock and chain falling to the floor, the sound of a heavy emergency exit bar being pushed down and when the door opens you’re face to face with a large, bearded man wearing glasses.

“Are you the PI?”

If you had to draw a sketch of what you thought a guy you met on the dark web would look like, he would be it. Not a neckbeard, exactly, just someone with the distinct aura of having too much time spent in front of a screen.

You nod. “TechConomos?”

“Call me John. Come inside - the team’s all here.”

You shove the half-empty pack of M&Ms into your bag and he leads you through to the back office.

“This is Murn, Harcourt and Adebayo.” He gestures to his three associates sitting in the office who each acknowledge you in turn. “And these guys-”

“Fuck it! Fuck, fuck fuck!”

The yelling draws your attention to the window separating the office from the rest of the video store and it’s like a knife in your gut when you see him.

Vigilante.

“Ugh, fuck! It hurts to walk!” Vigilante whines as he limps around. He turns to pace some more but stops in his tracks in alarm when he sees you. He immediately dives to the floor, launching himself behind a desk in a futile attempt to hide.

Vigilante is the last person you expected to - or wanted to - see here. It’s not his usual MO - normally he’d be out hunting thugs and drug dealers. What was he doing caught up in this operation with some tech guy and a team who you suspected were either current or former soldiers?

There’s a roaring laugh and your eyes find Peacemaker, doubled over in his chair, laughing like an idiot at Vigilante sprawled on the ground.

That explains Vigilante’s involvement. Looks like his idol, Peacemaker, is finally out of prison and the first thing he does is rope Vigilante into whatever this is. The whole thing stinks. Why is there an entire team with two capes looking for an escaped zoo animal? Any why did one of those capes have to be Vigilante?

You close your eyes and groan. “You didn’t tell me you were working with them.”

“You know each other?” asks Harcourt.

“Just Vigilante.” You sigh and follow them into the video store.

“Hey, asshole,” you say, peering over the desk Vigilante is hidden behind. He looks up at you and props his masked head up on his arm casually as if you didn’t just see him throw himself there a second ago.

“Oh, hey!” he says, feigning pleasant surprise.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I hurt my pinky toe.”

“Yeah? Which one?” You walk around the desk and stand at his feet to get a better look.

“Nononono! Wait!”

You clock the way his visor-covered eyes dart down to his right foot in panic.

“Woah, did you think I was gonna kick you or something?” Sure, you have beef but you’re kind of offended he’d think that you’d harm him on purpose.

“No…” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Asshole.” You roll your eyes and sit on the hard wooden surface, turning away from him to face the team.

“Who the fuck is this?” Peacemaker asks Murn before looking between you and Vigilante. “Do you two know each other or something?”

You don’t deign to reply.

There’s a squeak of a chair being dragged on linoleum as Vigilante pulls himself up onto a seat next to Peacemaker with a wince.

“Economos says you want to join the team,” says Murn.

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I know everything that goes on in Evergreen.”

“And?”

“I have information and skills that I want money for. Obviously.”

“How much?”

You were talking about splitting the reward for the gorilla but Murn’s expectant look makes it clear this is a contract. What’s that saying again? A contract in the hand is worth a gorilla in the bush? … Something like that.

“Well, what are you paying him?” You cast your eyes at Vigilante who shrugs. Unbelievable. “They’re not paying you? Idiot.”

Murn and Harcourt glance at each other awkwardly. “This is strictly off the books,” says Murn.

“So you were just going to take advantage of him? No way. I want my pay backdated for all the intell I’ve found for you. And his too for whatever it is he’s doing for you.”

“How do you guys know each other?” asks John, pulling up a chair behind his laptop.

You look at Vigilante warningly and answer before he can open his fat mouth. “I’ve sent some work his way once or twice. And compensated him fairly for it,” you add pointedly.

“Oh, they’ve definitely fucked,” laughs Peacemaker.

“Shouldn’t you be in Belle Reve?” You glare at him.

Peacemaker ignores the question. “Did he keep the mask on with you too?” He pouts faux-sympathetically.

This catches you off-guard. Not Vigilante and Peacemaker fucking - Vigilante is so obsessed with him that you guessed it was only a matter of time.

But he did keep his mask on.

Vigilante groans and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring determinedly at his injured foot.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Enough!” Murn gives Peacemaker a severe look before turning his attention back to you. “John says you know the location of what we’re looking for.”

“I’m not telling you until you get me up to speed with what you’ve got so far. John wouldn’t tell me shit online. Call it a show of good faith.”

“And we’re supposed to just take your word that you actually have useful information?” asks Adebayo.

John opens his mouth to reply but Vigilante beats him to the punch.

“She knows,” says Vigilante, finally looking up. “She’s… she’s a good PI. If she says she knows, she knows.”

“Well, we can’t divulge state secrets just because Vigilante vouches for you. Tell us the ‘where’ and if it checks out - you’re in,” says Harcourt.

You look around at this unlikely group. If you want to catch the gorilla you need their help. You need their weapons. You need their money.

“It’s at the Glan Tai bottling plant. You heard of it?”

“Pulling it up now…” John types on his keyboard. “It makes sense, Murn. They’ve got the production, the distribution channels… This is probably it.”

Distribution channels? What’s the gorilla at Glan Tai got to do with distribution?

You keep your face neutral - if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this job, it’s when to sit back, shut up and listen.

You try to piece things together as Murn talks about ‘butterflies’ and their ‘food source’. Economos checks highway CCTV footage and confirms that your intel is correct. This is extremely lucky for you because you’re clearly talking about two entirely different things. You wonder if these ‘butterflies’ are some kind of parasite-induced sleeper agent. And maybe the food source is a drug to release them from their fugue state?

“...And the gorilla?” you ask eventually.

“What about the gorilla?” asks Harcourt.

“The gorilla is at Glan Tai.”

“There’s a Butterfly gorilla?” asks Vigilante excitedly. “That is so cool!”

“Is that even possible?” Harcourt asks Murn who nods.

You’ve seen some shit but a gorilla sleeper agent takes the fucking cake. They all seem totally unfazed so you pretend to be too.

“So, what’s our next move? When do we start killing these aliens?” asks Peacemaker.

Aliens.

You discreetly scan the others. Nobody else bats an eyelid at Peacemaker’s use of that word.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

“You two get some rest, come back tonight,” says Murn to Peacemaker and Vigilante. “And you - you’ve got evidence of what we’re doing here?” There’s no point in lying so you nod. “Bring it back here so we can destroy it. All of it.”

You, Peacemaker and Vigilante, leave the video store. You cross the street to get to your car but Vigilante calls your name. You turn around to see him hurriedly limping over while Peacemaker climbs into the Vigilantemobile.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re part of the team now.”

“I can’t return the sentiment.” You scowl at him. Peacemaker beeps the horn of Vigilante’s car. “You’d better hurry up - you don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.”

“We’re not in a relationship. You know I only wanted to be with-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“C’mon, can’t you at least tell me why you stopped answering my calls?”

“I already told you - I’m not going to wait around my entire life for a guy who won’t even show me his face. Or tell me his real name.”

“I can’t -”

“Save your excuses for someone who gives a shit.” Peacemaker blasts the horn again. “At least I know you keep the mask on when you fuck him too. It’s not like he’s seen your face.”

Vigilante’s visor-covered eyes avoid contact with yours. His hesitation is like a punch in the gut.

“He’s seen your face?” You don’t mean to whisper it. The words just spill from your lips like you’ve been winded.

“Not like that. That was just a meaningless threesome-”

“But he’s seen it?”

He nods.

You push him aside to throw your car door open and get in. “Fuck you, V.” You slam it shut and drive away, not even bothering to glance at him standing haplessly in your rearview mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, you and John cross-check your intel. It’s becoming clear that this is way out of your fucking league. But if Vigilante can do it, you can too.

Right?

“You want some peanut M&Ms?”.

He accepts a handful gladly. “Why is so much of this about the fucking gorilla?” John asks with his mouth full, looking over your shoulder at your laptop screen.

The necessity of any quick thinking on your part is interrupted when you hear Murn’s voice ringing from the back office.

“You told Vigilante to kill Peacemaker's father?!”

You and John drop what you’re doing and peer tentatively around the door of the office where Murn is berating Adebayo.

“I didn't tell him to… I just kinda put the idea in his head,” she explains.

“That Peacemaker would be better off without his father?”

Oh no.

“Where’s Vigilante?” you ask suspiciously, joining Murn as he stands with his arms crossed. He looks furious.

“He’s in jail,” mumbles Adebayo. “I might have suggested that if someone were to go in and kill Peacemaker’s dad, all our problems would go away.”

You run your hands through your hair.

“How could you manipulate him like that?” Your combat boots squeak on the floor as you pace across it, catastrophising aloud. ��In case you hadn’t noticed, Vigilante is very fucking easy to manipulate. And he has a record. What if he kills someone in prison and gets locked up for life? Or what if he gets himself killed trying?”

“Peacemaker’s gonna see right through this. He’ll know exactly what you tried to do,” says Murn to Adebyo sternly.

They’re fucking crazy.

“Who gives a shit about Peacemaker? Vigilante is locked in jail with the White Dragon!” You plead urgently. Vigilante is in real danger and all they care about is Peacemaker’s feelings.

“Economos, can you get Vigilante out of the system before he screws us worse than we're already screwed?”

John sighs. “I don’t even know this guy’s name.”

The four of them look at you.

You cross your arms. “I can’t tell you his name.”

“Guess he’s gonna die in prison then -”

“Last name Chase. First name Adrian.” You blurt out his secret that you’ve been holding deep in your chest. “But you can’t tell him I told you. He doesn’t know I know.”

