#pretty young for a junior in college but maybe he did a lot of college classes in high school

[starlitangels]

Me: *reads 100% of the new timeline with no filters so I know when everything is*

Me: *does some quick math*

So. Unless Vincent’s birthday is in January or the first 12 days of February, he was turned when he was 19

#Redacted ASMR #Redacted Audio #Redacted Vincent #Vincent Solaire #Vincent #pretty young for a junior in college but maybe he did a lot of college classes in high school #and started college as a sophomore instead of a freshman

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Spring Fling

(gif by @pedropascalsx. I've given up using Tumblr gif search)

Pairing: Marcus Pike x virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 19,228. Oops.

Warnings: Significant age gap (almost 20 years), college-age reader, sexual tension, mentions of: strained familial relationships, divorce, unhealthy breakups, stalker(ish) behavior (PAST), therapy. Virgin/inexperienced reader, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected PIV sex and a lot of it, comeplay if you squint, Marcus’s filthy filthy mouth, happy ending

Summary: When you and your friend, fellow pre-Law student Emma, plan to go to Washington DC for spring break instead of the typical beach destination, she makes plans for the two of you to stay with her estranged father for the week to save money on lodging. You never expected Emma’s father, a man she says she’s barely seen throughout the years, to be so sweet, so troubled, and so unfairly pretty. Neither did you expect for what you'd thought was a one-sided attraction to turn into a spring fling... or maybe something more.

A/N: I got an ask asking about 'Best Friend's Dad' Marcus Pike, so I now post a question to you, dear reader: What if Marcus Pike had a college-age kid from his first marriage, one that he'd entered into at a very young age because of an unplanned pregnancy? Anyway to find out the answer read this almost 20k fic LOL

Masterlist

"We should go somewhere for spring break."

Your friend and fellow pre-Law student at the University of Texas, Emma, laughs. "Go somewhere? Like what, the fucking beach? And with what money?"

"No, no beaches. Somewhere cool. Somewhere unusual."

"Like what?" Emma asks, shoving another handful of chips in her mouth.

"I've never been to Washington, DC," you comment thoughtfully.

"I thought every public school in the entire country went to DC at some point," Emma remarks. 

"I had the chickenpox."

"Ew."

"Do you think that would be fun? Going to the Capitol for break?" you ask.

"I guess," Emma shrugs. "It's better than going to writhe on the beach with fifty thousand wasted twentysomethings."

"There's still the issue of how to pay for a trip. For any trip. I think I could cover airfare, but a DC hotel? Ugh," you say with a groan. 

"I could put the hotel on my credit card and work a bunch of extra shifts at Pizza Express afterward to make up for it," Emma says. "But that would pretty much max out my card."

"I can look up the cheapest spots outside the city," you suggest. "And we can take the metro in."

"Outside the city isn't going to be much better," Emma remarks. "We could… nah."

You look up, curious. "We could… what?"

"Well, my uh, my dad actually lives in DC."

"Your dad?" you repeat incredulously. "You've literally never mentioned your dad. I thought he and your mom were estranged?"

"Sorta," Emma says. "The official story is that they married too young and eventually separated."

"...And the unofficial story?"

"My mom found out she was pregnant at nineteen, and my dad wanted to do the right thing, so he married her. But I guess they weren't right for each other, because they were already divorced by the time I was two."

"Do you see him much?" you ask.

"I used to," Emma says quietly. "But my mom was never really enthusiastic about spending much time together, so it wasn’t very often. And then he moved to DC when I was a junior in high school, and I haven't seen him since. He always sends me cards on my birthday and Christmas, though. And…" she suddenly blushes, looking down and away.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What, Em?"

"He pays for my tuition."

"What?!"

"Yeah, I've barely had to take out any loans. It's just for housing and stuff."

"You ass, you never told me that!"

"It's not common knowledge," Emma mumbles. "Besides, no one wants to admit they've got an absent, divorced father paying the bills."

"But you'd want to contact him for this? For a place to crash over spring break for a week?"

"He's nice," Emma says quietly. "I always got the feeling that he wanted to do his best by us."

"I mean, if you're cool with it, it kinda sounds fun," you admit. "Better than Galveston, anyway."

Emma laughs. "Yeah, way better than Galveston."

"Holy shit, Em, you can see the Capitol from here." 

The two of you had emerged from the underground tunnel of the metro station, trailing suitcases behind you, into what feels like the middle of the city itself. The busy street is flanked with large condominiums on both sides, with--unbelievably--a view of the Capitol building in the distance.

"I think it's this one," Emma says, squinting at the address on her phone and back up at one of the buildings. 

"How do we get in?" you ask. 

"He just said to text him," Emma answers. "Hang on." She taps out a message on her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. "And now we wait."

You barely have time to check your email before the front door opens and a man emerges, striding quickly toward the two of you. You think he's about to envelop your friend into a crushing hug, but he stops short, eyes wavering with uncertainty as he looks his daughter up and down. His hand reaches toward her arm, but he hesitates just short of touching.

"Emma," the man breathes, the emotion evident in his voice making you want to duck your head and turn away from the scene. 

"Hey, uh, Dad," Emma says, giving him a sheepish smile. "Been a while."

"It's been six years," the man says emphatically. 

"Yeah."

You watch as Emma's father's fingers twitch toward her. "C-Can I–" 

Emma shrugs. "'Course."

The man carefully steps forward and wraps his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. His eyes close, his eyebrows pull upward to reveal a deep crease in between them as he holds his daughter for apparently the first time in six years. This time, you do look away from what feels like surprisingly tender and private moment. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for your graduation," you hear him say softly. "I was undercover for a case, and… Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry. You don't know how badly I wanted to be there."

"S'okay," Emma says cooly. She steps back, and, for the first time, her father seems to notice you. 

"Hi," he says brightly, and his pained, heartfelt expression melts into an easy smile as he extends his hand to you. "Marcus." 

You don't know what you had been expecting. Maybe someone older. Maybe someone less… attractive. Not this frankly gorgeous man, with his boyish smile, pretty eyes that crinkle around the edges, slightly mussed brown hair that falls over his forehead, and the light smattering of facial hair that only seems to soften his features further. Not that he needed any help, in that respect. Slightly stunned, you step forward and take the man’s hand, trying not to trip over the syllables of your own name.

Marcus’s smile widens, and he repeats your name, which does nothing to quell the sudden burst of butterflies in your stomach–and are your palms sweating?

"Thank you for allowing us to stay for the week," you say politely, forcing yourself out of the trance.

"Not a problem," Marcus answers. "What a great destination for spring break! Whose idea was that?"

"Mine," you say with a little laugh. 

"My kind of girl," Marcus jokes. "Keeping my daughter out of trouble."

"Dad," Emma groans. "I'm not a kid."

"Well, last time I saw you, you were fifteen," Marcus says pointedly. "You're gonna have to let my brain do a little catch-up, here."

"Well, to start with, I'm not a beach party kind of person," Emma says. "I'm a nerd–y'know, being pre-Law and all."

Emma's father beams. "So I've heard. Well, I'm happy to host two nerds while they do a little sightseeing in the nation's Capitol. I can even," he adds with a conspiratorial smile, "give you a tour of the J. Edgar Hoover building. If–If you want," he finishes awkwardly, appearing hesitant and unsure again.

"Oh, cool!" you exclaim automatically, without thinking.

Marcus grins widely at your enthusiasm, and you find yourself staring at your shoes, biting your lip as you flounder under his attention. You're being weird. Stop it. 

"Y-Yeah," Emma adds, nodding hesitantly. "That would be nice... Dad. Thanks."

“C’mon,” Marcus says, grabbing both Emma’s bag and, before you can protest, yours. “Come on up. I ordered some pizza for everyone. You can get settled tonight and… go do whatever you two want to do in the morning.”

The two of you follow Marcus through the lobby and into the elevator. You can’t help but keep stealing little glances at him–the way his shoulders fill out the maroon henley he’s wearing over jeans, the way those shoulders taper down to narrow hips, the way he’s got the top two buttons of his shirt casually undone, showing you a hint of collarbone that has you damn-near salivating. Snap out of it. Oh, God, snap out of it. You’ve known the man for five minutes, and you feel like you’re losing your mind. It’s gonna be a long week if you don’t pull it together. 

Marcus opens the front door and gestures the two of you in before him. You stand awkwardly in the living room, looking around at the furniture and at the decor on the walls, looking anywhere but at your best friend’s dad, whose very presence seems to fluster you beyond all reason.

“I just have one spare room, hopefully you two don’t mind sharing…?” Marcus asks.

“That’s fine,” Emma says good-naturedly. 

“It’s just through here,” he says, walking past you. “I’ll set your bags down in there and show you around.”

The room is clearly his workspace–there’s a desk and a chair shoved into a corner to make room for a comfortable-looking guest bed. The side wall is covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and you subconsciously step toward them, eager to see what titles this man keeps on his shelves.

“Sorry, it’s kind of an… all-purpose room,” Marcus says sheepishly. “Bit cluttered.”

“I like it,” you murmur absentmindedly, still scanning the spines.

“‘Gardner’s Art Through the Ages’” Emma reads, crinkling her nose. “How many editions of this book do you have?”

Her father laughs. “It’s work stuff, mostly. Although there’s a few thrillers here and there. And some classics.” He approaches the shelves as well, and you can feel the hair on the back of your neck start to stand up on end at the sensation of his body hovering just behind you. You’re so… aware of him. You don’t know if it’s because Marcus seems to naturally command every space he’s in or if there’s something electric that’s pulling you toward him, but either way, your entire body feels as though it’s on high alert.

A sharp buzzing makes you jump comically, making Emma snort.

“That’ll be the pizza,” Marcus announces. “Be right back.”

You glance over at Emma, who is still staring disinterestedly at the bookshelves. “It’s a nice place,” you say conversationally. 

“Mmmhm.”

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma scoffs, waving her hand. “Just been a while. It’s weird. You know.”

“He seems nice,” you say.

“He is,” she remarks. “I told you he was. I just… don’t know him very well. Like he said, I haven’t seen him in six years.”

“Maybe this will be good, then,” you suggest. “Get to know him now that you’re an adult and all that.”

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

You look back at the shelves. Emma was right; Marcus does have an alarmingly large number of editions of Art Through the Ages. You furrow your brow.

“What does your dad do in DC?”

“Oh, did I not tell you? He’s in the FBI.”

You feel as though you’ve swallowed your tongue, but before you can garble out a response–something like, “Mmmgnnbbllgffnhh?”–you hear Marcus coming back.

“Get it while it’s hot!” he says cheerfully. “You guys must be hungry after traveling all day.”

“Oh wow, Dad, that’s… a lot of pizza for three people,” Emma says, her eyebrows raising in surprise and confusion.

She’s right–there are five boxes sitting on the small kitchen island, along with several options of drink.

“I had no idea what either of you liked,” Marcus reasoned. “So I got a few different options. Cheese, pepperoni, supreme, hawaiian, and some kind of vegan thing, just in case.”

“You know, you could have just texted,” Emma remarks, at the same time that you whisper, “Thank you.”

Marcus looks sheepish. “Wanted to surprise you. Anyway, dig in–there’s obviously a lot.” He laughs quietly to himself, grabbing three plates and setting them down on the counter. You grab three different kinds–supreme, hawaiian, and the vegan option, out of curiosity–and sit on one of the barstools opposite Marcus. Emma grabs two cheeses and sits down next to you.

“So,” he says after a few minutes of surprisingly companionable silence. “I know Emma is pre-Law. Are you pre-Law too?” he asks, looking at you with a friendly, curious smile. 

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, tight-lipped. You hate this conversation–the college-age version of ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Everyone asks the question with good intent, but it always leaves you in an anxiety spiral, an existential crisis, because no matter how many times you’re asked, you have absofuckinglutely no idea. 

“What kind of law do you want to go into?” This question is addressed more to Emma, who immediately launches into an explanation of Environmental Law and the impact of climate change on public health. Marcus nods eagerly, giving Emma his full attention as she talks, watching her with a small smile. 

“What about you?” he asks when she’s done, turning to you.

You gulp. 

“I don’t—I don’t really know. Not yet, anyways.” You brace yourself for the judgmental eyebrow raise, the well-meaning advice.

“That’s okay,” Marcus says, smiling. “No one says you have to have it figured out at… how old are you?”

“T-Twenty,” you mumble, feeling more naive and inexperienced than you ever have before.

“Nah,” Marcus says, shaking his head playfully. “No one has it figured out at twenty. And the people who think they do? They change.”

His eyes go far away for a split-second, and you wonder what he must have been like at twenty. Did he already have Emma at that point? Did he just find out that his girlfriend was pregnant? Was he panicking, trying to figure out how to make things work? You wonder what it was that he had wanted to do, and what he had sacrificed for Emma and her mom. You wonder if he had wanted the divorce, or if she had been the one to suggest it.

“Anyway,” Marcus says, casually waving a slice of pepperoni as he talks, “I mostly work with criminal lawyers. If that’s something you’re interested in, I could arrange a chat with someone this week.”

“Oh,” you say, too stunned to say anything else. “Yeah, maybe.”

Marcus shrugs good-naturedly. “Think about it,” he says, giving you another crooked grin. His eyes crinkle around the edges when he smiles, and it makes your stomach do somersaults. 