You crowd around John’s laptop as he pulls up Adrian’s file.

“We shouldn’t be looking at this,” you say as you stare intently at his mugshot - the mugshot you’re so well acquainted with. You’d rather die than admit how many hours you’ve spent sitting at your desk late at night, looking at his police record on your laptop.

And suddenly, it’s like you’re back in bed with him, as he stares breathlessly at the ceiling and you lie there naked on top of his bare chest, looking into his masked face, picturing that very same mugshot underneath it.

“Guess again,” Vigilante says. You can tell even under the mask that he’s grinning, enjoying your questioning.

“Hmm… are you a doctor? You’ve stitched yourself up a lot.”

“You think I’m a doctor and live here?”

Vigilante watches as you make a show of pursing your lips thoughtfully. The warm afternoon sun streaks through the gaps in his blinds onto his bed. It makes it look like there’s a golden halo around your messy bed hair. He tucks a small strand behind your ear as you walk your index and middle fingers along his chest and down his shoulder.

“Maybe a fireman with these big strong arms?”

He likes you when you let your walls down like this. You’re almost downright playful when he’s satisfied you - a personality trait he still hasn’t extricated from you outside these four walls.

“Man, I am so good at this secret identity thing if I can keep it a secret from a PI.”

You laugh. “I guess so.”

He didn’t know that you had long known his real job. And his real name. Or that you’d trace your fingers over his face on your laptop screen as you tried to reconcile it with the masked killer who was content to let you into his bed but never his real life.

“Wasn’t he our busboy at Fennel Fields?” Adebayo’s question snaps you back to the present.

“Can you pull him out?” You ask John.

“It’s… done.” He says, with a final click of his keyboard. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. Yet.”

Harcourt shrugs her leather jacket on. “I’ll pick him up.”

Great - first he reveals to Peacemaker who he is and now Harcourt who he’s known for a hot minute is about to see his face too.

You frown. “He’s gonna be really upset we know his identity.”

“You wanna come and soften the blow?”

“I’ll drive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harcourt sits in the passenger seat of your car outside of the Evergreen Police Department. You’ve been sitting here quietly in the dark, staring at the front doors for almost an hour.

“So what’s your deal with Vigilante?” She asks, finally breaking the silence.

“I told you - I threw some contract work his way. Used him as a bodyguard from time to time when I needed the extra muscle.”

“And then what? Why did you call him an asshole?”

“Because he can be an asshole.”

“That doesn’t sound right. A psychopath maybe. But an asshole? I don’t buy it.”

You keep your eyes focused on the police station door to hide your face. “He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.” You swallow with difficulty. “He just has a code. Lots of quirky little rules he has to follow that makes it difficult for someone ordinary like me to be - I mean, to work with him.”

“Like not revealing his secret identity.”

It’s not a question but you nod all the same.

“So this is your first time seeing him without his mask?”

“That he knows of.” Your forehead touches the cool glass window. It’s like if you stare hard enough at the door he’ll appear in one piece. “I had to do my background checks.”

The doors open and you see Adrian Chase in his cardigan and jeans walking out into the dark night, illuminated by the fluorescent streetlights.

He’s alive.

You roll down your window and he stops dead. He stares at you in shock with his lips parted slightly - unsure whether you recognise him or not.

Harcourt stretches across your seat and calls to Adrian. “We’re here to take you home. Get in.”

When he climbs into the back seat of your car you both turn in your seats. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing him up close - physically he’s unscathed.

“He’s still alive…” He says. “I’m Adrian.”

“Okay,” Harcourt says simply.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” you tell him.

He looks up at both of you sadly over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I think I might have made things worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you drop Harcourt off at her motel, Adrian gets into the passenger seat. You let him give directions to his apartment, even though you already know where he lives.

“This is me,” he says when you pull up to his building and park in the spot you’ve parked in on countless occasions.

“I know.”

“Right. Yeah, you’ve been here.”

“A couple of times, yeah…”

His stupid code. You could know where he lives but never see his face. And now you can’t stop yourself from drinking him in - his slightly stubbly chin from his day spent in prison, the way his curly hair is all messed up. He groans heavily and leans his head back against the headrest. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“The guys know how you ended up in jail - they don’t blame you.” He doesn’t say anything. You search his face as he stares gloomily ahead. “What happened in there, V?” you ask.

“I tried to provoke Peacemaker’s dad into a fight. It worked at first - the Aryans took the bait but his dad saw right through it. I think I’ve fucked up the whole mission.”

So Vigilante went into a viper pit unarmed and provoked a bunch of nazis into fighting him.

Deep down, you know it’s fucked up to be attracted to someone capable of such violence but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s what drew you to him in the first place. You knew about the headlines before you met him. And the idea of him taking on a dangerous prison gang really shouldn’t make your heart pound the way it is right now.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

You’ve never touched his hair before but you want to stroke it and comfort him. Tell him that it wasn’t his fault and it’ll all be okay. But he interrupts your train of thought before you can reach your hand out.

“I meant I’m sorry about us.”

Why is your first instinct to tell him that it’s no big deal that he broke your heart? Stupidly, you want to protect him from it - from the hurt he caused you. Comfort him, put his feelings before your own just because you can tell that right now he needs it.

But it is a big deal.

As soon as you remind yourself he couldn’t trust you enough to let you in, it feels like your heart is shattering all over again, mourning what you could have had.

Trust.

“I told the team your name so they could bail you out,” you admit, desperate to get the fact that you betrayed him off your chest. “I was worried about you locked up in there.”

He turns his head to look at you properly for the first time all night. The streetlights are reflected in his dorky little glasses.

“You knew my name?” He doesn’t look betrayed - he just looks surprised. “How…?”

You lift your finger from the steering wheel to point at his apartment. “Anyone with your address could find out who you are. And your full name appears on my checking account when you cash the checks I write you.”

“So you know… everything?”

“Yup.”

His eyebrows knit together in a plea. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to want me to know.”

“Knowing my secret identity would put you at risk.”

“That bullshit and you know it, V. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Yeah you do - that’s why you had me come with you on jobs.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Then why did you hire me?”

“I was curious about the man behind the headlines, I guess. Then I nearly went broke trying to spend time with you. Do you honestly think I wanted to give you a cut of my contracts for months? ”

He presses his palms into his eyes, pushing his glasses up out of the way and trying to make sense of it all.

“So those jobs were just you finding a reason to hang out?” He drags his hands down his face.

“Well, not at first. But then we started sleeping together after jobs and I wanted to keep doing that.”

“I would’ve wanted to be with you even without those jobs.”

“Oh yeah? You’d have taken me out on a date as Vigilante?” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again - as if reconsidering whatever he was about to say. “After all that time you still didn’t trust me enough to take off your mask. The last time we saw each other I practically begged you to show me who you are. Then Peacemaker comes back in town and you - what? Just rip off your mask and spill the beans without a second thought?”

“I was being tortured by Goff-”

“The senator tortured you?”

“Well, the Butterfly who had taken over his body. But yeah. He - I mean she - ripped off my mask and tried to cut off my pinky toe. Peacemaker was just there.”

You feel sick thinking about him being tortured. Then you feel sick about feeling sick. It’s not just normal empathy. You want revenge. But you know you shouldn’t care this much. Not when you’ve been broken up for so long.

“Shit, V. That’s horrible.”

“Besides, if I was gonna show someone my face it would have been you. Not Peacemaker.” He looks at you sadly. “I wish you hadn’t left.”

“And I wish you had given me a reason to stay, V. I deserved someone who could trust me. And you… you deserved someone you could be yourself with. We couldn’t be that for each other.”

The hurt on your face is plain for him to see - there’s no point trying to hide it.

“I do trust you. It’s just…” He hesitates. “You’re the only person I know who thought I was cool.”

“Adrian… that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Adrian.

It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that and it makes Adrian’s heart leap. Like the two sides of him have finally met you. After all this time.

“It’s not. Everyone else who knows me as Adrian knows I’m a loser. And I thought if I told you I was a busboy with no friends, you’d think that too.”

“You have friends.”

“Yeah, right.”

“The guys in the video store? They were so worried about you in jail. They like you a lot.” He allows himself a small smile like he doesn’t really believe it. “And I…” You pause. How do you feel about Adrian? “I still think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re actually saying the words he was afraid you’d never say.

“Of course I do. You’re still the masked Vigilante of Evergreen. And I’m just… ordinary.”

He scoffs in amazement. “You’re not ordinary - you’re like the smartest person I know. And you don’t need to hide behind a mask to do your job.

“I’m not that smart.”

“I mean, you found out more about the butterflies than the US government.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Can I tell you something? And you won’t tell the rest of the team?”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I didn’t know what butterflies were until today.” He looks extremely confused so you press on. “I met John in a dark web chatroom when I was researching the missing gorilla. And I thought you guys were looking for it too.”

He laughs. A merciless side-splitting laugh that doesn’t take your embarrassment into consideration at all. But it shows off his beautiful smile. And when you see it you can’t stop yourself from joining in too. It’s so ridiculous. You wanted to find the gorilla, and maybe get your PI business mentioned again in the local paper. Now you’ve been roped into saving the world with a black ops team and Vigilante.

You both try to regain your composure and stare at each other, catching your breath. He shakes his head, grinning.

Christ, look at him.

“I sometimes wondered if you wouldn’t remove your mask because you were just a bad kisser. I mean, I saw your mugshot so I already knew you were pretty.” You can’t help but tell him. You know the grainy photo on his record like the back of your hand but in person, he’s frankly gorgeous.

“Thanks, I know.”

You laugh again. “And modest.”

“You think I fund being Vigilante on a busboy salary? I get a lot of tips.”

“It all makes sense now. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Because she didn’t want to wait around for an idiot who wouldn’t even kiss her.”

You stare at each other in the shadowy silence for a few moments.

“It’s late, we should both get some rest.”

“Wait, don’t go.” His hand touches your thigh and it feels like there’s an electric current buzzing between his hand and the fabric of your jeans. The atmosphere almost crackles, like lighting about to strike in the middle of a storm. It’s the first time he’s touched you since you walked out on him six months ago and never went back. “It’s super late, you should crash at mine.”

“If I come upstairs we both know what’s going to happen.”

He tilts his head and you watch dimples form as the corners of his mouth turn into a mischievous smile. “That’s kind of the idea.”

“A bad one. We need to work together.”

“When has fucking ever stopped us from completing a job?”

“It hasn’t. But when we stopped seeing each other… I was really cut up. I couldn’t concentrate on work for a while. It’s why I needed the reward for the gorilla so badly.”

“Then we just won’t stop this time.”

“Adrian… I’ve only just pulled myself together again. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.”

He removes his hand from your leg to unclip his seatbelt.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Adrian gives you an apologetic look.

You stare at his lips. They’re just there. His whole face is out in the open. And now his lips, and the rest of him, are about to leave your car and you never know when you’ll see him unmasked again. He opens the car door.

“Wait -”

He turns back around in his seat.

“Let me find out if you’re a bad kisser. At least I can tell myself I’m not missing out on anything if you are.”

“You’re gonna be so mad…” He cups your face and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m a really good kisser.”

You smile and his lips meet yours.

It’s nothing like you imagined.

When you had sex it always felt urgent, even dangerous, getting into bed with a masked cape who was wanted for murder. More often than not he fucked you from behind, tugged fistfuls of your hair and slapped your ass.

But his kisses… his kisses are soft and slow. And good.

You’re totally screwed.

He sucks your lip gently and then his tongue traces across yours. You urge yourself forward in the driver’s seat closer to him, bringing your hand up to cradle the nape of his neck and lace your hand in his soft hair.

Warmth spreads in your chest when he deepens the kiss. You secretly hoped he’d be like this when he was unmasked. Your hot and rough encounters were always fun but in your heart you always wanted him to want you like this. Deeply. Reverently.

You break apart and press your forehead against his with your eyes closed, feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks.

You open your eyes to see his green ones searching yours from behind his glasses. He lets out a long, happy exhale when he hears your seatbelt unclick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrian’s bedroom is neat, clean, with framed vintage comic books on his walls and illuminated by a lava lamp on his bedside table. Details you remember from previous visits but barely register this time as you both burst through his bedroom door while he kisses you. Refusing to take his hands from your body, he kicks the door shut behind him forgetting about his injured foot. He regrets it immediately.

“Fuck!” He pulls away and winces.

“Careful,” you soothe, shrugging your jacket off onto the floor and he lifts your shirt off. As soon as your skin is uncovered his mouth finds it. He drags his tongue across your collarbones and between your breasts, nudging the cup of your bra aside so he can find your nipple.

His warm mouth feels almost too good to be true as he sucks on the hard, pebbled skin and moves on to taste every inch of your exposed chest, his deft hands unhooking your bra and tossing it aside quickly.

The entire day could have been a crazy fever dream. You’ve gone from your heart sinking at the very sight of him to it fluttering like crazy as you lie back on his mattress so he can pull your jeans and underwear off.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, sinking to his knees between your legs at the edge of the bed.

Even though you’re completely naked on his bed while he’s still dressed, you somehow feel less on display than he is right now without his mask. It feels taboo watching his jaw muscles tighten as he works his mouth all over your inner thighs. There’s something so controlled about the way he meticulously kisses the sensitive skin at the crux of your thigh that makes your lip quiver.

You’ve spent enough time around his quick reflexes to know Vigilante is going to be skilled at eating you out but sometimes, especially in the depths of your despair during your breakup, there was a niggling inkling at the back of your mind that the mask might just be a convenient excuse not to.

You had suspected, or maybe even hoped, when you hooked up that he had come really, really close to rolling up the bottom half of his mask and tasting you. More than once, you had caught a fleeting glimpse of him at odds with himself, his eyes behind his visor staring at your pussy and his neck muscles contracting as he swallowed thickly, strengthening his resolve and deciding to protect his own identity instead.

But tonight - finally - his tongue slides between your folds and you let out a low whine when the furnace-hot heat of his mouth besets itself over your clit.

Adrian groans when he tastes your arousal flooding his mouth. His hands cup under your ass as he pulls himself closer. You dare yourself to run your hand through his hair again, your fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. It still feels like it shouldn’t be allowed but he doesn’t seem to mind at all as his lips suck on your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Adrian…” His real name still sounds foreign on your lips, like you have to make a conscious effort to say it.

Adrian looks up at you over his glasses, his pupils wide in the dim violet light of the lava-lamp-lit room. He takes in your glowing face and chest as you lie propped up on your elbows, enjoying the sight of him on the floor between your legs.

His fingers knead the soft, pillowy flesh of your ass like he doesn’t want to let you go anywhere ever again. And you don’t want to. Fuck the mission. Can’t you just stay here forever? In Adrian’s bedroom, panting while his tongue runs firm circles over your clit.

When you roll your hips in encouragement, he lets out a soft little moan sending vibrations over the bundle of nerves - it almost makes you dissolve right there and then.

“I can’t believe I let you… fuck - let you get away with not doing this before,” you whimper. “So - s’fucking good, V.”

“Adrian,” he says and the tiniest absence of friction when his tongue leaves your clit makes your fingers tighten in his hair, urging him to return to your aching pussy.

“Adrianadrianadrian,” you babble, scared that his lips will leave you again. No more V. No more Vigilante. Just Adrian. Here. Eating your pussy like it’s you who’d been depriving him of this for months on end. Pleasure rises deep in your core like the tide getting ready to crash against the cliff face.

Your brain becomes fuzzy as increasingly desperate noises escape your throat - something strangled between a whine and his name. You squirm against his tongue as he relentlessly continues, determined to draw from you the orgasm that you’ve been desperate for since he kissed you in the car and you realised his mouth would feel like heaven.

The pressure of his tongue against your soaking wet pussy makes you writhe in exhilaration. You barely notice his fingers digging harder into your skin as you arch your spine and throw your head back.

Your thigh muscles tense and relax, trembling on either side of his face. “Adrian, I’m gonna - gonna cum…”

Instead of responding, he sinks two fingers deep inside your cunt, giving you something to squeeze around as every muscle in your pelvis tightens. He curls his fingers slightly and it’s just enough to push you over the fucking edge.

The purplish glow of the room turns blinding white as waves, hot and wet, break over you and your body floods with ecstasy. Your whole lower body stiffens as your walls clench around his fingers and you grind your pussy against his mouth.

Fuck, you’ve been missing out. You haven’t been with anyone else the entire time you’ve been apart and it’s like your body has been crying for exactly this moment without you realising how much you needed it. Needed his mouth on you.

The room comes into focus again gradually as Adrian gives you a last few slow, gentle kisses before sliding his fingers out of your still-twitching centre.

You breathe heavily and look at him kneeling on the floor.

He looks stupidly pleased with himself, the corner of his wet, glistening mouth upturned in a self-congratulatory smile at the way he’s taken you apart piece by piece. You can’t help but giggle from endorphins buzzing through your body. It makes your abdomen hurt from all the tensing you were doing.

Adrian slaps the side of your ass and gets to his feet, undoing his belt buckle. “C’mon, bend over,” he grins.

You sit up, shake your head and smile. “Nuh-uh, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He blinks a couple of times dazedly. “Did you forget about your mask for a second?”

Adrian clears his throat. “Uh...No?”

He so did.

“C’mere.” You hook your fingers through his belt loops and pull him closer. You kiss the light trail of hair covering his hard abdomen while your fingers work to undo his jeans and pull them down to release him from the confines of his boxers.

God, you missed it. He has a pretty face alright but his cock is fucking perfect.

Your cheeks grow hot feeling him so close. You grip his hard length and draw your tongue across the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum.

“Take your top off,” you say, looking up at him before running your tongue along his shaft, keeping eye contact.

He grips the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head. Seeing him in the purple glow, every contour of his sculpted abdomen illuminated sends burning heat to your pelvis. You never thought you were into muscular guys, not until you saw Vigilante take his suit off for the first time. Now you’re not sure if you could go back to anything else. Anyone else.

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock but he interrupts you.

“I need to fuck you. Please.”

At this point, you’re so turned on it’s an offer you can’t refuse. You release him and scoot back on the bed. He goes to crawl on top of you but flinches when his injured foot meets the mattress.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to - ah fuck.”

“It’s okay. Here, lie down. Let me go on top.”

He does so with relief and you swing your leg over his thighs.

“Better?”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, looking at your naked figure sitting on top of him.

You reach into his bedside drawer where you know he keeps his condoms. Your fingers skirt over what you suspect are bags of candy until you find the corrugated square shape you’re looking for. You take it out and roll the condom on him.

“Okay, easy,” you say, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. He throbs under the grip of your hand in anticipation. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“You were totally cool with me over-exerting myself on the floor a second ago.”

“I was talking to myself,” you smirk. “It’s been a while.”

You ease yourself down onto his cock, feeling the beautiful stretch as you adjust to his size.