“Yeah,” you say again, a little breathlessly. Your next bite of pizza misses your mouth entirely, and you manage to stab yourself in the cheek with your slice, transferring a glob of tomato sauce onto your face in the process.

Emma laughs, and Marcus’s eyes glitter with amusement as you frantically reach for a napkin. 

“So you do, um… FBI stuff?” you ask him clumsily, trying to break the silence.

“Yep. FBI Stuff. Says it on my badge and everything.”

“Why do you have a bunch of art books?”

“I lead an international task force dealing with art crimes,” he answers patiently. 

“What constitutes an art crime?” Emma asks, her mouth full.

“Theft,” Marcus lists, “forgeries, black market sales, dealing in antiquities, looting of archaeological sites…”

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, a dopey smile on your face. Emma shoots you a funny look.

“So it’s like, nerdy FBI stuff,” she says.

“The nerdiest,” Marcus agrees, smiling.

“Do you still have a gun and stuff?”

“I do,” Marcus says carefully, frowning slightly. “It’s in the safe for the week, though, while you’re here.”

Your stomach flip-flops at the mental image of Emma’s dad holding a gun, those warm brown eyes dark with focus as he stares down… an art thief. Or something. 

“Enough about your old man,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “What are you two looking to do tomorrow on your first day in DC?”

“Think we’ll hit the museums,” Emma says. “Get them out of the way first. We want to see the Library of Congress, obviously. Plus walking around to all the monuments and stuff. Oh, and the zoo!”

“Do you want my advice?” Marcus asks, and you both nod. “It’s supposed to be unseasonably warm tomorrow, and sunny. I’d do the monument tour or the zoo tomorrow if I were you. Save the indoor stuff for the end of the week, because it’s supposed to rain.”

“Monuments it is!” Emma exclaims. “Hey, can I… can I use your shower? I feel kinda gross from the travel day.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus hops up, leading Emma over to the guest bathroom. You listen as he points out a stack of towels intended for the two of you during your stay, the extra shampoo he’d bought, the spare toothbrushes just in case… Eventually he returns, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking hesitant again.

“Thank you,” you say again. “You went through a lot of trouble, and–”

“It’s no trouble,” Marcus says quickly. “No trouble at all. I–I have to admit I was surprised when Em–when she called, but I’m–I’m more than happy to host you two for the week. It’s no trouble at all,” he repeats.

“Okay,” you say dumbly. You’re staring again, unable to help the way your eyes are drawn to the way his arms fill out the shirt he's wearing when his hands are in his pockets like that. 

"You alright?" 

Your eyes flit up to his at the question. He's looking back at you, his head cocked to the side as he watches you. And suddenly, you can just tell–you can tell that he knows how flustered you are in front of him. 

You nod rapidly up and down in response, not trusting yourself to answer.  

"Good. Had enough pizza?"

"Mmhmm."

"Anything else to drink?" he asks. 

"Got any beer?" you ask with a quirk of your eyebrow.

"You told me you were twenty," Marcus reminds you. 

"Oh."

"And I work for law enforcement," he says gravely. 

Oh. 

"Oh, f-fuck, I um… I was kidding. Holy shit. I'm sorry. Seriously, I'm not a-a bad… student, or anything. I swear, I–"

As you continue to frantically backtrack, you realize that Marcus’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. 

"Oh, you're funny. Real funny. Ha. Ha."

"Next you'll be saying I should quit my day job," he says, his eyes sparkling. 

"I'm not sure what kind of art… crime… solver… you are, but I have to believe you're a better agent than you are a comedian," you deadpan. 

"You can come to my stand-up show on Tuesday and see for yourself."

Your jaw drops before you realize Marcus's lips are quivering with the effort of keeping a straight face. 

"You're on fire, tonight," you say, rolling your eyes. 

"You'll have to forgive me," he says, a gentle, more wistful smile gracing his lips. "I don't have company often, and it's been even longer since I've seen–" his eyes flick to the bathroom door, and he looks troubled for a moment. 

"Strictly off the record, if you do want a beer, I happen to have some," he says, changing the subject and smiling back at you again. 

"Nah, I'll save that favor for later in the week," you tell him.

"Noted," Marcus replies. He's looking at you again, still. He seems to be one of those people who gives all of his focus to someone when they speak, and the attention is starting to overwhelm you. 

"Hey!" Emma calls from the guest bedroom. "I wanna get started early tomorrow. Those monuments aren't gonna monument themselves."

You laugh and roll your eyes. "That's my cue," you say with a little smile. "Gonna grab a shower myself and call it a night."

"If you need anything, I'm a room away," Marcus says, but it only serves to remind you that this man will be sleeping in the next room.

"Got it," you say, nodding thickly. "Um, good night."

"Good night," he answers softly. 

When you reach the bathroom door, you turn around again–you can't help yourself. 

He's still looking at you. 

"Get up!

"Get up!"

"GET–"

"Okay!" you whine, throwing an extra pillow in the general direction of Emma's voice. "Fuck. I'm up."

You throw on a pair of jeans and a faded tee, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stumble out of the guest room and into the kitchen, where Marcus hands you a cup of coffee, which you accept with a grunt.

"Emma warned me that you weren't a morning person," he says. 

"God, it's both of you, isn't it?" you grumble. "Morning people."

"I guess we turned out alike after all," Marcus says with a soft smile, watching as you take a grateful sip from the mug. "What's the first stop on the list?"

"I dunno, she's got it all planned out," you murmur. "Of like, seeing the farthest place first and working our way back."

"Sounds like a plan," Marcus says. "You two have fun."

"What are you doing today?" Emma interjects, coming into the kitchen, grabbing a bagel off of the counter, and stuffing it into her mouth. 

"Well, it's Sunday, so… grocery shopping," Marcus says. "Any special requests?"

"Filet mignon," Emma says. 

"You got it. Want some lobster tails as well?"

"Mmhmm."

"I was thinking more along the lines of spaghetti and meatballs. Anything else you ladies would like?"

Emma shuffles her feet, and you frown slightly. You've never known her not to immediately say what's on her mind–and clearly, something is. 

"What is it, Emmie?" Marcus asks softly.

"Do you remember that one time that we came to your family's for Christmas–I think I was maybe twelve?–and you made…"

"...Tamales?" Marcus asks, his eyebrows shooting upward. 

"Yeah," Emma answers, her voice smaller than you've ever heard it. "I still remember those. They were really good."

"Jesus, I haven't made those in…" he shakes his head. "I don't even know. But uh, sure. We can do that. Tamale night. It's a deal."

"Thanks," Emma says, smiling. "And… really? 'Emmie?' Dad, I'm not seven anymore."

"My mistake," Marcus says with a playful wink in your direction–which might make your heart stop. "You girls stay safe. Text if you need anything."

Marcus was right–the weather is beautiful today. It’s perfect for walking endlessly from monument to monument, which you do all morning. You try to stay focused–thoughtfully reading the names on the Vietnam War Memorial and not thinking about Emma’s dad, in the plain white t-shirt he had been wearing this morning, in the produce section picking out apples. Even worse, you try not to imagine the sight of him cooking tonight.

He’s becoming a bit of an obsession for you, you can admit it. You want to know everything about him–what his job is like, what he does on the weekends, what he likes to read, what he did in the past to alienate the mother of his child enough that he’s barely seen his daughter–who he very clearly cares deeply for…

As you walk around the Washington Monument, you can’t stand it any longer. 

“Sooooo. It seems like things are going well between you and your dad,” you say conversationally.

“How do you mean?” 

“Less awkward, I guess.”

“It’s not that we don’t get along,” Emma says with a shrug. “We always used to. Like I said, I always thought he was nice. My mom…” 

“She didn’t like him?”

“She didn’t want to be around him. I don’t know why. They tried to protect me from the messy parts of divorce, but part of that means that I have no idea what their history is. She never talked about it. Neither did he.”

“Huh.” You stare in silence at the large white obelisk. “I wonder what happened.”

“I thought about asking my mom,” Emma says. “Lots of times, but I never got up the courage.”

“You should ask him,” you say quietly. “I get the feeling he needs to tell the story.”

Emma gives you a funny look. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

You shrug. “I’m weird.”

“Fair.”

The two of you walk until it feels as though your feet are going to fall off. 

“My feet are going to fall off,” you announce. “Surely there are no more monuments in the entirety of Washington, DC.”

“We’ve still got the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.”

“Uggghhhh, how important can he be? He’s unknown.”

“This was your idea,” Emma points out. “Go to DC for spring break! Stay with my best friend’s estranged dad! Walk around and see all the monuments and shit!”

“Too many steps,” you groan. “They should all be concentrated in one square mile of land.”

“One more,” Emma promises. “And then spaghetti.”

“And laying on the couch watching TV,” you counter.

“And laying on the couch watching TV,” Emma agrees. “...And tomorrow we go to the zoo.”

“No!”

Marcus chuckles as you stumble into his condo just after six. You immediately collapse onto the couch with an exaggerated groan.

“I’m staying right here for the rest of the week,” you announce.

“It’s been one day,” Marcus points out. 

“My phone’s step counter measures over thirty thousand steps,” you mumble. “I’m done.”

“That’s a lot,” Marcus concedes. “Hopefully that means the two of you are hungry this evening.”

“Fucking starving,” Emma agrees, crashing onto the couch herself and nearly colliding with you as she does so. 

“Well, since everyone is so tired,” Marcus says, the playfulness evident in his voice, “I’ll make spaghetti and meatballs tonight. Tamales are a group effort, so you two better be ready to work for your food.”

“I shall endeavor to do so,” Emma remarks with an exaggerated accent, causing you to laugh giddily. 

While Emma’s eyes are closed, you take advantage, watching Marcus–still with that same fitted white shirt–in the kitchen, boiling water, heating the sauce, and adding the meatballs. He must sense your gaze, because he turns, a characteristic crooked smile on his lips as he acknowledges you. 

“I know they’re frozen,” he admits, speaking of the meatballs, “but they always taste the same to me anyway.”

“I can’t wait,” you say, truthfully. “It’s been a long day.”

As if to demonstrate the fact, a loud snore emanates from the body next to you, making you grin.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Marcus says softly. “I don’t often have the opportunity to cook for… more than one.”

“No girlfriend?” you ask conversationally. 

Marcus laughs. “I’m… in between things, I suppose.”

“In between,” you parrot with a laugh. “How long have you been ‘in between?’”

He huffs. “Too long,” he murmurs. 

“How come?” you ask quietly.

Marcus frowns, thinking. “I dunno. No one recently has been… exactly what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?” you ask breathlessly.

“Spaghetti,” Emma mumbles from the couch.

“Spaghetti,” Marcus repeats, giving me a slightly melancholy smile. “Exactly. Come and get it, you two.”

Emma stirs, stumbling into the kitchen where two giant bowls of spaghetti and meatballs are awaiting the two of you.

“Holy shit,” she remarks. “Thanks for this.”

“Of course,” Marcus says. “I would never agree for you to stay and then not…” he trails off, unsure of himself.

You’re starting to realize that the bulk of Marcus’s most emotional statements go unsaid. I would ever agree for you to stay and then not take care of you, is what he hadn’t said. 

“Still doing the zoo tomorrow?” he asks, changing the subject, as always.

“Yup,” Emma answers.

He huffs, smiling wistfully. “Been ages since I’ve been to a zoo.”

“D’you wanna go?” you ask, before you can determine that it’s a bad idea.

Marcus looks at you, indecisive for a few seconds before he seemingly comes to his senses. “Nah,” he says, grinning. “You two have fun.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asks. “Apparently there’s a new panda baby.”

“That’s a hard bargain,” he admits.

“You should come with,” Emma decides. “It could be fun.”

“All right,” Marcus agrees hesitantly.

“It’s Monday,” you point out. “Don’t you have to work?”

“I’ll call off,” he answers quickly. “Not everyday one’s daughter is in town for an impromptu zoo trip.”

“Look at the little lad,” Emma gushes. 

“The what?” Marcus asks. 

The three of you are staring at the panda enclosure, watching the newest addition to the zoo cause chaos.

“The chonky boi,” you agree.

“I have no idea what you two are saying,” Marcus admits. 

“The baby panda is cute,” Emma offers. 

“That I can agree on,” he decides.

The three of you, you’ve decided, make a good team. You try not to think about how your heart burns whenever Marcus looks at you, how your stomach does flips whenever he laughs. If you’re going to be a good friend to Emma–and you are–you’re going to have to put this silly crush aside and accept the fact that he’s a package deal with your best friend. 

That doesn’t stop the way the man looks at you, though. 

You think you’re imagining it, at first. After all, Marcus seems to be the type of person who focuses completely on whatever anyone has to say. The more you’re with him, though, it’s hard to deny that he seems to look at you just a tiny bit longer.

You start to notice it all day–when you’re looking at the exhibits, Marcus is looking at you. 

He’s watching your reaction to them–smiling when you smile, laughing when you laugh. You can’t parse out the meaning behind his actions–does it mean something? If so, what? What does it mean? 

You can’t admit the truth to yourself until you’re in the insect house. Emma is giddy with interest, and you… are trying. 

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks softly in your ear–and you try not to shiver.

“Great,” you squeak. “Just don’t love the bird-eating spider.”

“I don’t like them either,” he confesses with a smile. “Do you need to leave?”

“Idunno,” you mumble, slurring the words together. 

“Emmie,” Marcus announces, “we’re going to take a little break, okay?”

“Mmm.” 

You and Marcus escape into the bright sunshine, and you let out an awkward laugh. “I can’t believe they have some of them loose in there–without glass or anything!”

“I’m not going back in that building,” Marcus agrees, laughing with you. “The giant orb weaver was the last straw.”

“That was awful,” you say, nodding.

“Come to think of it, I might be more of a baby panda guy, myself.”

“I’ll take the snakes over this,” you agree.

You sit down on a nearby bench, still giggling together as you wait for Emma.

“Is it weird if I say I’m glad you came?” you ask quietly.

“I’m glad I came, too,” Marcus says beside you.

“I think–” you begin, but Emma emerges from the insect house, grinning ear to ear.

“You think… what?” Marcus asks, but you shake your head and shrug.

“I dunno,” you mumble. “I just… think.”

“Hey, wimps,” Emma shouts. “They let me touch the tarantula.”

Marcus takes the two of you out to dinner at a casual burger spot near his place. While the tension between him and Emma has lessened significantly since the first day, it feels as though it’s been replaced by a thick cloud of tension between the two of you. 

There’s something about the man that speaks to you, something within him that seems to vibrate on the same frequency as something within you. Twin souls, you’d say, if you were in a mind to be romantic, except… it can’t be. He must be nearly forty–and almost twice your age. There’s nothing you have that he would want–nothing you could offer a man who has his entire life together while yours has barely started.

Still, the way Marcus laughs at your jokes and gives you knowing glances–as if the two of you are sharing some type of inside joke that you’ve had for years–keeps you flustered and breathless throughout most of the evening.

The glass of wine he offers when you arrive home doesn’t help, either. You watch the red liquid swirl in your glass and wonder how it would taste from his lips, instead. And, when you’ve reached the bottom of your glass, the fuzzy-headed feeling you get from the alcohol combined with the way your stomach swoops in its place every time Marcus’s eyes meet yours has you feeling dizzy and enraptured in equal parts. 

When he locks eyes with you over the rim of his own glass as he drains the last sip, you freeze, afraid that you’d been caught out–that he can read every dumbstruck expression on your face and knows exactly what he does to you.

But all he does is shoot you a little smile, announce that he’s going to bed– “Back to work for me, tomorrow”–and leaves you in the living room alone with Emma, trying not to look as though you’re checking out her dad’s butt as he leaves the room. 

The next day, you and Emma spend most of the day at the Library of Congress while Marcus is at work. As a result, neither of you are too tired to help when Marcus suggests making the tamales tonight. 

“I’m going to preface this by saying I’m not very good at making these,” he says with a laugh as he struggles with the dough. “My grandma only made these on special occasions, and I’ve done it myself approximately two times without her.”

“Well, the good news is that I’ve got no frame of reference,” you tell him. “So as long as they’re edible, they’ll be the best tamales I’ve ever had.”

Marcus chuckles and ducks his head; you can see the pink tinge on the tips of his ears as he continues to stir the mixture.

“Emmie, do you want to do the dough or the filling?” he asks. 

“Filling.”

“That leaves you with the fun part,” Marcus says to you with a playful wink. “You get to spread the dough out on the corn husks like this–” he frowns as a glob of dough gets stuck to the spatula. “I told you I’m not very good at this. But you get the idea.”

You really don’t; cooking has never been your strong suit. You do your best to spread the dough out, but after just a couple of repetitions, your fingers, your shirt, and the counter around you are sticky with dough. 

“This is not going very well,” you mumble. 

Marcus looks up from the tamale he’s currently folding and laughs joyfully. “That’s part of the process.”

“I really don’t feel like it is,” you shoot back. “It’s sticking to everything but the corn husks.”

“Here,” Marcus chuckles. And suddenly, he’s right behind you, his chest nearly touching your back as he reaches around you to gently guide your hands himself. “Like this.”

You can’t possibly focus on your task, not when you have to remind your body to keep breathing while Marcus’s hands are on you. Your eyes stare unseeingly down at the corn husk until he releases you. 

“Better?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” you hum, abnormally high-pitched.

“You’ve got some on your cheek,” he remarks with a soft smile. His thumb gently swipes across it, catching the stray dough and wiping it on a towel. 

In the end, the tamales are hideous, but they taste incredible. They might be the best meal you’ve ever had–or maybe it’s just the way Marcus had smiled proudly at you when your technique improved after his intervention.

After dinner, the three of you sit on the small couch and watch a movie.

“It’s in black and white,” Emma remarks, wrinkling her nose.

“Double Indemnity? It’s a classic!” Marcus protests.

“Old movies are always so boring,” Emma says. 

“It’s not boring,” he pouts. “The unhappy wife of a wealthy oil baron starts a dangerous, illicit love affair with an insurance salesman, and they hatch a plot to murder her husband and collect the insurance money.”

“That’s wild,” you laugh. “How have you seen this before?”

“I’ve always been told I’m an old soul.”

“Are you sure you’re not just old?” Emma teases.

“Hush. Watch the movie.”

The film is engaging, but all of the walking around of the past few days starts to catch up with you about halfway through. Before you know it, your eyes are drooping, and your head tips back on the couch cushion as you start to doze off. When you wake, the credits are rolling, and you’re no longer upright on the back of the couch.

You’re drooling on Marcus’s shoulder.

You startle, sitting back up with a frantic gasp and wiping your mouth in horror.

“Shh,” Marcus whispers, placing a calming hand on your forearm. “Emma fell asleep, too.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you babble, taking in the little wet spot on his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures softly. “You’re tired. You needed the sleep.”

“Still,” you say. “I didn’t mean to…” you trail off awkwardly. 

“It’s okay,” Marcus repeats, even quieter still. His hand still rests on your forearm, his thumb subtly moving back and forth across your skin. 

Neither of you speak for what seems like an eternity, until finally, he breaks the spell.

“Should go to bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll wake up Emma. Go get some rest.”

“Marcus,” you whisper shakily.

“Go,” he whispers back. 

He squeezes your arm once, then releases you, and you reluctantly get up from the couch and cross to the guest bedroom door. You turn again, watching as Marcus gently smooths Emma’s hair back from her forehead as he rouses her from the couch. There’s so much tenderness in his eyes, and you wonder how much different he might be if Emma had been a more constant presence in his life. He seems so lonely–does he have friends outside of work, you wonder? Does he ever date? 

Emma sits up blearily and pads across the living room, walking past you and collapsing on the bed. You take one last look at Marcus, and follow her. 

The next morning, you feel as though you could cut the tension between you and Marcus with a knife. There’s something there–and you both know it. He seems to be doing his best to ignore it, avoiding eye contact with you, and busying himself with pouring a thermos of coffee and messing with his tie absentmindedly as he gets ready to leave for work. 

“Where are you off to today?” he comments lightly.

“Smithsonian,” Emma answers. 

“Sounds fun. I’ve got a deposition this afternoon that’s probably going to run late, so go ahead and grab something for dinner while you’re out. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

The only time Marcus’s eyes fall on you is in the moment just before he steps through the front door. He pauses, hand on the doorknob, and glances back in your direction, dark eyes watching you for a moment before he nods subtly and leaves.

It’s funny how just a simple, seconds-long moment of eye contact with this man can turn your insides to jelly. Your breath stutters as the door clicks shut, and you try to gather yourself again.

“What’s first?” Emma asks. “Natural History or Air and Space?”

You put Marcus out of your mind for most of the day, although he’s never far away; you’re able to call up the feel of his hand on your forearm at any given moment. You can imagine the burn of his eyes even as you walk through exhibit after exhibit.

True to his word, he’s not home for dinner. You and Emma grab sandwiches from a shop around the corner and eat them in the living room in front of the TV. It’s nearly seven when Marcus finally gets home, opening the door and greeting the two of you with a tired smile and a heavy sigh.

“How did it go?” Emma asks.

“Shit,” he answers, shooting her a crooked grin. “But I’ve got leftover tamales to look forward to, so the day is looking up.”

You watch another movie–Emma’s choice this time, and something a bit more current. You don’t fall asleep this time; you can’t, not with the way your body feels on high alert tonight. Marcus is sitting beside you again, as he was the night before, and all you can think about is how much you want to sink into his arms again–and this time, intentionally. You want to lay on his chest and have him wrap his arms around you; you want him to slowly turn and press you down on the cushions, to feel the weight of him on top of you, the light scrape of his beard on your neck, his breath in your ear.

A wave of arousal washes over you, heating your skin and sending a little trickle of damp into your underwear. You wonder if Marcus can feel it–feel the elevated warmth of your skin from where he’s sitting. You wonder if he can tell how much he affects you. 

When the movie ends, you can barely meet his eyes as you bid him goodnight, following Emma to your room. You can’t turn around to see if he’s watching you; you can’t stand another glance at that deep, burning gaze of his. 

Sleep evades you. You��re too hot, so you kick off the covers. Then you’re too cold, so you cover up again. You flip over the pillow, turn from your back to your stomach, and back again. The fantasy plays once more in your head: Marcus’s hand cradling the back of your neck as he kisses a path down your neck and to your chest. You want to feel the weight of him between your thighs, feel him pressing against your core. You’re dripping for him, and he doesn’t even know it. 

No one has ever done this to you, but he has. And he hasn’t even touched you. 

You wonder if he’d be bothered by the fact that you aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing in that department. You wonder if he’d be put off by your inexperience, or if he’d be happy to guide you in the act of pleasure. 

You’ve had a couple of fumbling encounters, rushed, frenzied moments as a teenager with boys who haphazardly stuffed a finger or two into you, but it didn’t feel like anything to you. Not really. No one has ever made you cum–just you, in the safety of your own bed at night, your fingers seeking relief that no one else has been able to provide.

Could he give it to you?

Your past experiences have been with boys; and Marcus is a man. 

Your legs shift, rubbing your thighs against each other as you try to find a more comfortable position.

You can’t find one.

Eventually, you give up–getting out of bed with a sigh. Maybe if you grab a drink of water and sit on the couch for a while, sleep will win out in the end. You pad into the kitchen, filling a cup in the sink and taking a few long sips. The cool water is a relief, so you run your hand underneath the water next and scrub it over your face. Finally sated, you set the cup down by the sink and turn.

To see Marcus sitting on the couch, dimly lit by the glow of his laptop screen.

You nearly double over with shock, the unexpected sight causing a spike of adrenaline to course through your body.

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “Couldn’t sleep, so I was… catching up on work.”

The mirror image of a popular news site reflects through the glass picture frame behind the couch, exposing the tiny lie.

“Yeah, me neither,” you admit quietly. “Thought I’d sit out here for a while and see if that helps, but… sorry, I’ll leave you to it.” You make to turn back, to retreat to the room again, but Marcus speaks softly behind you.

“Come sit,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

Breath caught somewhere in your throat, you hesitantly sink down on the couch beside him. Marcus closes his laptop and sets it down on the coffee table, and the silence stretches out between you. 

“So, are you liking DC so far?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer eagerly. “I’m having a great time. I’ll… I’ll be sad to leave,” you admit. “Is that weird?”

“It’s weird if you’re talking about missing the Washington Monument,” Marcus teases. “Or the traffic.”

“I’m talking about the metro, obviously,” you joke. “The rest of the country could stand for some public transit options.”

“I’m not sure they should be taking their cues from DC,” he chuckles. 

“Pssh, I like it.”

“The novelty wears off, believe me.”

You lapse into silence again. You’re sitting close enough to Marcus that you can feel the warmth from his skin, even though you aren’t touching. You want to sink into him, to have him envelop you, consume you.

You feel yourself unconsciously shifting closer to him. 

Is it just your imagination, or did Marcus subtly lean closer to you?

The pull is inevitable; your eyes flick up to his, and you can almost feel the point of no return pass the two of you by. 

You lick your lips, and his breath catches in his throat.

“I wasn’t talking about the metro,” you say breathlessly. 

“I know.”

And suddenly, his lips are on yours. 

It’s not fast, not rushed or frantic; he doesn’t surge forward to take you. It’s simply that the two of you are close enough that at one moment, Marcus Pike is not kissing you, and then the next moment, he is. 

As with everything this man does, the kiss is soft and tender. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and he gently tits his head as his lips move against yours. His mouth opens ever so slightly, and you feel a wave of pure want rush through you at the light flick of his tongue against your lower lip.

You make a ragged sound in your chest as your lips part for him, and your tongues slide against each other for far too short of a time before Marcus pulls back, suddenly, his eyes full of worry.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs. “Shit, we… we shouldn’t.”

This time, you kiss him back. The neck of his soft t-shirt crumples in your fist as you pull him closer, opening your mouth to him, and his protests die at the feel of your lips on his. Instead, it seems to light a fire within him; one hand curls around the back of your neck and the other grips your hip and you gasp softly into his mouth at the feel of his hands on your body. 

Marcus breaks the kiss again, but instead of pulling back to give you more reasons why you can’t, this time he kisses a path across your cheek and down your neck. You’ve imagined the way his light beard would feel against your skin so many times over the last couple of days, but nothing compares to the reality of having him gently scrape his teeth against your neck as you arch your back to him. 