“Shit…” he breathes, clamping his hands down hard on your hips, forcing you to bottom out. His eyebrows knit together and he sighs through parted lips, feeling the way your walls stretch around him. He looks so beautiful - you can’t stop looking at his lips.

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head so you can lean down and kiss him. The taste of your juices registers on your tongue as his enters your mouth. You deepen the kiss and Adrian responds by jerking his hips up needily, pressing into your g-spot.

You moan and suck on his bottom lip, gently rolling it between your teeth as he pushes into the most sensitive part of your centre. Searing heat burns low in your belly, spreading to your thighs. You push yourself back up to ride him and grab his wrists, dragging them from your waist to grope at your chest.

“Fuck, you look so hot riding my dick.”

“Yeah? Rose-tinted visor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

You’re teasing him but it seems to spur him on, as he squeezes your tits and jerks up into your bouncing hips. Every wet slap that meets your ears only increases your neediness for him. It burns brightly in your core, making you wetter and even more desperate for your next orgasm.

Every roll of your body sends his cock plunging into you, pushing against you at the perfect angle. God, he feels incredible. Your walls start to convulse around him, clamping down and gripping his cock as your second climax rears its head.

“Adrian, fuck, I’m close…” you plead, frantically chasing your high, wildly gyrating and bouncing in time with his thrusts.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“No, say my name,” he says, through gritted teeth, his neck muscles tightening in the soft light.

His neck.

“Fuck, Adrian.” You lunge forward and bite on his neck. He grabs handfuls of your ass, anchoring himself into you as he thrusts savagely upwards sending pleasure rocketing through you. Fuck he’s deep. So fucking deep.

His name leaves your lips over and over, broken and ragged as every jerk of his hip knocks the air out of your lungs. Bliss ignites and your cry of pleasure is muffled as you moan and run your tongue over his neck, smelling his aftershave mixed with his musky sweat. An explosion, more fierce than any grenade blast bursts through your centre as he pummels his cock with unparalleled force and precision, even as you squirm and shake, unable to keep moving your own hips in time with his.

With every ounce of strength you have you lean up on your arms to look at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and his facial muscles contort as he sucks through his teeth.

“Cum for me, Adrian,” you murmur sweetly in his ear and he opens his eyes, giving you a terminally helpless look as he slams his hips into your hot, wet cunt and you squeeze around him as tight as you can. With a final thrust, you feel his thighs tighten and his cock pulsing inside you as he cums.

You flatten your body back on top of his - the warm, damp sweat between your chests feels strangely pleasant. His fingers trace circles up your spine, gently tickling your back. Adrian turns his head to kiss you and you both lie for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours.

After what feels like a long time of lying in quiet elation, you make yourself climb carefully off of him and roll over, resting back on his pillows.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says and you lie back watching him dispose of the condom, taking care not to put any pressure on his bandaged toe. He launches himself back on the bed with a thud making you bounce on the mattress. “Good, you’re still here,” he says, leaning on his elbow and looking down at you.

“Where else would I be?” you laugh.

“Well… you usually leave right after. Except that one time I accidentally bought peanut M&Ms.”

You look at him apologetically. In fairness, the mask was hardly an invitation to spend the night - what was he going to do? Sleep in it? “Do you have peanut M&Ms?”

He nods to his bedside drawer and you open it to see that it’s stuffed with the little yellow bags.

“You like peanut M&Ms now?”

He pulls a face. “No way dude, they’re so gross.”

“Then why…?”

“I guess I always hoped you might change your mind and come back. So I bought them whenever I thought about you.”

You look at the drawer - there’s practically enough that Adrian could have made a trail of peanut M&Ms from your apartment across town to his. “You would have made a really sweet boyfriend,” you sigh.

“Well, I mean… I still could,” he says in a would-be nonchalant type of way, pushing up his glasses with his finger and avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah?” You weren’t sure if he’d be open to picking up where you left off. But it feels right when it didn’t before. Now you know him. Really know him.

He pulls his eyes up and meets your gaze with a smile. “If you want me to?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“Sweet,” he says with a wide smile, not bothering to hide how giddy he is.

You open the packet. “For the record, I’m not just staying because of the M&Ms this time.”

“I know.”

“And I’m glad you’re on the team.”

He nods happily, watching you pop a few into your mouth. “Hashtag me too.”

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #vigilante x female reader #smut #adrian chase smut #vigilante smut #fanfiction #freddie stroma #fanfic #peacemaker

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l3tm3kn0w · 8 months ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE: The Wheel of Fortune

jungkook x reader | friends to lovers | spiderman!au — link to masterlist

chapter summary: your mission to get an interview from spiderman reaches a new milestone as the arachnid vigilante acknowledges your presence during your latest chase, and the wheels of fortune are put into motion as you're faced with a devastating turn of events

wc: 8k

warning: explicit language, swearing, sexual innuendos/jokes, one joke about brutally murdering a best friend, mentions of drinking, mentions of kidapping, slow burn that’s burning slowly, jungkook has a crush tho ur just fucking oblivious sorry, other bitches wanting jungkook also deserves a warning i fear

a/n: hello world, hello tumblr!! first time publishing something here (a sister hailing from ao3 speaking) so please bear with me as i try to relearn how to navigate this website from my preteens. i’ve DMs open & believe i also opened asks????? with anon enabled???? (help????) so if you want to holler at me, you may do so there as well :)

aaaaand, welcome to the first chapter, where we’re really just setting the scene for what’s to come, hehe. please know that i don’t have a beta-reader, so please excuse any mistakes i might’ve accidentally left in 😣

hope you’ll enjoy it!! happy reading <3

You watch as the man plummets towards the ground from the 12th floor balcony.

A pretty jammed crowd of bystanders have formed on the street corner you, too, are standing on, watching with bated breath as the suited figure limply approaches the ground. You play with the voice recorder in your hand as parents cover their children’s eyes, and friends tightly grab onto each other in anticipation. The rest have their cell phones’ cameras up and ready, but the focus is not on the falling man.

You take a deep breath.

“C’mon,” you mutter under your breath. A man elbows you in the ribs, but you graciously ignore it in favour of not breaking your focus. “C’mon, c’mon, dude, show up. Show up. Don’t be a false reporting and an unnecessary trauma, c’mon.”

A gunshot is heard from somewhere within the apartment building. A window breaks, but it’s hard to say if it’s because of the bullet or the lean, male figure that jumped through it.

The crowd gasps as if one person, heads and cameras both immediately snapping towards the new person, clad in unmistakable red and blue. You allow yourself a satisfied smirk. He free falls for a moment, and someone shrieks, and you don’t bother trying to suppress your snort because, come on, it’s obvious that in the very next second, he’s going to— yup, Spiderman shoots a web, as Spiderman tends to do, and swings towards the suited man in a pleasant, even arch.

OK. Good. So, Spiderman is here.

Time to get into position.

“Excuse me, sorry,” you mutter as you fight your way through the crowd, trying to secure a nice spot around the edge, towards the closer side. People don’t really mind you, looking awestruck with their mouths slightly open as Spiderman’s hands steadily encircle the torso of the man who was previously plummeting towards certain death, very heroic indeed. And anyways — you’re a native New Yorker. Meaning you’re not above a little elbowing here and there when the situation calls for it. “Sorry, I’m coming through, excuse me.”

The crowd spits you out at the edge.

After stumbling a little, you huff, fixing the straps of your backpacks on your shoulders, and ruffling your hair.

You walk a little closer, just in time to hear the crowd erupt in a loud cheer as Spiderman touches ground, the loan shark looking man in his forties held bridal style in his arms. God, now that’s a sight. You should’ve brought your camera — if only you didn’t catch the report on Spidey-Watch so last minute while stepping off the subway.

OK. Approximately 25 seconds, now. That’s what you have.

You lean down to retie the shoelaces of your trainers. Tightly. With a double knot, and all.

Spiderman sets the man on his feet. Tentatively, the man, too, releases the hold he has around Spiderman’s shoulders.

He looks shaken, understandably. Face pale, clearly on the brink of vomiting, legs shaking as he takes a few tentative steps. The reality that his bones didn’t end up cracking into a million little pieces seems to sink in for him as he cries, hands flying back to grip onto the vigilante’s shoulders. “You saved me, Spiderman.”

“Yeah.” Spiderman nods. He pats the man’s hands on his shoulders — maybe in a show of comfort, maybe in an awkward attempt to get them off. “Please make more responsible deals in the future. Preferably not with the, y’know, uh. . . the mob.”

“I didn’t know they were the mob, Spiderman.” The man shakes his head, voice very utterly serious, before giving himself away by swallowing.

“Of course you didn’t,” Spiderman complies.

“Of course I didn’t,” the man affirms. He gasps, taking his hands off of Spiderman’s latex suit clad shoulders to rummage through the inner pockets of his suit jackets. “Wait a second.”

You take the chance to walk closer to the scene on the sidelines while the crowd is busy watching intently as the man produces a 5$ Starbucks gift card. Some gasp, some sigh in awe. Personally, you just think he’s a bit of a cheap ass loser as you grip your voice recorder tighter, fingers hovering ready over the buttons.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” Spiderman shakes his head as he declines the generous offer, holding out his palms in rejection.

“Please, take it,” says the man, pushing the gift card into the vigilante’s chest before swiftly letting it go, so that the other has no chance but to grab it before it falls to the ground. “Let me repay you. Thank you, Spiderman.”

“Thank you, Spiderman,” the crowd echoes.

The scene is a bit funny. In the same way it’s funny when people clap when a plane lands.

OK. About 10 seconds now.

Spiderman quickly says his goodbyes to his impromptu audience, throwing up a few peace signs here and there while shooting a web behind him, ready to take off.