“Fuck,” Marcus whispers. “So sweet, honey.”

You whimper at the term of endearment as Marcus gently starts to shift positions, turning and guiding you down onto the couch, just as you’d imagined. 

Now that you’re horizontal, the kisses that started out tender and sweet start to grow more and more lascivious. You can feel the weight of him between your legs and his hot length pressing against you, his hips rocking slightly as he lazily explores you with his hands and his mouth. 

One hand creeps up your inner thigh and slips under your thin sleep shorts and underwear, gently grazing your folds and feeling the obscene amount of slick that’s already gathered there. 

“Shit,” Marcus hisses softly, reverently. “You’re so wet. How are you so wet?”

“You,” you answer earnestly, staring up at him with wide eyes. 

He laughs breathlessly in response, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your nipples peeking through the threadbare material of your tank top. His finger explores deeper, slipping inside your tight channel and immediately finding… something… that makes you gasp raggedly. 

“So responsive,” he murmurs playfully. “I’ve barely touched you.” He starts to slowly pump his finger in and out, his thumb pressing on your clit as he rubs against that little spot inside of you every time, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and cling to him as this one little movement threatens to take you apart. 

“Honey,” he whispers disbelievingly as he feels you start to tighten around him. “Already?”

“I–” 

Whatever you had been about to say dies on your lips as you suddenly fall over the edge, shaking as the pleasure overtakes you. Marcus soothes you through it, whispering in your ear as you come down from your high.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”

Marcus pulls back and gives you a funny look. “What’s going on?” he asks, frowning slightly.

“Heh–you’re going to laugh,” you say, giving him an awkward grimace. 

He raises his eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’ve–kind of never done this before,” you admit, pressing your lips together sheepishly. 

“Oh shit,” Marcus breathes, sitting up fully as his eyes frantically sweep over you. “Oh, honey–no. I can’t–we can’t do this.”

“Why?” you ask, wincing internally at how whiny it comes out.

“It can’t–it shouldn’t be me,” he says softly. “That’s more than I deserve to take.”

“You’re not taking anything,” you protest. “I–I want it to be you.”

Marcus shakes his head again, but you can see the cracks in his resolve, the way his eyes are searching you, devouring you with his gaze.

“I don’t want it to be some boy at a frat party back home,” you tell him. “I want you. I want it to feel good. Please?”

Marcus’s expression is inscrutable as his eyes rake over your form, disheveled and sated, underneath him. Your heart sinks when he stands up, shame sinking down into the pit of your stomach, but then he extends his hand to you, and you look up at him, questioning. 

“I’m not going to let your first time be a quick fuck on my couch,” he says quietly and resolute. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to bed.”

Wordlessly, you accept his hand and allow him to pull you to your feet. You wobble slightly, still shaky from the orgasm, and Marcus draws you into his side, steadying you. He guides you forward, keeping you close as the two of you walk to his bedroom. 

Despite the fact that you were more than ready to let this man take you right there on the couch, the change in venue has your heart hammering in your chest. Now, it feels real. It feels intentional. 

“C’mere, beautiful,” Marcus murmurs when he feels your steps falter. His hand slides up your arm and across your shoulder until it curls gently around your neck, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface of your skin. He presses a couple of soft, chaste kisses across your opposite shoulder, and your lips part of their own accord. 

“I need you to tell me if you don’t want to do this,” he says softly in your ear.

“I want–”

“I know, I know,” Marcus interrupts. “I want you to tell me if that changes.”

He gently guides you onto his bed, one hand on the small of your back to keep you from going too fast. 

“I wanna know what you like,” he murmurs as he hovers over you again, his hand coming up underneath the thin material of your top. “I wanna know what you don’t like.” 

“I–I don’t really know–”

“I know,” Marcus grins wolfishly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s the idea.”

He starts to push the material of your shirt up, up, up, until your nipples are pebbling in the cool air of his bedroom. He gently pulls it over your head and casts it aside, looking down at you with undisguised hunger. He trails the backs of his fingers down the side of one breast and underneath. “I get to find out what you like,” he says. He circles one areola with the tip of his finger, making you shiver. “And I get to be the first to do it.”

He gently drags the pad of his finger across the little bud of your nipple, and you gasp for him as if you’d hit a live wire. 

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you liked that,” he teases. 

“Marcus,” you whine. 

“Shh,” he whispers again, just before his mouth engulfs your nipple. Your hand darts out unconsciously, tangling in the hair on the back of Marcus’s neck as you squirm under his hot tongue. You can’t tell whether you want to pull away or push toward him, but in reality all you do is whine and take what he gives you. He switches to the other one; lathing and flicking his tongue and pressing down until you whimper.

“So… fucking… responsive,” Marcus murmurs in between kisses as he starts to mouth his way down your belly to the band of your sleep shorts. His fingers dip underneath, poised to pull them down over your hips, but he waits–eyes flicking up to yours to gauge your reaction. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks quietly.

“I-If you want,” you laugh shakily. 

“If I want?” he parrots disbelievingly. “You’re saying that like it’s not a given–like I haven’t been thinking of burying my tongue in that sweet little pussy all night. If I want,” he chuckles to himself again, slowly dragging your shorts and underwear down your legs. “I need to taste you. I need to feel you fall apart on my tongue. The first one was kind of a surprise, and all I want is to feel you shaking again.”

You’re bare before him, but you don’t have any time to be self-conscious, because Marcus is laying back down on the bed, his face inches away from your pussy. He gently guides your legs over his shoulders before lowering his mouth to you. 

You aren’t sure who groans louder at the first touch of his tongue through your folds. 

Marcus makes a pained noise in his throat before murmuring, “So sweet, honey–fuck, you’re so sweet.”

His tongue is delicate, but precise; he flicks it back and forth against your clit, then dips down to lap at your entrance until you’re trembling for him. He’s tireless and patient, cataloging every whimper and moan he pulls from you as the pleasure slowly builds inside of you. In no time at all, you’re dangling on the precipice, your hips locking into place as you start to reach the point of no return. 

“I–I–” you stammer, trying to warn him.

Marcus hums enthusiastically in agreement, concentrating his efforts on your clit until you fall apart with a gasp.

He groans again, licking you through each little aftershock of pleasure until you’re boneless. 

“You squeeze me so hard,” he croons. “Can you feel that? You’re so tight around my tongue.”

“Shit…” you murmur. You’re too fucked-out to say anything else. 

“Gonna have to open you up a bit with my fingers,” he says softly. “So I don’t hurt you.”

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes. He’s still clothed–wearing sweatpants and a shirt, while you’re completely naked, and you frown slightly at the disparity.

“Everything okay?” Marcus asks, seeing your expression. 

“Can–Can I see you? You’re so… clothed,” you say with a little pout. 

He laughs, smiling widely so that the corners of his eyes crinkle, and your heart soars. 

“Of course,” he agrees, stripping off his shirt. “Of course.”

You raise up on one elbow, gazing up at Marcus’s broad chest, the light smattering of hair, and the soft swell of his belly. You can’t help but reach up and touch him, pressing your palm to his sternum and trailing down, tracing the little path of hair until it disappears under the band of his sweatpants. Your fingers curl underneath the band, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“These, too?” he asks with a teasing chuckle, smiling wider when you nod eagerly. 

His cock bobs free as he pushes his pants down his hips, and your eyes widen at the sight of him, thick and hard and heavy with want. Curiously, you wrap your hand around him, and you’re rewarded with a little ‘hnnngg’ of pleasure and surprise as you touch him. 

You gently trace the little ridges on his shaft, traveling up to the flushed, purple head, where the skin is even softer, and back down again.

“F-Fuck,” Marcus muttters. “Can’t do that too much, honey, or I’m gonna lose it before we even get started.”

“I like it,” you say with a little giggle. “I never realized they were so… soft.”

Marcus makes a broken, choked sound. “Jesus. You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

He falls onto one elbow, giving you a messy, passionate kiss before sucking his fingers into his mouth and gently sinking one finger into you again. His lips stay close to yours, noses almost touching, his eyes watching your face intently as he slowly opens you up. His fingers are so thick, and just like before, he seems to know exactly where to press up inside you to make the pleasure spark inside of you. He adds a second finger, and you whimper–you're already so full. 

"Little bit more," Marcus murmurs. "Doing so well for me–fuck–so tight."

He gently starts to slide a third into you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit to offer some relief.

“Is it greedy if I say I want you to cum for me again?” he asks softly. “I want to feel it again. Can you do that for me?”

You nod dazedly–wanting to do anything, everything this man asks as long as he keeps making you feel like this. 

His fingers press up against your walls again, and you sob loudly into the room.

Marcus immediately muffles the sound with a kiss, swallowing your whimpers and cries in an attempt to keep the sound from carrying across the apartment. 

“Gotta stay quiet for me,” he whispers against your lips. 

“S-Sorry.”

“No, shh, don’t be sorry,” he murmurs. “I wish you could be loud. Wish I could make you scream for me. Just–fuck, honey, you’re right there, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing me–fuck, you get so wet. Give me one more. One more, and I’ll give you my cock. That’s it, that’s–yes–” 

Marcus breaks off on a groan as you clamp down on his fingers. It’s so much, you’re so full, and you buck against his hand, your lower back rising up off of the bed as he pulls it from you. 

You slump back down, breathing heavily, as he carefully withdraws his fingers. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying to get your attention. “Hey, I should have asked this sooner, but–are you on birth control? Do you want me to use a condom?”

“I-I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “If you… you know, if you didn’t want to. That would be–I’d like that.”

“That’s perfect,” he whispers, giving you a tender kiss. “I’d like that, too.” He pauses, and mutters a soft curse under his breath. “I wish I had some lube,” he remarks. “Just to be sure I don’t hurt you.”

You watch as he spits on his cock and takes himself in hand. 

“This will have to do, though,” he says as he slicks it over his cock and crawls over you. “And I’ll just go slow.”

He cups the back of your neck with one hand as he lines himself up with the other. His lips are inches from yours, but he doesn’t lean down to kiss you–no, he seems to want to watch your reaction as the tip of his cock notches at your entrance. 

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers again.

“You could never hurt me,” you say confidently, and you watch as his lips part in surprise. “Marcus–” you add, as you shift your hips impatiently. “–just do it.”

Your eyes widen as you feel him push into you, his girth splitting you open. It can’t be much bigger than three of his thick fingers, but still, it just feels like more. It’s longer, certainly; he keeps pushing in, and even when you’re sure he’s reached the end, there’s still more. 

“Oh wow,” you hear yourself murmuring again and again. “Oh, Marcus.” 

“I know,” he returns, kissing your cheekbone, your forehead, your nose, and then finally, your lips. “I know, honey.”

He starts to rock his hips, slowly undulating them, letting his cock drag back and forth against your walls. It feels incredible–you never imagined how fucking good this would feel–and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s because it’s him. It’s Marcus–a man you’ve admittedly only known for a few days, but you feel as though you know him already–and you trust him completely. 

“Does it hurt at all?” he rumbles softly in your ear.

“No,” you answer emphatically. “It feels–holy shit.”

Marcus laughs breathlessly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can–can we do this again?”

He chuckles. “We’re currently doing this.”

“I already want it again.”

He starts to go a little harder, his thrusts a little deeper. His hand grips your hip for leverage, the other still cradling the back of your neck. He kisses you, a deep, messy, passionate thing, before burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking a gentle mark into your skin.

“Feels so good,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna last, not when you feel like this.”

“Like how?” you ask, smiling widely. 

“So fucking tight,” Marcus groans. “And wet, and hot, and–” he brings his thumb to your clit and starts to rub little circles around it. “I need you to cum again,” he says. “Fuck, you–you feel too good, honey, I’m not gonna last.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you murmur. 

“Please,” he says, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Please, baby, you’ve gotta do this one last thing for me. Let me feel it, let me make you feel good. Let me–let me–”

Your mouth falls open as you feel it wash over you. This is better than anything you’ve ever felt before, any relief you’ve been able to seek with your fingers–the drag of his cock along your walls only serves to prolong your pleasure, making each little aftershock feel like a new wave of pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus groans. “Fuck.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he shoves his hips into you one more time, emptying himself within you with a deep groan. 

The aftermath is quiet. After gently, tenderly cleaning you up with a damp cloth, Marcus collapses on the pillows and pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around you as you settle with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Was this a bad idea?” you ask quietly as you trace little shapes on his chest.

Marcus huffs a laugh. “Probably,” he answers.

“I don’t care,” you say resolutely, causing his hold on you to tighten. “...Do you regret it?” you ask, feeling unsure of yourself again.

“No,” Marcus says immediately. “No. I was drawn to you from the beginning. I’m sorry, I–I should have tried harder to prevent this, but…”

“I felt it, too,” you murmur. “Maybe we weren’t meant to prevent it.”

The two of you bask in the afterglow, reveling in the feel of your bodies pressed together. You can’t help but think of how tender, how loving he is–not just with you, but with Emma.

“Can I ask a personal question?” you ask, breaking the silence.

Marcus shrugs. “Sure.”

“This is probably weird to be thinking about right now, but… why does Emma’s mom not want you around?”