“Goodbye, you people. Drink water and, uh, stay safe!” Spiderman starts walking backwards as he speaks, gradually gaining speed. “Oh, and wear sunscreen!”

The crowd answers, “We will, Spiderman!”

And just like that, Spiderman is off.

It’s your time to shine. In your comfortable running trainers, you take off on the pavement, right under where he swings, attention divided between evading fellow pedestrians and keeping an eye on the arachnid vigilante.

“Spiderman! Hey, Spiderman!” you shout. For a moment, you swear you see him teeter. “Spiderman, I’m ___ from the NYU Weekly, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

Nothing.

Spiderman keeps swinging. So, what to do, you keep running.

“Spiderman!” you continue, “I study journalism with a minor in communications and am writing my thesis on the presentation of superheroes in the media, and I think an interview with you could give great insight on the subject to the academics!”

Spiderman keeps swinging.

In your heedlessness, you faintly crash into one of the green, metal bins out on the street with your hip, letting out a painful yelp as you press a palm against the most likely forming bruise to soothe the pain.

But still, you keep running.

“Miss!” you hear someone shout. Snapping your head up, you see Spiderman looking down on you as he glides through the air, expression hidden behind his mask but voice a bit desperate. “Miss, please stop doing this, it’s very dangerous.”

“Give me an interview?” you try, starting to get out of breath.

You’ve never gotten this far before. Usually, he manages to shake you off pretty quickly at the first approaching street corner. This is a bit more than what you’ve been working out in the university’s gym for.

This might just be your chance, though— Spiderman actually acknowledged your presence, it’s been like half a minute and you’re still hot on his trail, and your new running shoes, although very, very fugly, are holding up great so far.

But before you have a chance to give it another try, a few — unexpected to your calculations — things happen in quick succession.

You hear Spiderman let out an uncharacteristical squeak, and the next thing you know, you’re falling back on your ass, some of the textbooks in your backpack painfully digging into your back as you collide with a news stand by the crosswalk.

A few metres from you, cars start speeding down the road as the lights turn green.

“I’m really sorry, miss!” Spiderman shouts once more. “Soak it in one part water and one part vinegar overnight! And be more careful watching where you’re going, please!”

And with that, Spiderman turns the corner, and away he swings above the New York traffic.

Well. There’s always next time.

Groaning, you push yourself up into a squat with both hands on the ground, before massaging the strain in the top of your neck where your head has jerked back upon impact with the news stand.

All over your chest, are slimy, gooey, sticky white spiderwebs. You try not to cry.

The sweater is cashmere.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi Min, a short, mint-haired communications major senior with cat-like tendencies and an endless temperament, (and your best friend since the diapers, but that’s worth mentioning only on the margins), whisper-yells as you slide into the seat next to him during the ongoing lecture.

Eyes on the presentation screen, you pull your laptop and water bottle out of your bag without any haste, trying to get an idea of which lecture of yours you are even sitting in on right now. You catch a few buzzwords like defamation, source credibility, Johnny Depp, and deep fakes on the presentation.

Introduction to Media Law, is the most feasible conclusion you can come to.

“I had a lead,” you mutter to Yoongi as you power up OneNote on your screen.

“You mean you stalked him on Twitter,” Yoongi corrects. He drops his stylus in favour of tugging on the sweater you didn’t have time to change out of, curiously touching the gooey remains of spiderwebs before wiping it back into the material from his fingers with a scrunched up face. “Ew. You look as if someone depraved just came all across your tits. What the fuck did you do this time?”

“As you can see, I had an actual interaction with Spiderman this time.” You smirk. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Details are unimportant. The point is, now I’m sure he knows who I am, and the next time he sees me he’ll—”

“Wait,” Yoongi interrupts. “What do you mean next time? Namjoon told you to give up on the article.”

“That’s only because Namjoon’s been dumped again and became a defeatist.” You shake your head. The lecturer asks a question, so you start randomly typing on your keyboard. Old man Professor Hendersson’s a softie, he wouldn’t call on a student busy in the making of the perfect lecture notes. Some person in the third row answers him, and so you continue to do the same to Yoongi. “Dude’s gonna be kissing my feet when I make him the first NYU Weekly editor who signs off on an Avengers feature.”

“Avengers-adjacent.” Yoongi corrects.

“Spiderman wouldn’t appreciate you saying that.”

Yoongi snorts. “What a relief Spiderman won’t hear shit of what I say.”

“Hey guys,” whispers a third voice.

Jungkook Jeon — shy, giggly, fellow journalism major junior with a long haircut that makes him look like a triangle kimbap — slides into the other seat next to Yoongi, only a notebook and a branded cup of coffee in hand.

He looks slightly out of breath, cheeks aflame, and clothes messy, his large black t-shirt hanging inside out on his lean figure. It’s 11:42, which might as well be the ass crack of dawn in Jungkook-terms. He must’ve slept in.

Jungkook settles in the seat, taking a sip of his coffee with the straw as he turns the pages of his notebook to the next blank. That is when he seems to remember something.

Before he could even look over and ask, you reach over Yoongi (who scratches your arm that blocks his sight of his iPad, HayDay opened, which is not very nice of him, is it, but see — the aforementioned cat-like tendencies) to hand him the pen you’ve fished out of your bag the moment Jungkook sat down.

You know him too well.

Cheeks going a bit pinker, Jungkook huffs, accepting the pen as he whispers, “Thanks, ___”

“Welcome, as usual.”

Yoongi pipes up, his interrogative gaze turning to Jungkook this time. “And you? Been on a coffee date, debating existentialism and forgot time exists? Why am I the only one taking my education seriously?”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “No offence, dude, but the only thing I see you taking seriously is trying to hack into Seokjin’s farm to sell his raspberry cupcakes to yourself.”

“I need to sell some to Greg.” Yoongi shrugs. “And I, unlike you dipshits, was here on time, wasn’t I?”

“I was at my Stark internship,” Jungkook whispers, before mumblingly adding, “In case it was genuine curiosity.”

You sigh. You look at this boy, with a hint of pity in your eyes. So young, so bright, way too cute for his own good, but just a bit too easy for this big, bad world. “Jungkook?”

“Hm?” he hums.

“Do you think you’ll ever get hired?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that, didn’t you say you’ve been interning for him since junior year of high school?” you continue. In your years of friendship with the guy, steady since the freshmen camp in Upstate NY he ditched after a day and a half, you’ve heard your fair share about this internship at whichever branch of Tony Stark’s company, both from Jungkook and his childhood friends, Jimin and Taehyung alike. “It sounds like the old Ironbag is exploiting your labour for me. Go somewhere you’re appreciated. And is relevant to your studies.”

“Damn, I just realised it.” Yoongi pipes up.

You didn’t dignify him with asking the question. Yoongi’s eyes are screaming bullshit. You’ve known your own childhood friend for a bit too long to fall for an obvious bait like that.

Jungkook, who has been looking at you with a nervous glint in his eyes, though, is seemingly not as seasoned as you are. “Realised what?”

“Thank you so much for asking, Jungkook,” Yoongi pats the younger boy’s arm, before turning to you. “I’ve realised that you’re exhibiting extreme levels of jobless behaviour and should take your own advice first.” Next, he addresses Jungkook again. “Can you believe she was chasing Spiderman down the city this morning, too? That’s jobless. Jungkookie can at least put the Stark stuff on his resume.”

“I can, too,” you protest. The only reason you’re doing any of this is for the good of your academic advancement, after all. And if you get some brownie points with Namjoon for it, too… well?

“Yeah, you can put ‘stalker psycho’ as a previous position,” Yoongi says. “Will open lots of doors for you.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I become the first journalist to get an interview with Spiderman, like, ever, and get hired to The New York Times straight out of college, but you do you, Yoongles.”

“Correction. Put ‘delusional stalker psycho.’”

“I—”

“Why do you want it so bad, anyways?” Jungkook interrupts, quickly averting his eyes when you look over at him again and catch him staring at your chest, and. . . right. Spider goo on your sweater. As already stated, he interrupted your bickering, but good thing he did, because you already have one hand in the air ready to whack Yoongi, and killing him might not be appropriate behaviour during lecture. Even if none of you are paying attention to it, and skinning Yoongi alive would be much more beneficial to your career in the long run. “You could just get an interview with Daredevil for the thesis. I think he gives out interviews from time to time.”

Yoongi snickers. “She’s scared of Daredevil.”

“I’m scared of Hell’s Kitchen,” you correct. “That’s very different.”

“It’s understandable, though,” Jungkook says, smiling sweetly at you while he doodles on the corner of his notebook. “The crime rate is a bit high there. I get it.”

“Oh, no Jungkookie, you don’t.” Yoongi shakes his head. He has a shit-eating grin curling on the edge of his lips, looking you up and down coyly as he whispers to Jungkook in dramatics. “She’s afraid of Hell’s Kitchen because she used to think Gordon Ramsey was Daredevil. Wanted to avoid him at all costs.”

It’s silent for the while — well, silent between the three of you. Professor Hendersson has started playing some video on the screen and that’s pretty loud.

Poor man has no clue on how to control the speaker system.

“I’m… pretty sure he’s not,” Jungkook says tentatively.

“Tell that to an 8 year-old me who was awfully confused by Hell’s Kitchen, the neighbourhood and Hell’s Kitchen, the television show.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend. “You’re right, Yoongi, I don’t get it.”

Yoongi pats his arms. “No problem, Jungkook. Being weird as fuck is her only charm.”

Jungkook looks ready to either confirm or fight that standpoint, but you interrupt.

“Anyways, I want the interviewee to be Spiderman, because… Lots of reasons, actually.” You sigh, thinking about how to put it into words. “First of all, most signs point towards him being young, like, around our age. He’s part of the digital native generation so he probably has different and potentially more complex views on social media and how it affects his job than the old farts and defrosted chickens in the Avengers. We could also assume he’s very media conscious, judging by how extremely lowkey his direct presence on the internet is, and yet he has a very unique relationship with the Spiderheads.”

“And who the fuck are those?” Yoongi asks.

Surprisingly, it’s not you, but Jungkook who answers for him. “His fans.”

“Please, not you, too,” Yoongi sighs, looking at Jungkook in horror.

The younger boy is very quick to shake his head. Vehemently. “Nah, nah, it’s not like that, I’m just very. . . uh, chronically online, you know.”

“You might wanna fix that, then.”

“Also,” you butt in. If you’ve started explaining, you want to finish explaining. Men, and their short attention span, God. “He just seems like a genuinely nice guy, you know? Other superheroes tend to end up in all sorts of scandals, and despite being high-profile and being around for years now, Spiderman’s slate is spotty clean. So he either has a killer PR team or he’s really just, like, a really nice and responsible guy, y’know? But it makes him a bit. . . well, impersonal when it comes down to it. I don’t wanna do an exposé or anything like that, of course, but I think people would like hearing his thoughts on stuff.”

“And you have the hots for him.” Yoongi adds.

Jungkook squeaks, and your hands shoot out to smack Yoongi on the chest. It’s a reflex, at this point.

“I do not have the hots for him,” you protest.

“Jesus Christ, how did I not realise,” Yoongi bemoans. “You so wanna fuck him, you samaritan-sexual freak.”

“You say that like being attracted to good people is a bad thing,” you hiss.

“Okay, here we go.” Yoongi points at you with his stylus. “Fuck, marry, kill: Hulk in Hulk form, Gordon Ramsey, Spiderman.”

“Dude, that’s so rigged!” you object.

“That’s what you get.” Yoongi shrugs.

“Kill Gordon Ramsey, fuck Hulk Hulk, marry Spiderman.” You give in, listing them on your fingers. “Obviously.”

“Knew you were a monster fucker. Freak,” Yoongi says delightedly. You hit him in the chest again, but he pays you no mind — probably has a dent in the shape of your fist on his chest at this point to soften the blows — as he turns to Jungkook. “Okay, let’s move on. Jungkook. Fuck, marry, kill: Megan thee Stallion, Rihanna, and ___.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend with wide eyes, cheeks already aflame a deep scarlet as he anxiously chews on his now soggy paper straw.

“C’mon, Gigi, don’t tease him,” you scold him.

“What?” Yoongi protest. “It’s a good line up.”

“Ignore him, Jungkook.”

“— could give us an adequate answer to that, right, Mr. Jeon?” Professor Hendersson’s voice breaks through your little bubble as the rest of the heads in the auditorium turn towards your little trio in the back in unison.

Uh oh. Busted.

Jungkook gapes a little as his eyes flit between the presentation and his blank notebook, swallowing nervously before clearing his throat. “Um. . .”

“You might wanna answer him, though.” Yoongi mutters. Utterly, utterly unhelpful.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

Hari’s playlist of 5 Seconds of Summer — a nostalgia mix, strictly made up of their first three albums’ repertoire — is blaring through your student apartment.

Sitting in front of the mirror in your room, you can hear them singing along in the living room as Hari carefully braids Piper’s hair, and you have to stifle a smile during their terribly off-key high notes as you perfect your eyeliner.

Half an hour ago, all three of your cell phones pinged in unison while watching Love Island on the couch as Seokjin messaged the big communal group chat a simple, ‘seoulite @ 9? who in?’ and a quick follow up of ‘reply or like this at least if you coming fuckers’.

Which brings you to the current scene: quickly getting ready as you wait for Taehyung and Jimin to pick you guys up since they live in the same off-campus student apartment complex you do, and Taehyung doesn’t drink, but drives. (Like a maniac, really. He drives as if he did drink.)

The quickly getting ready part elongated a little bit somewhere between Hana settling on the green corduroy flares and you brushing your teeth as your phones lit up with a short additional message in the thread.

Jungkookie [20:34]: me too ^^

To his credit, Jungkook is a pretty faithful lecture-goer, and due to some cosmic coincidence, semester after semester, you guys end up in almost all of the same classes, so you, who is enrolled in the same programme he is, cannot complain about a lack of Jungkook in your life.

That cannot be said about the others, though. Piper, for one, is pretty fond of complaining about a severe Jungkook deficiency.

To put it fairly, Jungkook is not the most. . . reliable guy you know. Lacks a little bit of consistency. Too scatter-minded.

Because sometimes, the man cannot be shaken off for days on end even with some super high-tech Stark Industries scraper (for the hyperbole to work properly, please imagine that they’re producing handy tools instead of, like, weaponry).

Then, there’s the other times, the admittedly much more frequent times, when there’s just simply no sight or sign of Jungkook until he conveniently decides to pop up out of the blue again.

But to be honest, it’s the dynamic your little group always had since forming.

The first time it happened, you were worried, though. Mostly because the two of you were partnered up for a group project that was rapidly coming up all the while you couldn’t get a hold of this guy you’ve known for like three weeks at that point, but the worry, of course, extended to his person, as well.

Although, after some time, seeing how nonchalant Jimin and Taehyung — friends who have known Jungkook since the dawn of time and are thick as thieves with him — are when faced with worries over Jungkook’s where- and howabouts (‘He’s just home tending to his aunt,’ / ‘He had to travel for the Stark Internship, happens sometimes’ / ‘He sprained his ankle in the gym, no biggie’ / ‘He’s probably helping out his aunt at their restaurant for the week,’ / ‘He just travelled back to Korea for Chuseok with his family to visit relatives,’ / ‘He’s fostering a stray cat, can’t leave her alone,’ and such) you decided there’s surely no reason for you to sweat about it too much.

(And anyways, Jungkook made it up to you tenfold for that one instance. He showed up to your dorm one night with two bags of takeout from their family restaurant — amazing jajangmyeon — and braved through the assignment with you in one sitting on your shitty, spring mattress. Volunteered to hold the Q&A segment following your presentation, and stayed over late into the AMs to watch the first two Star Wars prequels with you. It really solidified your budding friendship.)

It’s probably not that easy to be all cool about any of it when you have a big fat fucking crush on the guy, though. Like Piper does, for example.

These past few weeks were also ones that have seen very little of Jungkook, so the excitement bubbling in all three of you at his message is quite understandable — it means all ten of you in the groupchat have RSVP’d Seokjin’s invitation, after all. And it’s been way too long since a get-together with everyone present.

The levels of excitement only differ where Piper got struck by a desperate need to change into a tighter pair of jeans, put on some highlighters over her eyelids, and braid her blonde hair into something called a waterfall braid.

But it’s okay. After finishing your own makeup and jumping into a looser pair of pants, you gladly join Hari and Piper in the living room to line the latter’s lips with a dark red colour. Her crush is cute.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin and Taehyung blast up Hari’s phone with announcements of their arrival and even more messages urging the three of you to make haste. They throw in a few threats of leaving you guys to fend for yourselves in a cab if you’re not down in 10, as well, but after all this time of being friends with them, you know they’re just shooting blanks.

Grabbing your coats for the chilly September nights, the three of you lock up your apartment and make your way down from the fourth floor, and into the waiting Hyundai by the sidewalk in front of the complex.

“6.34 after the first message.” Taehyung turns to Jimin who’s sitting in the passenger seat as the three of you file into the back. “Chim, can you believe that?”

“Can’t say I do, babe. It has to be a new record.”

“Do you know who edits the Guiness’? I’m gonna call them on the way.”

“Har-har-har, hello to you, too, brothers and in-laws,” Hari chirps, poking a finger through the gap between the seat and the headrest to prick the back of Jimin’s neck with her acrylics. The boy yelps, trying to snatch his younger sister’s hand, but he’s too late. “Nice evening we have here.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice evening, pleasant breeze, picturesque light pollution,” Taehyung drones on, one hand on the steering wheel while he fiddles with the radio with the other. “Let’s get a move on, are you guys ready? Have everything, all in one piece, et cetera? I have serious business to deal with Jungkook.”

“Yeah, we can leave,” you answer him, while Piper pipes up:

“What’s up with Jungkook?”

“Got a new dog,” Jimin supplies.

“And the asshole refuses to send me a picture of him,” Taehyung huffs as he drives out of the parking lot, before pointing a thumb at Jimin. “And this asshole refuses to hack Kookie’s iCloud gallery for me.”

“After all these years, which part of ethical hacking do you still not get?” Jimin sighs.

“What kind of dog did he get?” Piper follows up enthusiastically, and that conversation entertains the three of them for most of the ride.

(Jungkook got a doberman.)

Sitting by the window on the driver’s side, you drone out their conversation and occupy yourself with the city view and your thoughts.

You’ve washed your sweater. Spiderman’s washing tip has, surprisingly, worked. Which could be a nice opener for the next time you see him.

It’s been a few days since there was any sighting of him that you could catch, though.

Two days ago, Reddit was buzzing with a store robbery the vigilante has managed to stop while you slept, and yesterday, you got an alert from a Twitter account you follow called the Spidey-Watch while eating lunch in some burger joint close to campus with Seokjin and Hoseok, but it was on the far edge of Queens and you doubted you’d even get there in time to witness anything.

But never mind. Ever since you took this on the mission at the beginning of the previous spring semester, there’s one very important lesson you’ve learned: serious journalism requires patience.