 Marcus sighs, his lips pressing into your forehead–not really a kiss, just a caress of your hairline with his mouth.

“That story doesn’t exactly paint me in the best light.”

“I want to know. I just… don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” he asks.

“You’re… you’re such a good dad–a good man. I don’t understand how her mom wanted nothing to do with you. I just don’t get it.”

Marcus nods, pressing his lips together. “I wasn’t always a good man,” he says quietly. “I tried to do the best I could for the both of them–for Emma and her mom–but I’m afraid I fell very short, in the beginning.”

“What happened?”

“We were in college when we found out she was pregnant,” Marcus says with a sigh. “She was nineteen, I was almost twenty-one. We hadn’t been together long; maybe a couple of months. She was terrified, of course–and so was I, but never told her that. I asked her to marry me because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Did you love her?”

“I cared for her, very much so. And even if we weren’t quite right for each other, knowing–” Marcus swallows thickly, “–knowing our child, my child, was growing inside of her made me feel deeply connected. If you had asked me at twenty-one, I would have sworn up and down that I was in love.”

“But not now?”

Marcus huffs softly. “I know a little better, now.”

“What happened?” you ask, tracing the line of his collarbone with the tip of your finger. “What did you do?”

“Well, the first thing I did was drop out of art school,” he says with a little laugh. “Didn’t think it would pay the bills, especially not with a wife and a baby.”

“You were an artist?” you ask, surprised.

“Wanted to be,” he chuckled. “At least at that time. So instead, I applied for the FBI. Joined the Art Crimes division. And shortly after I completed training… Emma was born.” His eyes are far away, a small smile on his face as he remembers. “And she was perfect. And I remember thinking, all the struggling, all the hardship, all the times Denise and I didn’t get along… it would be worth it, in the end. No matter what happened; because I had her.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “What went wrong?”

“Nothing in particular, at first. We struggled to make ends meet. We were two young parents with no idea what we were doing, and even though I might have known deep down that we weren’t right for each other, I just wanted it to go right. I wanted us to be happy, but in the end we were just too different. We didn’t work–and while I might have been blind to it at the time, Denise wasn’t. When Emma was barely even two, she filed for divorce, and I–” he sighs heavily again. “I went a little off the rails.”

You tilt your head and look up at Marcus. His eyes are stormy, and you can see the remorse etched into the lines of his face. You don’t ask how, you just wait patiently for him to continue.

“I didn’t want to be divorced at twenty-three. This wasn’t–it wasn’t the life I had expected for myself, not what I would have chosen, but because I had Emma, I didn’t want anything else. I always knew I would want a family, and so what if it happened… a little out of order?”

“What did you do?” you whispered.

“I tried to convince her to change her mind. She took Emma and went to live with her parents, and I’d call them every day, asking to talk to her. I wanted to persuade her–I thought that if she could just see that we had plenty of time, we could raise Emma and be good parents and still… still have time for whatever we wanted. That we could still build lives.

“When she never returned my calls, I started stopping by,” he confesses, his voice even quieter. “They’d always tell me she was out, so I started showing up at odd hours, trying to… trying to just catch her one time–I thought if I explained that she could do whatever she wanted, as long as we could just stay together and raise Emma, she’d agree. But the more I tried to contact her, the more she pulled away, and rightly so, honestly. I was badgering her. I tried to justify it at the time, said I was doing it all for Emma, but I, uh… It took me until much later to admit I was actually doing it for me. I was so scared of being a failure, and scared to be alone.

“Anyway, the court didn’t look very kindly on what looked to everyone involved like stalking behavior, and Denise was afforded full custody.”

“M-Marcus,” you murmur, unable to help the water gathering at the corners of your eyes. 

“Broke my heart,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “And I was angry about it for a while, but when it comes down to it, I was just angry with myself. It was my actions that lost me my daughter, and… well, I’ve had twenty years to come to terms with that, now.”

“How did you finally… come to face all of that?” you ask quietly.

“Therapy,” Marcus says with a genuine laugh. “And that is another story for another time.”

“God, what else happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, “just another relationship that I fought way too hard for.” He playfully runs his finger down the bridge of your nose before tilting your chin upward for a soft kiss. “And you,” he murmurs, “need to go back to bed.”

Your emotions still running on high alert after Marcus’s emotional confession of his past, you surge forward and throw your arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I’m okay,” he promises. “It was a long time ago.”

“You should tell Emma,” you say softly. “She never knew why her mom didn’t want you around.”

“Not really something you want to tell your daughter,” he says with a sad smile. “That you basically stalked her mom.”

“She’s grown up. She’s older than her mom was when–”

“Believe me, I know,” Marcus groans. “Don’t remind me; it makes this feel very… wrong.” He gestured between the two of you.

“Just trust me,” you murmur. “She’d want to know.” With herculean effort, you extricate yourself from his arms, grab your clothes, and redress. Feeling unsure in the way the conversation ended, you tell yourself not to turn around again when your hand lands on the doorknob.

“Honey,” Marcus calls out softly from the bed. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you whisper back, and then you’re gone.

“Where are you two off to, today?” Marcus asks conversationally over coffee. He’s made it stronger than usual today, and it makes warmth pool deep in your stomach at the reminder of your very sleepless night last night. You’re grateful for the extra boost of caffeine as well, of course–the morning seemed to come far too early after being up half of the night. Sleep had still been hard to come by when you finally returned to the guest room, after all; the conversation about Marcus’s past was still swirling around in your head, and every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel his hands on you. 

You never knew it could feel like this, never knew how good it could be with someone who really knew what they were doing. Someone so giving, so gentle and yet so ruthless in pursuing your pleasure. Someone brimming with passion, capable of both the softest prase and the most depraved filth in the same sentence.

If you had thought your thirst would be sated after finally getting what you’d fantasized about and more, you were a fool. The flame burns hotter than ever this morning, and the sight of Marcus in a suit with not a hair out of place only makes you think about how he had looked between your legs last night–that devilish smirk as he teased about wanting to taste you.

You wonder if you’ll ever see him that way again, or if last night was a fluke. 

Had he noticed when your fingers had trembled around the coffee cup he handed you? 

He had given you a soft, tender stare when you had first entered the kitchen, but that’s the only evidence you can find so far that Marcus is even half as affected as you feel. You can still feel him this morning, a subtle ache between your legs when you sit down, and you wish you could see some outward sign on him that this actually happened.

“Not really sure,” Emma answers Marcus’s question. “Kind of ran out of stuff to see.”

“Impossible,” Marcus chuckles. “Well, you can hang out here if you want, or if you're really looking for a distraction, you can come to the office with me.”

“The fucking FBI office?” Emma asks. “Are we allowed?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” Marcus shrugs. “Plus, I might be able to set up some time for you to talk to someone in Legal,” he says to you. “Are you still interested in that?”

“Oh wow,” you breathe. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies. “I said I would.”

You nod, smiling up at him beatifically. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “Well, if you’re coming, we’re going to need to leave soon. Are you almost ready?”

“I’m ready,” Emma announces, shouldering her bag.

“Yeah, me too.”

Marcus winks at you, and you try not to let yourself react to it.

“Let’s go, then.”

You had assumed that you’d spend most of your day at the FBI holed up in Marcus’s office, doing nothing. You had imagined that, out of necessity, you’d be barred from attending any meetings or hearing about his department’s day-to-day activities, but when you arrive, his team seems enthusiastic to have you and Emma there. Much to your surprise, they even let the two of you sit in the back of the room while Marcus conducts a briefing. 

You listen, enthralled, as he discusses a recent forgery case that the team is working on. His demeanor, as it is at home, is good-natured and easygoing. He’s easy to smile, and engaging when he talks, and as a result, he utterly commands the room. His style of quiet, unassuming authority has you subtly squirming in your chair. Even though you have no idea what’s being discussed, you can tell simply by listening to his cadence of speech that he’s incredibly knowledgeable, and fucking good at his job. It’s clear he loves the work–and when you think back to the night before and his whispered confession that he had once dreamed of being an artist, you find yourself beaming with happiness that he’s clearly found something he loves to do. 

“People change.”

You suddenly recall his words the very first night you were there–his assurance that it didn’t matter that you had no idea what you wanted to do at your age, because there’s no promise that you’ll still want the same things in ten years. After last night, you realize that he was talking about himself in that moment.

You hope he’s happy and fulfilled.

He deserves it.

You watch him wrap up the meeting–delegating work to each member of the team and asking for updates–and every so often, as his eyes sweep around the room, they always seem to land on you.

As he promised, Marcus introduces you to Kimberley Alexander, the lawyer that his department works with most of the time. You’re nervous at first–you aren’t sure what you’re going to talk about, but you end up staying in her office through lunch, spending almost an hour and a half longer than you had intended, talking about potential jobs with the FBI.

Not because you suddenly have the desire to return to Washington, DC as soon as you can, nope. It does interest you–quite a bit, actually–but you can’t pretend that you aren’t excited at the prospect of living in the same city as Marcus. Would he want to see you again? Is he really interested in you, or is it just the forced proximity–because you’re convenient and available? If you had your own life here, would he be interested in a place in it?

When you find Emma and her dad again, they’ve clearly just come back from lunch. Emma thrusts a container into your hands, which you discover, with an exaggerated moan of satisfaction, is pad Thai.

“Must have been a good talk,” Marcus remarks. 

“Yeah, you were there for two hours,” Emma adds.

“It was good,” you nod. “Talked about, y’know, internships and stuff.”

“You wanna live here?” Emma asks, looking surprised and curious.

You try to shrug noncommittally. “Sure,” you say lightly. “It’s as good a place as any, and it would be kind of fun to work for the FBI, right?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you an unbiased answer to that,” Marcus says with a wry smile, “but I think you’d be a great fit.”

Your heart swells at his words. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he says earnestly. “And I hate to do this, but I’ve gotta run to do a witness interview, and you guys have to stay behind this time.”

You watch as Marcus gives Emma a quick kiss on the forehead, and your eyebrows raise in surprise at the action. They’ve gotten more comfortable around each other in the time you’ve been here, but neither of them had seemed to be very comfortable with physical affection. Marcus, for his part, is always so hesitant–wanting to reach out, but seemingly afraid that he doesn’t deserve it, or worse, that it won’t be received well. You still remember the first day you saw him–when his hand twitched toward his daughter, seemingly desperate to wrap her in a hug, but he hadn’t allowed himself to do it.

What changed?

Marcus glances at you, and gives you a slightly awkward, stiff nod before leaving for his meeting.

You busy yourself with eating lunch, digging into the container they brought you.

“Tomorrow’s the last day, huh?” Emma says conversationally.

You gulp. You’ve purposefully been putting the fact that your time here has an expiration date at the back corner of your mind. Whatever you have with Marcus, it’s temporary by its very nature, and you know it.

You just don’t really want to think about it right now.

“Yup,” you agree, mouth full of noodles. 

“What do you wanna do? I’m kind of out of ideas.”

You shrug. “We could ask Marcus if there’s anything he recommends seeing that we haven’t already been to.”

“I think we should go as far out as the metro line goes,” Emma says.

“Why?”

She shrugs. “See where we end up.”

“Whatever you want,” you tell her. “Last day is up to you.”

“How’s the pad Thai?”

“Good,” you nod, mouth full. “What’d you get?”

“Calamari,” she answers. “Never had it, wanted to try it.”

“How was it?”

“Chewy.”

You laugh, taking another bite of noodles. “Think I’ll stick to my favorite.”

The two of you huddle together on the small, two-seater couch in Marcus’s office, watching YouTube videos and laughing together until he comes back near the end of the day.

Your eyes automatically brighten when you see him return, drinking in the sight of him–the crisp lines of his suit paired with the slightly unruly hair. You discovered last night how soft it is, and how much he loves it when you thread your fingers through it and tug gently. 

He meets your eyes, but quickly drops his gaze, and you try not to sink in disappointment. Did it not mean as much to him as it did to you? Or is he just better at hiding it?

“You two hungry for dinner?” he asks, putting his stuff back in his messenger back and throwing it over his shoulder.

Emma groans loudly beside you. “Gonna be honest, I’m not really feeling dinner.”

“That was a lot of pad Thai,” you agree.

“Good,” Marcus says with a smile. “Me neither. Let’s go home and have a lazy night eating popcorn on the couch.”

The moment you arrive home, though, Emma makes a beeline for the bathroom. 

“She okay?” Marcus asks you.

You grimace at the faint sounds of retching. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

When she emerges again, Marcus hands her a glass of water with a concerned expression. “Everything okay?”

“No,” she mutters pitifully.

“Was it the calamari?” you ask.

“Please don’t say that word ever again,” Emma groans, flopping down on the couch. “Fuck. Everything hurts.”

“What do you need?” Marcus asks, looking a little lost.

“Distraction,” she mumbles. “Long movie or something.”

Emma takes up the entire couch, so you and Marcus have to sit in opposite armchairs while you watch Lord of the Rings. It’s almost unbearable to you, being so close to him and yet not being able to touch, not being able to look at him for fear of giving everything away. If you two were to lock eyes, you know that you wouldn’t be able to hide your reaction to him. So much so that even Emma, who’s still alternating between running to the bathroom and collapsing on the couch, would have no choice but to notice. 