And hell, if you’re not the epitome of patience by now. (Yeah, there might’ve been some problems with your inner zen in the past, but you took up yoga over the summer).

Even if just unwittingly, you lose track of the conversation in the car as you drive through Queensboro Bridge, but then a few moments later, it’s the radio playing faintly in the background that inadvertently gets your attention.

The music on the station ends in favour of the 8PM evening news, a female voice with a bit of an irritating intonation covering a few economic and political reportings your brain doesn’t quite retain, before — “. . . so with the disappearance of Amanda Porter, we urge the young population of New York City to be particularly cautious in the upcoming weeks as the number of missing person cases increases all over the city. Especially people in their late teens to early twenties are advised to avoid remote areas and travelling alone at night. The New York Police Department’s Missing Persons Unit has yet release a follow-up statement since their press conference on —”

“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung mutters as he quickly turns the volume down, sharing a concerned look with Jimin from the corner of his eyes.

The rest of the ride over to Queens passes quietly.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The Seoulite is a small, Korean hole-in-the-wall type of bar, except it is not as much of a bar as just the owner, an old woman commonly just called Auntie Aecha’s street-front apartment with a second-hand bar from Ebay dumped into her kitchen in the place of an island, and a couple of tables and chairs scattered around her entrance hall and living room.

Don’t ask. You’re not quite certain of its legality, either.

A few things to know about Auntie Aecha:

She’s a compulsive hoarder, and the decoration (or maybe, at this point, with its excessiveness, the lack thereof) proclaims it loudly. The place is packed with rugs, vases, paintings, magazines, lamps, biblical figurines, blankets, pottery and a wide array of trinkets laying around everywhere.

She has three cats, a dog, and a parrot freely roaming around the place. You’ve never learned their names, but that’s because their names keep changing every time you're here and not because your lack of trying, even when Auntie Aecha, despite her impressive age of 70 and some mystery as she says, doesn’t display any of the typical symptoms that usually come with old age, like forgetfulness. She just simply keeps calling them different fucking names, so you’ve stopped trying to keep up.

And lastly included in this list that obviously lacks completeness — she’s a self-proclaimed psychic. No other comments on that.

Namjoon found this place accidentally (distraught from heartbreak, he was trying to go over to Jungkook’s — the only problem with that plan was that this is not the area of Queens Jungkook lives in) last year after getting dumped.

Ever since Auntie Aecha has personally nursed Namjoon’s broken heart into beating again with imported peach soju, your little group took up frequenting this bar/apartment any time the urge to get together somewhere arose. (And that was only partly because Auntie Aecha gives alcohol to those of you — Piper and Hari — who are twenty-but a little short on-one).

By the time the five of you get in tonight, everyone else is here, already sitting around your usual table by the decorative fireplace.

There’s a bit of commotion as they all stand up and everyone tries to greet everyone, before you file back into your seats. Somehow, you end up on the bench seat with Jungkook — even if you distinctly remember seeing him in the armchair, the most coveted seat, by the other side of the table — and shoot Piper an apologetic look as she dejectedly takes a seat on the puff between Namjoon and Hari.

“Congratulations on becoming a father,” you mutter to Jungkook, playfully elbowing the guy on his side.

He shoots you a confused look, eyes impossibly bigger as he peers down on you. Sitting on the small bench just enough for two people, your shoulder is pressed against his biceps. The material of his large, black hoodie is nice against the bare skin of your arms.

“Don’t look so scared, I meant your dog,” you scoff at him, teeth biting into your bottom lips as you smile. Jungkook’s gaze wanders, and you wiggle your eyebrows, “Unless there’s something else I don’t know about?”

“No, no, no, there’s… there isn’t. No,” he protests, shaking his head as spots of red freckle his cheeks.

It makes you giggle — Jungkook is rather easy to fluster, despite the many eyes that follow him around hungrily anywhere he goes. As it seems, he’s completely unaware of his own allure, when objectively speaking, Jungkook is one of the prettiest guys you’ve ever met. He has these huge sparkling eyes, an elegant nose, an endearing smile overflowing with teeth, and freckled smooth honey-skin with beauty spots to kill for. And that’s just the outside.

All in all, let’s just say that you’re not entirely blind to what captivates Piper so much.

“He’s. . . Bam,” he continues. “That’s his name. I. . . um, y’know, found him a few days ago. A stray.”

“You’re sweet, Kook,” you tell him. Seokjin with the help of Hoseok has arrived back at the table with drinks, and places your usual orders — a whiskey coke for you and wheat beer for Jungkook — in front of you guys. You quickly thank them and take a sip, fiddling with the straw as you ask, “Bam. Anything particular behind the name?”

“Yeah. It means ‘night’ in Korean,” Jungkook tells you, reaching for his own drink. “My aunt named him. You, um, you wanna see pictures?”

“Sure.” You nod, and hold your drink out of reach when Jungkook leans a bit into you to fish his cellphone out of his jeans pocket.

With two fingers, you pick the lemon out of your drink to chew on it — you’re between friends with no one to impress, so if you want to rather unflatteringly suck on the garnish, you will, thank you very much — while you watch from the corner of your eye as Jungkook unlocks his phone and starts scrolling through his gallery.

He freezes, and scrolls up and down for a long moment, before hesitantly handing over his phone to you. “This is, um,” he eloquently mumbles as a description to accomapy the picture.

You take the phone from Jungkook that’s opened on a selfie of him and a dark brown doberman in bed. The focus is clearly on the dog, given that the picture cuts off somewhere above Jungkook’s chin, and you recognise the location as his bedroom, a few Star Wars and Overwatch posters on the wall in the background giving it away.

He’s a cute dog, Bam. He looks into the camera, deep dark eyes looking weirdly intelligent, his mouth open and tongue lolling out as he’s laid back against Jungkook’s naked torso. That has abs. Like, a fucking six pack. Wow.

You know Jungkook frequents the gym, he has even accompanied you to your treadmill workouts in preparation of chasing Spiderman from time to time, but in the oversized clothes he always wears, it’s easy to forget he's not actually scrawny. Still, wow. So he has abs. Yeah. Good to know.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, so you make the executive decision to zoom in slightly on the dog as you comment, “He’s really cute, Kook. Bam looks like a smart boy.”

“Yeah, he. . . yup, he really is, very smart.”

“IS THAT BAM??!”

Suddenly, you have a Taehyung-weighted mass thrown across your lap, and two hands wrenching Jungkook’s phone out of your hold.

Caught off guard, you let out a yelp as you fall slightly over Jungkook, and you would’ve been about to spill your drink, too, if it weren’t for one of Jungkook’s hands fixing around your wrist, while the other balances both you and Taehyung by wrapping itself around your back. Quick reflexes.

“Hey, shithead!” you snap, slapping a palm over Taehyung’s back.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this cutieful little cinnamon roll from me, dude!” Taehyung cries, zooming in and out of the picture with two fingers like a boomer. “Look at Bamie! So, so adorable, look at his ey— wait. Jungkook Jeon, is this a thirst tra—”

“Tsk, children,” an accented voice chides. “Behave.”

You peek your head out behind Taehyung’s shoulder to beam up at the woman who has walked over to your table. “Auntie!”

Alerted to her presence, Taehyung assumed a position with a degree more of civility (he’s now sitting perched on your legs, back straight and legs thrown over your thighs on one side) looking up at Aecha with a toothy grin, telling her something in Korean.

The woman snorts, retorting in the same language. Jungkook fails and tries to stifle a giggle beside you.

“I brought you children a little something,” Auntie Aecha says, setting a plate of cookies on the table.

Another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: though she would never admit it to your faces, too big on that tough love shtick she has going on, it’s an open secret that your ragtag group of ten are her favourite customers.

Expressions of thanks echo around the table as all of you latch onto the cookies, Seokjin standing up to offer his seat, but Aecha denies, “No, no, sit back, sit. I won’t stay to bother you young people for long, this old lady just wanted to say hi.”

“You never bother,” Namjoon says between two bites. “Stay, Auntie, please.”

“You kids are too sweet,” she smiles, patting the boy’s shoulder with ringed fingers. Auntie Aecha has the most exquisite collection, full of emeralds and intricate silverwork, unique enough craftsmanship to match her generally eccentric style. Right now, too, she’s dressed in an elegant white blouse and a long, navy blue skirt covered in detailed patterns and a beaded shawl tied around her waist.

The conversation picks up around the table again, but Aecha lingers. “___?”

“Yes, Auntie?”

“Have you had your fortunes read lately?”

You smile at her, breaking off a piece of the cookie in Taehyung’s hand. He looks about ready to protest, if only Auntie Aecha’s presence wasn’t holding him back from whining publically. But he decided he could share your seat, so you might as well share his cookie, right? Simple and fair.

“You know you’re the only one who does me readings,” you tell her.

Sometimes when the group is fewer in numbers, or when you visit in the afternoon for a cup of coffee, you entertain her charade from time to time. You think it’s rather silly — yes, you live in a world with Scandinavian Gods and purple evil aliens, but no way in hell a random old lady in Queens is, like, an actual psychic. Who tells the future from tarot cards, of all things. Right. . .

Aecha hums. “Right. . . The Wheel of Fortune. What does it mean?”

You’re unsure whether the question is directed on the card’s meaning in general, or on its possible effect on your life. But regardless, the answer to both scenarios is:

“I don’t know.”

She does that thing. The thing that chills you to the bone sometimes, the thing when her eyes seem to dim, like there’s no sight or soul in them, and her face looks paler for a moment under the lights. She fixes her gaze on you, before it slips over to Jungkook.

You feel his fingers, that are still splattered across your back, tighten as he stares back.

“So soon?” Aecha mutters, then: she snaps out of it. A smile is back on her face, a bit weaker than before, as she says. “Very well, then. I’ll leave you kids to it. There’s a clue in the night, ___.”

And with that, she walks off.

Slowly, Jungkook retracts his hand from your waist, while Taehyung’s head whips around towards the two of you. “So, that was weird as fuck, huh?”

“Right. . .” Jungkook and you both mumble.

You break a bigger piece off of Taehyung’s cookie, and then break that into halves again before offering one of them to Jungkook. He seems spaced out, but readily accepts it.

That’s another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: she says weird, cryptic shit sometimes. But that’s how you love her.

“‘There’s a clue in the night, ___’,” Taehyung repeats in a deepened, mysterious baritone. He wiggles his fingers in your face, which you promptly swap away. “Any clue what that might mean?”

“None.” You shake your head.

“Anyways.” Taehyung shrugs, picking Jungkook’s phone back up, and giddily scrolling through his gallery. “Let me look at more of these Bam pictures.”

You sigh. You’ve long since stopped whacking your brain to figure out what Auntie Aecha’s off handed comments might mean. They’re usually just similar nonsense.

Suddenly, Taehyung is yanked off your lap just as abruptly as he came, before Yoongi’s fingers latch onto your forearm next. “Bitch, I need you at the table soccer, pronto.”

“And that’s my cue, guys,” you sigh, before standing up.

After ruffling Jungkook’s hair, you step over Taehyung who’s now splattered on the floor, then take one last sip of your drink, and leave it besides Jungkook’s beer on the table.

He’s the only motherfucker here you can trust not to drink it while you’re away.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The following Thursday evening finds you tucked away in one of the public libraries of Queens, sharing a table with Hoseok who quietly types away on his short story, while you add the finishing touches to your article for next week’s newspaper before sending it over to Namjoon for editing.

Originally, you guys came over to the neighbourhood because you accompanied Hoseok to pick up these sneakers that he found on Facebook Marketplace, which turned out to be a total scam, unfortunately.

So, in Queens and awfully unaccomplished, the two of you tried to ring up to Jungkook’s (his aunt answered the intercom, Jungkook’s apparently out) and to Namjoon’s (where you guys actually got in, but were promptly kicked out at 6PM because some show Namjoon’s grandmother is obsessed with like a teenager was starting on the telly, and she doesn’t want you kids around to make a rattle) so without any idea of what to do, the two of you decided to retreat to the next best option of a free shelter in Queens, since you’ve already made the commute here. That’s the library.

“What’s another word for ‘motivating’? As an adjective,” you ask Hoseok, taking a sip of water.

“Duh. ‘Inspiring’,” Hoseok says without even looking up from his laptop. Or stopping typing, for that matter.

“It makes me so happy that you hold my intelligence to such high regards, friend.” You kick his shin under the table, but it does little to deter him. “I meant besides that and ‘encouraging’, obviously.”

“‘Impelling’, ‘propelling’, maybe ‘provoking’ depending on the context,” Hoseok lists like the walking thesaurus he is — the pros of having a friend in the English major.

“Thanksie yousie.”

“Bless you.”

You finish typing up the article, and send it over to Namjoon’s school mail inbox. Without anything to do now, you immediately fall victim to boredom.

Hoseok seems to be in the flow, though, fingers rapidly flying over the keyboard as he mumbles under his breath, so you scroll through your newsfeed for a while — someone won the lottery this week, a politician is under suspicion of tax fraud, wow, who would’ve thought, another disappearance happened in Manhattan, a baby giraffe was born in the zoo, nothing about Spiderman since you’ve last checked — before opening up a Watermelon Game with cat pictures on the web to occupy yourself with for the time being.

Some ten minutes pass with that before the silence is broken again.

“So how’s the Spiderman thing coming along?” Hoseok asks.

After combining two large, yawning cats into an even larger, screaming and wet one, you meet his gaze over your computer screens.

“Steady,” you simply say, and it’s vague enough not to constitute a lie. You let another baby kitten fall from the metaphorical sky. “Why?”

“Yoongi told me about the spider cum on your sweater.”

“Ew, it’s not fuckin—” you shriek, earning yourself a few ‘ssh’s and a dirty look from the librarian. You nod your head in apology with an awkward smile. Bending your laptop’s screen slightly, you lean in closer to hiss, “It’s not fucking spider cum.”

“Think about it,” Hoseok argues. “It’s his bodily fluid.”

“Actually, a few people on the forums think it might be synthetic,” you tell him.

“You’re just gonna have to ask him that, too.”

Humming, you take your phone out to make a quick note of it. That’s actually a pretty relevant question — for science.

“Yoongi also told me that you left class early to try and catch him again yesterday and just ended up falling into Meadow Lake,” Hoseok continues.

“So why are you asking me then, if you already know everything?”

“I’m just curious. Unlike the others, I do kinda think that you’re gonna get somewhere.” Hoseok shrugs. He continues typing as he adds. “All this embarrassment without some sort of a pay-off? Nah. Karma is kinder than that.”

That’s. . . wow, that was actually pretty nice to hear. Impelling, if you will.

Even if it was a little — a lot — backhanded.

“Aww. Hobi. . .” You pout, kicking his leg under the table playfully. “My only fan.”

“Lukewarm supporter,” he corrects.

“Whatever,” you brush him off. “Actually, nothing much happened besides those. Taking the subway back home drenched and stinking was a humbling experience, but I’m just gonna have to keep going. For the pay-off, like you said.”

Hoseok just hums again, and turns back to his writing, his curiosity seemingly running dry. Whatever.

For the next twenty-something minutes, you occupy yourself by playing round after round of Dress to Impress with Yoongi (later joined by Seokjin and Hari, as well) and you have lots of fun downrating each other’s outfits, so you don’t really accomplish anything. But who cares.

‘ur ootd look like smthng drawn on a deflated balloon lol ugly butt @ yunkiboongi’ you type in the chat, whipping out the lame PG-13 insults in consideration of the fact that, you know, Roblox is for middle schoolers, when Hoseok unceremoniously snaps his laptop shut, standing up from his seat.

“I’m perched. A quick drink at Seoulite before we leave the ‘hood?”

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

After consulting Google Maps, the two of you make the twenty-minute walk through Queens to Aecha’s. Sharing Hoseok’s Airpods, you listen to Epic Sax on repeat on the way, while you try to bring up the topic of Namjoon as subtly as possible.

See, you and Jungkook have a running theory.

It’s not long — it’s just that Hoseok and Namjoon are in love with each other, possibly secretly dating already (this is the point where you guys usually lose the rest of your friends when trying to get them onto the bandwagon, and to be honest, your faith has wavered at this point too, but then Jungkook raised a good point: for the past six months, you haven’t even seen pictures of these people, let alone meet them, that Namjoon is apparently getting dumped by biweekly. Jungkook thinks keeping up the pretence of Namjoon being an unlucky serial dater is part of their elaborate cover-up plan) so Jungkook and you are trying to get any sort of hint or confirmation on the matter, like the nosey little bitches you two are.

Whatever. You come up empty. After droning on about Namjoon’s chest, like ‘He has really nice tits, doesn’t he?’ and ‘You kinda just wanna suffocate buried between them, am I right?’, which are not at all subtle, you admit, you come to the conclusion that Hoseok must be either oblivious, a damn good liar, or not in love with Namjoon, which you personally refuse to believe.

When you round the corner to the street of the Seoulite, the two of you step into the flashing of red and blue police lights in the pitch black night. Confused, you hand the borrowed half of the earbuds back to Hoseok, furrowing your brows as you two keep walking closer.

A smaller crowd has gathered around the block that you know houses the Seoulite, some clearly passersby and others most likely denizens of the neighbouring buildings, clad in their pyjamas and a coat in the evening hours.

“What the fucks going on?” you croak, grabbing onto the arm of Hoseok’s coat with two fingers as the two of you squeeze into the crowd.

The pavement in front of Auntie Aecha’s door is railed off with a police line, officers moving in and out of her apartment through the opened door.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Hari and Jimin were here just this morning.

A weak rumble befalls the crowd as people whisper to each other, too quiet and too much for you to overhear anything.

You rummage through your backpack, taking a deep breath before noticing two officers engaged in conversation by the police line.

“Excuse me?” you call out.

One of them turns, sparing you a look over his shoulders, before saying. “Not now, kid. Please wait for the official reports.”

“I’m ___ from NYU Weekly News,” you continue, flashing him the press card you have procured from your bag.

“School paper’s covering crimes now, girl?” The officer sighs, but walks closer to inspect your ID nevertheless.

“Always did,” you reply. It’s a bit of a stretch.

The most illegal activity you’ve written about was someone stealing a piano from the music room. Which was a fun one, by the way, because how the fuck do you steal a piano without anyone noticing, and yet. . .

“Okay,” the policeman says, not entirely convinced. “The owner’s kids from Kentucky requested a wellness check. We did it. The apartment shows clear signs of struggle, and the owner couldn’t be reached, so the NYPD is opening a missing person’s case, suspecting kidnapping. And that’s all I can tell you, kid.”

You swallow, grip tightening around Hoseok’s wrists, who has gone just as rigid as you did.

“Thank you, officer.”

The man nods, and leaves the two of you alone as he walks back to his colleague.

Hoseok looks at you, expression baffled as he reaches for your hand. His tight hold is welcome. You feel like you’re about to vomit.

“Auntie Aecha’s missing?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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