The pull to him feels overwhelming; the only thing you can think of doing is crossing the living room and sinking into his arms. It makes you feel guilty–your best friend has food poisoning, Marucs is trying to help by refilling her water and encouraging her to drink, and here you are, with nothing to do but yearn for your best friend’s dad. 

When the movie is over, it’s late; Marcus brushes Emma’s hair back from her forehead and suggests she go lie down. As she’s stumbling toward the guest room, Marcus touches you for the first time since last night–lightly wrapping his fingers around your wrist while Emma isn’t looking.

Your eyes meet, and he gives you a coal-black stare, trying to communicate without speaking. He nods subtly, and his meaning is easy to understand.

Come to me tonight.

You come to him in the dead of night. You lie awake, listening for Emma’s breathing to even out, and then waiting another thirty minutes after that, just to be safe. 

It’s nearly midnight when you slip into Marcus’s bedroom, but he’s still awake; his lamp is on, and he’s reading a book.

Waiting for you. 

The moment the door creaks open, Marcus casts the book aside without even marking his place, and rises to his feet. He strides forward and you meet him in the middle, a clash of mouths and hands as you come together desperately. 

“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips. “All fucking day, all I could think about was this.”

“Me too,” you mumble hastily in between kisses. 

“No idea how hard it was to concentrate on giving that meeting this morning,” he confesses, “with you in the corner looking at me with those eyes of yours.” 

He grabs your top and pulls it over your head in one swift motion and ducks down to lathe his tongue against your nipple, making you arch against him. 

“Ah!–Really?” you gasp. “I didn’t–you looked so… calm the whole day. Like it didn’t affect you the same way it affects me.”

“Doesn’t affect me?” Marcus repeats incredulously. “Honey, I am out of my mind with wanting you.” He pulls back, his palms cradling your cheeks as he stares at you with a disbelieving smile. “Do you not have any idea what you do to me?” he asks softly. 

Stunned, you shake your head.

Marcus laughs breathlessly, as he reaches down to encircle your wrist with one large hand and brings your hand forward to press against the front of his pants, where you can feel him, hard and straining against the fabric. “You feel that?” he rasps. “Do you fucking feel what you do to me?”

He shoves your flimsy sleep shorts down your legs and all but tosses you onto the bed. He strips off his own shirt and follows you down. “I’ve been half-hard all day,” he confesses. “I had to fuck my own hand in the shower this morning and still,” he groans. “As soon as I picture your face as you fall apart for me, I’m done for.”

“You thought about that?” 

“All fucking day,” Marcus promises. 

“That all you thought about?” you ask, your voice turning coy as you gain more confidence.

He chuckles darkly. “Thought about a lot of things,” he murmurs.

“Such as…?”

“Just–all the ways I want to have you.” 

“Show me,” you demand.

Marcus chuckles again. “Show you what, pretty girl?”

“All the ways that you want me.”

“That would take a lot more time than we currently have,” he says wryly. 

“Then show me how you want me most,” you say. 

“Let me get you ready first,” Marcus murmurs, starting to kiss a path down your body, intent on his destination. 

“No.”

“Hmm?”

“I want it now,” you say frankly.

“Honey–” he protests softly.

“Consider the fact that I’ve done nothing but think about what happened last night and fantasize about what’s going to happen tonight foreplay,” you tell him. “I can’t–I can’t wait. I don’t want it to be slow. I need–I need—” you trail off, searching for how exactly to find the words for what it is that you need. 

Marcus nods slowly, his eyes darkening as he watches you plead for him to take you now.

“You really want me to show you?” he asks quietly.

You nod.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, honey.”

You comply with a shiver, your heart in your throat as you turn around and put yourself on display for him.

Marcus mutters a soft curse behind you as his palm strokes up the skin on the back of your thigh and up over the swell of your cheek. 

You hear him spit in his hand, and you know he's coating himself in it behind you, easing his way in. He does it again, and this time you whimper softly as he cups you, transferring more wetness to your folds. 

"Already so wet," he teases softly. "Tell me if it's too much."

He slides forward, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, and your elbows nearly buckle at the overwhelming feel of it. 

Marcus doesn't wait for you to adjust, this time. He starts thrusting right away, his hands grasping your hips for leverage. He's pressing right on the spot that makes pleasure sing throughout your entire body. Once he's sure that his pace isn't too much for you, he starts giving it to you harder, snapping his hips into you over and over.

Last night was overwhelming in its own way, but this–this is devastating. You thought last night was the most pleasure you could ever feel, but you had no idea that this could wreck you so completely. 

You're crying out with every thrust, each punishing snap of his hips punching little pathetic noises past your lips as you take what he needs to give you. 

"Shhh," he reminds you. "Gotta stay quiet, honey."

You drop to your elbows, burying your face in the pillows to try and muffle the involuntary sounds, but you can tell it isn't enough. 

"M-Marcus," you whimper frantically. "I can't."

"Do you want to stop?" he asks (making you shake your head rapidly), "Or do you want me to help you be quiet?"

You nod frantically, although you have no idea what he means. You'd do anything to keep feeling his cock like this. 

Marcus’s hand wraps tightly around your mouth, quieting your cries and forcing you to breathe through your nose. Something about the action makes your pussy clench violently, and Marcus makes a quiet groan of pleasure above you. 

He fucks you harder and faster, one hand sliding underneath you to rub tight circles over your clit. 

"Cum for me," he rasps brokenly above you. “Fuck, please–” 

The soft plea is enough to end you. You wail into Marcus’s hand as you come undone, and he tightens his grip, muffling the sound. 

It doesn’t take long for him to follow–just a couple more minutes of brutal thrusts that have you whimpering into his hand, oversensitive from your orgasm. The minute he stills, his cock slips from you as he immediately collapses on the bed and pulls you into his arms. You’re both still breathing heavily, but he smooths the hair back from your forehead as he looks you over.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. “That was a lot, I’m sorry.”

“‘Re you kidding?” you slur. “That was… amazing.”

Marcus laughs and pulls you close again. “I’m glad,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his words. 

“Can I stay here for a little longer?” you ask. “Just a little.”

Marcus pulls back again and looks down at you with an amused smile. “It’s cute that you think I’m done with you, honey.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re not?”

“Mm-mm. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the way you look when you come undone,” he murmurs, tracing the tip of his index finger down the side of your cheek. “You didn’t think I’d be satisfied with just once tonight, did you?”

You giggle. “I guess not.”

He fixes you with a fiery look. “Do you trust me?” he asks quietly. 

“...Yeah?”

He raises one eyebrow. 

“Yes,” you answer, with more conviction this time. “Yes, I trust you.”

Marcus kisses you tenderly before sitting back on his heels beside you. His fingertips trail down your chest, over the peaks of your nipples, and down your stomach, as though he can’t get enough of the feel of your skin. One hand travels further down, stroking the soft patch of hair on your pubic bone before he slips one finger gently inside you. 

You cringe slightly at the wet squelch of your combined release, but Marcus shushes you gently. “Love how wet you get,” he teases affectionately. “And I like knowing I’m there inside of you.”

You clench involuntarily at his words, your lips parting as you exhale shakily. 

He chuckles. “You like that? You like knowing that I get off on the idea of you carrying a little piece of me with you?” he asks, as he starts to slowly fuck you with one finger.

“What if I told you that I was thinking about it during that meeting this morning?” he continues. “I kept wondering if there was still a little in there from last night, leaking into your underwear as I talked.”

“Shit,” you mumble. “Marcus.”

“Wanna fill you up again tonight,” he remarks casually. “So it’s still there when you’re walking around tomorrow.” He groans softly. “Fuck–Can I–Can I give you my number? I–I want you to text me. Tell me you can still feel me.”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Yes.”

“Good.” He adds a second finger and presses the heel of his hand against your clit, working you up to another orgasm exactly how he now knows gets you off quickly. When you start to clench around him, though, he doesn’t stop. He starts to rub quickly back and forth on that little spot inside of you until something else starts to build. 

“M-Marcus,” you murmur. “W-Wait, I–something is–”

“Shhh.” He keeps going, rubbing harder and faster until he suddenly rips his fingers from you as you gush around them, soaking his hand and the bed.

“Oh! Shit,” you cry out, panicking. “What the f–”

“Fuck, yes,” Marcus groans, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Oh, fuck, do that again.”

When he notices your expression of utter shock, though, he pauses, a slow smile of understanding spreading across his face. 

“Honey,” he says soothingly. “Was that the first time?”

You stare up at him, mouth hanging open. “I… I kind of always thought that was a myth,” you admit, ducking your head in embarrassment. 

“Oh, baby,” he breathes softly. “No, it’s definitely not.”

He lays down beside you again, gently tucking a wisp of stray hair behind one ear. “That was so good,” he praises softly. “So good to me.”

You smile shakily, but something is starting to nag at you.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asks, noticing your hesitant expression. 

“I just… feel really inexperienced,” you admit quietly. “You know all this stuff, and I–it must be tedious, having someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, or–”

“No,” Marcus interrupts, his voice full of sincerity. “It’s not tedious at all. On the contrary,” he says with a little laugh, “the fact that I get to show you… that I’m the only one who can get you to do something you didn’t even know you could do–Well, shit,” he says with a crooked grin. He reaches down and palms his cock, which is hard and weeping again. “Look at what it does to me, huh?”

“Does that mean you’ll fuck me again?” you ask eagerly.

Marcus chuckles at your enthusiasm. “I did say I was going to fill you up one more time, didn’t I?”

When you wake up (in your bed, next to Emma, after sneaking back into your own room after Marcus was finally finished with you in the wee hours of the morning), your travel companion is decidedly not ready to go. 

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a train,” she grumbles. “And my stomach is still in fucking knots.”

“We can just stay around the house,” you offer.

“I don’t want you to lay around being bored just because of me,” she protests, flopping down on the couch with a groan.

“Not feeling any better?” Marcus asks, coming into the living room. 

“No,” Emma pouts. “I’m gonna stay here and rest.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks, looking over at you.

You shrug. “I don’t really know. Stay here too, probably.”

“How about this,” Marcus says carefully. “I’m supposed to be going to the National Gallery of Art today to give a little talk about forgery detection. If you wanted to come, we could… walk around the museum a bit, afterward?”

You try to keep your face neutral at the prospect of spending a day with Marcus. Alone. 

“Sure,” you say, hoping it sounds nonchalant. “Could be fun.” 

“Great,” he says lightly. “It’s a d–it’s a plan.”

It’s a date.

You’re giddy as you wave goodbye to Emma–who’s watching daytime TV and holding a bottle of Gatorade–and follow Marcus out of the door. 

As soon as the door shuts, he rounds on you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you soundly. “So glad you said yes,” he says breathlessly. 

“Why wouldn’t I say yes to that?” you tease. “Spending the day with you.”

“I don’t know,” Marcus murmurs playfully, capturing your lips again. “Good question.”

“Is this a date?” you ask coyly.

He pauses, lips parting in surprise. “Do you want it to be?”

Taking a big leap of faith, you nod. 

Marcus’s expression softens, and he threads your fingers together. “Then it’s a date.”

After his talk–which you listen to with eager eyes and rapt attention–the two of you stroll slowly through the galleries, talking. Marcus occasionally stops, taking in the artwork, and tells you little tidbits of information about each piece. He seems to be using the quiet setting as an excuse to keep you as close as possible; his arm wraps around your waist as he leans down and talks quietly in your ear, making goosebumps rise on the back of your neck whenever he speaks. He seems to know the effect on you–you had no idea art could be described so sensually. 

You lose the afternoon to each other; having lunch in a small cafe and then walking down the National Mall, hand in hand.

You pick up a sandwich for Emma, just in case she’s feeling better, on your way home. As you get closer and closer, every step starts to feel heavier and heavier. You never want this to end. 

Just before you arrive at his building, Marcus stops and spins you around, cupping your cheek and pulling you to him for a soft kiss. 

“Today was–” he starts, but breaks off, shaking his head. 

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Listen, I don’t–I don’t know what your plans are after you leave tomorrow, but–”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

You’re both dancing around something big–both of you afraid to say what you really mean, and you know it, but you can’t bring yourself to take the leap. 

You had been hoping that Marcus would.

“It was nice,” you say lamely. 

“It was,” he agrees softly. 

Emma is looking a little less green when you arrive back home, and accepts the sandwich eagerly. 

“Sorry about today,” she says, her mouth full. “I don’t know what the hell that was.”

“It was the cal–”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

At first, when you hear Emma start to fall asleep beside you, you're paralyzed. You want to go to Marcus. This is your last night; if you want to say goodbye, you need to go to him this one last time.

You just don't know if you can face goodbye.

You don't know if you can face him. 

You aren't under any reservations about what this is. Marcus is a man, and you're nothing special. You're also nearly half his age. You gave him 'fuck me' eyes for three days, and he when he gave in to the temptation, you came willingly. But this was never meant to be a long-term arrangement. 

It was never meant to be in the first place.

You just wish your first time hadn't been with the total package. Marcus is sweet, kind, attentive, and can apparently make you cum like it was a competitive sport. How are you supposed to go back home, back to being around boys your age, and expect them to measure up?

You debate staying in bed. It would be the easiest thing to do. You could begin tonight: stuffing your feelings down and burying them deep, never letting them see the light of day again. You were on spring break, and this was a fun romp. A fling. You could leave it there and never give Marcus the goodbye he probably deserves. 

On the other hand… 

What's the harm in delaying for one more night?

You slip into his room for the third time in three days, and carefully close the door behind you. Marcus is shirtless in bed, and he beckons you over with a crooked, affectionate smile. 

"Fancy seeing you here, beautiful," he says, drawing the covers back with a playful raise of his eyebrow. 

Despite your heavy mood, you can't help but grin back and enthusiastically hop into bed beside him. 

He takes advantage immediately, grabbing you and turning you, and pulling you back against his chest with a playful growl. You're caged tightly in his arms, and there's nowhere you'd rather be.  

"This is nice," you hum contentedly. 

"Oh yeah? This all you want? Just a little cuddle?" Marcus teases, nipping gently at your shoulder. 

"What if it was?" You wiggle your hips playfully against his hardening cock.

"If that was all you wanted? Then I'd think really hard about dead puppies and my childhood neighbor Mrs. Fitzwilliam in order to calm myself down a little," he answers. 

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam?" you laugh. "Why?"

"When I was a little boy, I was convinced she was a witch. I couldn't so much as talk to her for years."

"Stop it, no you did not."

"I wouldn't joke about that," he laughs. "I was really scared of her!"

"Do me a favor and don't think about her," you tease. "I like how it feels against me."

"Would feel better somewhere else," Marcus says darkly. 

"Have somewhere in mind, do you?"

"I've had it on my mind all day," he says softly. 

"Show me," you murmur. "Show me what's been on your mind all day."

"Wanna know what I was picturing while I was giving that little forgery talk?" Marcus asks.

"Obviously."

"Then sit up, pretty girl."

He loosens his hold on you and you sit up, unable to keep the grin off your face. He sits up too, gently taking hold of the hem of your shirt and drawing it up over your head. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your shorts. 

"Help me out with these," he commands quietly. 

You shimmy them down your hips and kick them off, still kneeling before him, now completely bare. Marcus sits back on the headboard and pats his thigh suggestively, giving you a wicked smile. 

"C'mere."

You giggle and bite your lip nervously as you crawl forward and straddle him.

"Wanna see you just like this," he murmurs. 

"I–I've never–"

"I know," he interrupts with a wry smile. "I've got you. Just wanna see you like this," he confesses, palming your jaw and rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone.

Your eyes start to flutter shut as you feel the tip of him breach you as you sink slowly down. 

"Eyes on me, honey." 

With a shaky breath, you open them again, holding Marcus's intense gaze as you impale yourself on his cock. Your lips part, eyebrows pinching together at the stretch of him–you don't think you'll ever get used to the feeling of being broken open for the first time. 

"That's it," he whispers. "Just like that." 

You slowly rock your hips, rising up and sinking back down again. You feel so full like this; your lips part and a breathy gasp escapes you as you feel the drag of Marcus’s cock inside of you. 

This is the first time you've chased your own pleasure with him like this; Marcus's eyes rake over your form greedily and as you ride him, you start to feel overly conscious of his scrutiny.

"Do I look okay?" you ask shyly.

Marcus makes a disbelieving noise and surges up, his hands starting to guide the movement of your hips as he kisses you messing, trailing from your mouth to your neck as he flexes up into you.

"Are you kidding?" he asks softly. "You're ethereal. A fucking goddess in my bed. And if you're thinking about that, I'm not fucking you right."

"That's a lie," you say with a lazy smile. "You're very thorough."

"Oh yeah? You like how I fuck you?"

"Mmmhmm," you hum. "Liked what you were doing last night."

Marcus chuckles deep in his throat. "Is that so? Cum for me like this, honey, and I'll put you on your knees again."

When his thumb presses into your clit, rubbing in small circles, it doesn't take you long to start to feel the pleasure growing in your core. You start moving faster, bouncing on his cock, no longer caring if your body is jiggling too much or that your face might look silly contorted with pleasure; all you can think about is chasing that feeling that’s building inside of you. Marcus helps you along, thrusting up into you, and you swear he must get deep enough to feel the very end of you. 

He whispers little praises and encouragements in your ear in that deep, raspy way his voice gets when he’s drunk on pleasure. You can recognize all his little foibles, now–the way he wiggles his wrist back and forth when something’s on his mind, the way he talks with his hands when he’s passionate about a subject, and the way he sounds when he comes undone.

You’re going to carry all of those things with you, now–the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he raises one eyebrow when he’s being playful, and the way he sometimes mouths along to the words of his favorite old movies.

Is it possible to miss someone so completely after just one week?

You’re so deep in your emotions when you cum, you barely even realize that you’re about to until you’re clenching hard around him, grinding down on his cock as he works you through it, guiding your hips with his fingers pressing hard into your skin.

You’re still in a daze as Marcus flips you over, depositing you on your back and then turning you over onto your stomach on the bed. Rather than pull you up to your knees like the night before, he straddles you like this and sinks back into you, draping himself over your back as he starts to really fuck you.

Oh. This might be your favorite position yet–it’s the same angle as it was last night with the added bonus of getting to feel the weight of this man pressing down on you. His chest is against your back, his ragged breaths in your ear. His elbows cage your face and he entangles your fingers together over your head. It’s a sensory overload in nearly every way, and you’re drowning in the feel of him.

It’s so good that you feel your core start to tighten again.

“So soon?” Marcus teases breathlessly in your ear. “Fuck, I can feel you shaking. How are you so fucking perfect, hmm? You always feel like you were made to take me.”

His words inexplicably cause a lump to build in your throat. Made to take him, but this couldn’t, by definition, last. The statement only makes you wish that your compatibility didn’t have to be so fucking temporary. 

You’re teetering on a precipice–on the verge of both an orgasm and inexplicable tears. When Marcus gently brushes the shell of your ear with his lips and murmurs one last, soft sentence, you finally succumb to both.

“You can let go, honey. I’ve got you.”

You convulse with a wet sob, pleasure and sorrow overtaking you simultaneously. Blessedly, with your face buried in the pillow, Marcus doesn’t notice yet; he starts fucking into you with abandon until he lets go with a deep groan in your ear. 

When he finally stills, and he starts peppering kisses across your shoulder blade, you can feel him stiffen when he realizes that, mortifyingly, there are tears on your cheeks.

“Shit,” Marcus breathes. He carefully slips out of you and turns you over underneath him, quickly brushing the tears at the corners of your eyes. He kisses them away, whispering softly to you.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks frantically. “Honey, look at me.”

“No!” you exclaim emphatically. “No, I–I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“Talk to me,” he demands softly.

“I don’t–I don’t want to go home,” you whisper. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Oh, honey,” Marcus whispers. “Really?”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m sure this is exactly what you’re looking for–for some girl to get attached to you after one whole week of knowing you…”

Marcus smiles and brushes his thumb against your cheekbone. “Attached to me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you say. “You’re just really nice, and you’re gorgeous, and you’ve been so good to me–”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Please don’t cry.”

"Sorry," you say again.

"Hey," he says softly, still stroking your cheek. "You know something? You're wrong. You're not 'some girl.' You're sweet, and funny, and cute, and maybe having this girl right here be attached to me after one whole week of knowing me is exactly what I'm looking for."

"What are you suggesting?" you ask bluntly. 

“All I’m suggesting is that we stay in touch,” Marcus answers. “No pressure, no expectations. We talk, and we get to know each other better, and when you graduate, Miss Pre-Law,” he teases, lightly touching the tip of your nose, “if you still feel the same way, come back to me. Go to Law School at Georgetown. Get an internship at the FBI. And whatever it is that you do, I know of a place you can stay.”

"You'd really want that?" you ask, a slow smile starting to spread across your face.

"I'd be a fool not to grab onto this with both hands," he murmurs, stroking his hand down your side. "A damn fool."

"What about Emma?"

Marcus pauses, biting his lip. "She's a grown woman," he says carefully, "and I haven't had much of a place in her life growing up. I would hope that… once we see where this goes–if it goes anywhere–she'd understand."

You nod slowly. "Okay."

"I've rushed into things in the past," he says softly. "More than once. But I'm not in any rush right now. I want to take my time, get to know you, and if you're still looking at me the way you're looking at me right now in a year, I'll consider myself a lucky man."

Your smile is brilliant. "I'd like that."

"I'd like that, too. And that means tomorrow isn't goodbye, anymore." 

"No?"

"Nope," Marcus says with a grin. "Just 'see you later.'"

"Can I still get a goodbye kiss?" you ask.

He shakes his head playfully, but his lips descend to meet yours anyway. 

"Not a goodbye kiss," he teased.

"A 'see you later' kiss," you correct. 

"A 'you are so goddamn beautiful that I can't help to kiss you' kiss."

"You're making this too complicated."

"An 'I'll call it whatever I damn well please' kiss."

"An 'everything's gonna be alright' kiss?" you ask hopefully. 

Marcus smiles and kisses you long and deep. "Especially that."

– – – – – 

One year later…

“May I present: the graduating class of 2024.”

Along with Emma and the rest of the seniors in the auditorium, you throw your mortar-board hat into the air, shrieking happily as someone else’s crashes down on your head, instead. 

“Fucking finally!” Emma shouts beside you, and you grin widely. 

The last year has been a whirlwind for the both of you, and you know it. 

After reconnecting with her dad, Emma made an effort not to lose touch again. Eventually, he had opened up about his past and the circumstances surrounding his divorce, and at her urging, even began the process of making peace with her mom. They even had Christmas together, for the first time since Emma was two. 

And how do you know all this?

Well, Marcus hadn’t lost touch with you, either. 

True to his word, you both took your time and got to know each other from a distance. Talking to him was still as easy as breathing, and you’d spend entire nights at the beginning staying up far too late and talking well into the wee hours of the morning. 

It wasn’t hard to see that the something that was between you was still there and not going away any time soon. And the only thing you’ve found so far that rivals the strength of your friendship is the passion that you continue to have for each other in the bedroom.

Marcus would make trips when he could–some visits ostensibly to see Emma and other, more secret trysts where his only aim was to see you. (And see you he did; on most occasions, he’d barely let you out of his hotel room.)

Your beginning may have been a meteoric collision–two people forced into proximity that had no choice but to fall into each other–but the growth of your resulting love was slow and careful.

Eventually, you’d need to tell Emma, but it didn’t feel like the time was quite right, yet. Of course, when she visits you at Georgetown next year and you give her not your own address, but her father’s, the two of you will have to come clean. 

Right now, though, as you and Emma weave through the crowds of people looking for Marcus, you’re content to keep things the way they are. Everything is slowly falling into place, and that piece of the puzzle will fit into the rest when it’s ready.

“There she is!”

Emma beams as she hears Marcus call out, waving his hand frantically to catch your attention among the sea of people. 

She lets herself be crushed into a hug, her father grinning proudly and murmuring something unintelligible into her ear. After a few minutes, he releases her and turns to you.

“Congratulations,” he says–perfunctorily, but warmly. 

“Thank you.”

After a couple of beats, Emma rolls her eyes.

“Would you just kiss her already? Honestly, it’s more weird that you’re not.”

Two sets of eyes swivel to her in alarm.

“You… you knew?” you exclaim.

Emma gives you a disbelieving look. “Okay, the fact that you two both think you were being subtle means you might actually be meant for each other. Wow.”

“How?” you choke out.

“Are you serious? You two had bizarre energy when you met, and ever since, I see you smiling at your phone all the time,” Emma says to you. “And after that week, whenever he’s come to visit, you both act weird around each other.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly.

“Plus, you had a hickey on your neck one morning,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Real subtle.”

Oops. You shoot Marcus a look, and notice that he’s as red as a tomato. 

“Em,” he starts, looking pained.

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “Look, it’s not like we had the closest of relationships when I was a kid. I'm getting to know you as an adult, and it just feels different than it would be if you had raised me. I’m not going to say it doesn’t make me feel fucking weird, and I don’t ever wanna know details about your sex life and I am not calling you ‘mom,’ but I guess I’ll just say… I get it. You two are oddly similar, and I wouldn’t want to stand in between you and happiness. Because I… you know. I love you.”

“Emma,” Marcus says, his smile turning watery for a moment. 

“Don’t… make a big deal out of it,” she grumbles.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he laughs, and gives her a sweet kiss on the forehead. “I love you too, Emmie.”

He pulls back and looks at you, his eyes sparkling, and you feel your insides start to heat up just from his gaze alone.

Those words are still new, between you–the first time was whispered softly in his ear in the darkness after spending all night wrapped around each other just a couple of months ago. Marcus whispered them back immediately after; he was achingly patient and careful to take his time with you, even though you’d felt that emotion emanating from each of you for months prior.

It was just–you didn’t want to rush things. Love was new to you. Everything was. And if Marcus was going to be your first experience with all of it, you had a feeling that you were going to want to savor it.

You know he feels the same.

Stepping forward, Marcus gently tips your chin up to meet him in a gentle kiss. The shape of his lips are so familiar now, you could probably draw them in your sleep. You know the way they move against yours. You know how it feels when he smiles against your mouth–which he does often, and right now.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs again. This time, the word is dark and full of underlying emotion–love, affection, friendship, pride–and you grin back as you kiss him once more.

“What now?” you ask with a little laugh.

“I have a few ideas,” he husks in your ear, inaudible to anyone else, before pulling back. “But right now?” he shrugs. “Anything you want. Everything.”

“What if I said that all I wanted was you?”

Marcus’s eyes soften. “Well, honey,” he says gently, “you’re in luck, because that’s the one thing I can give you.”

The end.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal

[liliansun]

NEVER LET ME GO | LDH

pairing | lee haechan x fem reader

synopsis | it’s pretty much a given when it comes to friends of a long time that one will fall for the other, so you’re not surprised by how long you’ve kept it to yourself. unbeknownst to you, you’re not the only one holding things back and once the truth is out there’s no going back.

genre | university au, childhood/best friends -> lovers, fluff, angst

warnings | swearing, haechan is kinda rude, mentions of sex (non-detailed, just briefly brushed over), winter calls jaemin an idiot (playfully)

featuring | nct dream, heeseung from enha, chaewon from lesserafim, winter from aespa, ryujin from itzy

wc | 6.2k

a/n | shoutout to ash for beta-reading this for me and screaming in pms as she did so 🥺❤️ @ethereal-engene

I. WHEN WE WERE YOUNG

Ever since you were a kid, you always looked forward to growing up. Even if it was just a couple years older than the age you were at, you were constantly thinking about what milestone you would accomplish in the following years. You wouldn’t say this all changed when you met Haechan at the ripe age of 9, but he definitely did hinder your outlook on growing up. Haechan was the type of kid to live in the moment, never once taking the day for granted which truly made the phrase ‘opposites attract’ led you two into an unbreakable friendship from that point on.

As you two sit on the set of swings at a park near your neighborhood, you ponder on what will happen to the two of you as you enter high school in the upcoming semester. “You’ve got your thinking face on.” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, feeling more relaxed under his tender gaze. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” He adds on, playfully flicking your forehead. You wince, rubbing it with a slight pout. “I’m just thinking of what’s gonna be of you and I when we get to high school.” You never could hide from Haechan, always being an open book when it came to talking to him. When you look up from the ground, you can see his eyes soften at your worries.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen when we get to high school, but I can promise you that I’m always gonna be by your side.” You knew he was sincere, his words putting your heart at some ease. Unexpectedly, he raises his hand and holds out his pinky, something he’s always done when he makes a promise and keeps it. Smiling, you brought your hand up and interlocked your pinky with his. “Me too hyuck.” You said softly, giving his finger a gentle squeeze.

If someone passed by and saw the two of you, they would’ve assumed you’d been in love and are on your way to a relationship. They wouldn’t entirely be wrong at first glance, because you were on your way to being completely head over heels for your best friend and no one could’ve prepared you for it. When you look back to that pivotal moment in your friendship, you’d say that was the first time you finally got a taste of what loving someone could feel like and if you’re honest, you never wanted it to change.

Not much has changed over the years between you two, you’re still pretty much still stuck to the hip and spend a lot of both down and social time together. Even now that you’re both juniors in college, the two of you have found ways around your schedules for one another. While you sit on his bed, going over some notes for an upcoming test, Haechan lets out a loud sigh while slumping his head toward you. Most people would be concerned, quick to ask what was wrong and offer any help, but you knew him all too well to know this was one of his desperate attempts to get your attention. With another loud sigh, you ignore him as you turn the page in your notebook.

“Are you really ignoring me in such times?” He asks, grabbing his shirt as if he was shocked. You smile to yourself, looking up to meet his eyes and straighten your expression. “Have you ever considered that maybe I actually enjoy silence?” Haechan scoffs, turning more toward you as he sits in the chair at his desk beside the bed. “But I’m hungry, let’s go get something to eat.” You can’t deny how incredibly cute he is when he pouts, but that’s something you’d never say out loud. “I just got here 20 minutes ago and now you’re hungry?” As he pulls your notebook from your grasp, he carefully sets it on his desktop. “What if I pay?” Rolling your eyes, you let out a singular huff as you get off his bed.

Haechan takes this as a win, jumping out of his chair with his wallet in hand. “I’m picking dinner tonight.” You tell him, slipping your shoes on. He nods, grabbing his coat and shoes. “Okay, but nothing crazy expensive, I’m using Renjun’s card.” As the two of you leave his dorm, you decide somewhere on campus would settle for the two of you. “Why are you using Renjun’s card again?” You said, watching as he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his coat. “We made a bet and he lost, but I’d feel kinda bad if I blew his bank account.” You nod, continuing to walk beside him as he greets people that pass.

You’re not bothered that almost everyone on campus knows Haechan, I mean he was pretty well liked. He got along with almost anyone due to his outgoing personality and sunshine-like essence. He was essentially a charming guy who knew his way with words and it definitely worked on the girls who spared him a glance. Now that definitely bothered you, but who were you to be jealous of pretty girls wooing over your best friend? Instances like now really reminded you that you’re just the friend that’s been by his side for so many years and that the girls who call him late at night get to experience what you could only imagine, if you were imagining it.

You had continued walking when Haechan suddenly stopped to talk to what you suppose was one of his flings. She had caught his attention by calling him over and in typical male fashion, he followed the pretty girl with the pretty face. You would’ve waited for him, but who knows how long that would’ve taken if he even would’ve made it back. You entered the dining hall alone, looking straight ahead at the selection of food they have out. “What’s a girl like you doing out alone?” A familiar voice appeared behind you, bringing a small smile to your lips. You grabbed a tray and started to get items to accompany your main dish.

“Oh you know, I’m just enjoying the silence before a hurricane comes through.” You said, watching out of your peripheral view as Jeno cracked a similar smile. “Oh yeah? Where’s he at anyway?” He said, grabbing something for himself as he followed behind you. “Talking to some girl by the lab hall.” You stated, going down to pay for your food. “Figures, I bet he was the one who opted for food too.” He says, paying behind you as you wait for him. You give him a nod, following beside him as you two walk to the table where the rest of your friends were sitting.

“Well well well, look who’s finally alone.” Jaemin announced upon your arrival. “She’s not alone if she’s with Jeno, Nana.” Winter said matter-of-factly. “Lover boy is shooting his shot outside and left this gem by herself.” Jeno sat beside you, clicking his tongue as he talked. “Yeah well, one man’s loss is another man’s treasure and I’d like to be that woman.” Ryujin said, playfully winking at you. You laugh, rolling your eyes as you’re about to dig in. Just when you bring the food to your lips, Haechan brings his hands down to your shoulders with enough force to startle you.

“Why’d you get food without me, I said I was gonna pay!” He says, whining as he looks at your plate. You turn your head, staring at his almost guilty expression. “Hyuck, you were off doing your thing so I came to get food.” He sits on the opposite side of you with a frown, picking some food he knew you only got for him off your tray. “Since some of us are here can we talk about the back to school party this weekend?” Winter announced. Jaemin whipped his head toward her slowly, squinting his eyes. “You do know it’s been a month since school started right?” His lack of ability to pick up the slight sarcastic meaning by the party title earned him a punch to the shoulder by Winter. “Yes you idiot, god why do you even talk.”

Jaemin winces as he rubs his shoulder, mouthing to you with a smile that Winter was apparently in love with him. You giggle, continuing your meal till it was nearly done. When you finally notice that Haechan took the cake you had, you frown. You could’ve easily gotten another one, but the one you had was one of the last few on display. Jeno noticed your sudden sadness and put his cake onto your tray. You flash him a smile, mentally thanking him. The rest of the table watches the exchange happen and even more so how Haechan’s expression changes while watching. As you look up confused as to why everyone was eyeing the three of you, you then turn your head to Haechan who was giving Jeno a hard stare.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, he seems to visibly soften at your touch while shifting his gaze onto you instead. “Okay, now that whatever that was is over, I’m gonna go.” Ryujin says as she gets up from the table. You give her a questioned look as she signals for you to follow her. Winter does the same, stealing your cake off your tray. “My cake!” You say, quickly walking around the table to get your dessert. “Sorry hyuck, I’m stealing your girl!” She says as she and Ryujin giggle while leaving the dining hall. You have to jog to catch up to them, finally getting the cake from Winter. “So are we gonna just ignore that or what?”

“Ignore what?” Ryujin scoffs as Winter looks at you in shock. “C’mon y/n, you can’t tell me that boy isn’t head over heels for you.” You don’t comment, staring down at your cake while following along the girls. “Jeno was just being sweet, don’t read too much into it.” “No girl, not Jeno, Haechan!” Winter says, smiling at you widely. “Even I saw those heart eyes throwing fireballs at Jeno when he gave you his food, man was saying ‘don’t touch my girl’.” You shrug, trying to shake off the sickly sweet feeling you have in your stomach. As much as you’d want Haechan to reciprocate your feelings, you don’t ever see it happening.

“He’s not like that, we’re just friends.” Judging by the way the two of them look at you, you know they don’t buy it. If you’re honest, you don’t either, but purely from a one-sided point of view. Only in your dreams will you ever be more to Haechan and throughout the years you’ve learned to accept that. “Whatever you say girl.” Winter says, interlocking her arm with yours. “Speaking of, when was the last time Haechan ever got jealous, do you know?” Ryujin asks, slinging one arm around your shoulder. You smile to yourself at the thought of the memory in mind. “When we were young.”

II. HEADACHE

The next time you saw Haechan was days later when he showed up at your dorm unannounced. You were sitting in bed, headphones in with your calming playlist on mid volume in attempts to soothe your headache. You took some pain medicine to help aid your throbbing head, but nothing seemed to relieve the misery. Your roommate Chaewon decided to go out to study so that you could lay in the dark till you were feeling better. As she opened the door with all her books and bag in hand, Haechan was the last person she expected to see behind it. “Oh, uh did y/n call you over?”

“No, I came to surprise her.” He said, holding up a bag with some of your favorite snacks. He sensed you weren’t in a good mood through the way you were responding to his texts earlier and he did what he thought would cheer you up and bought you food and a drink. “Take care of her, yeah? Her head is hurting badly.” She said as she walked past him while he entered. He saw you laying in bed with the blanket up to your cheeks, the curtains covering the windows beside your bed. Quietly, he takes his shoes off and sets the bag down by your bed. You had yet to notice his presence while he started taking the snacks out and laying them on your bedside table.

When you turned over, you weren’t entirely surprised to see him beside you. You paused the music, taking a headphone out to hear him humming along to the music that was playing. “What are you doing here hyuck?” You asked as you moved over in your bed to make room for him. He pushed the cover back gently, climbing into your bed and taking the headphone you had offered up. “I noticed you were off in text today so I brought you some stuff to see you smile.” You were truly down so bad, the simplest yet sweetest gesture had you flushed in the cheeks and you couldn’t help it. To hide how hot your face got, you pushed your head against his chest once he got comfortable.

“Just a headache is all.” You mumbled, listening to his heart beat inside his chest. You felt your mind start to relax under his touch, the feeling of him rubbing the back of your hair had you hyper aware of his gentleness. A comfortable silence continued on between the two of you, just the sound of music and soft breathing filled the room. “Are you planning to go to that party Winter mentioned?” You suddenly ask, feeling his chest rise a little more at your question. “Dunno, you going?” You nod, blinking at the fading light peeking through the window by your roommate’s bed. “Maybe I’ll go just to protect you from any wandering eyes.”

You sat up, smiling down at Haechan. “Wandering eyes? What are you now, my father?” You said, laughing a little as he sat up. “I’m serious y/n! Some guys are out to get pretty girls like you who just so happen to be all alone.” You said that so confidently that you couldn’t help, but to laugh. “Why are you laughing, huh?” With one brow raised, he eyed you as you started to calm down. “Nothing, you’re just too funny.” Haechan sat up quickly, switching the way you two were positioned in your bed. He was now hovering above you, hands immediately finding their way to your most ticklish spots. “Oh so I’m funny now huh? Do you find this funny?”

You couldn’t stop laughing as you tried to fight off his devilish hands. After what seemed like nearly 10 minutes of being tickled nonstop, Haechan moved his hands away from your sides to let you catch your breath. Unbeknownst to you, he was watching the way your eyes crinkle when you smiled. Bringing one hand up to your cheek, he pulls a piece of your hair away from your face. You suddenly went stiff, watching his eyes shift from yours down to what you could only imagine was your lips. Your breath seemed to be caught in your throat as you noticed how he didn’t look up nor did he move.

You didn’t know what to do, whether to move in and close the space between you or to make your way from underneath him and pretend this didn’t happen. Your heart was saying one thing, but your mind opted for another. You cleared your throat, bringing Haechan to his senses as he got off from above you and stood beside the bed. His cheeks were a light shade of pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. “So yeah, uh as I said earlier.” He said, shifting his eyes around the room to ease the awkward tension. “The snacks, yeah..the snacks.” He could feel your gaze on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet it.

A couple minutes pass while silence fills them before either of you speak up. You’re about to try and change the subject when you hear his phone go off. Normally when he was with you, he’d only have select contacts on for notification so you assumed it must’ve been his roommate. Glancing at the caller ID when he pulls it out, you knew whoever it was that she must’ve been important. Something about his expression makes your heart sink into the pit of your stomach. He almost smirks at his phone before realizing where he’s at and what had just happened.

“I think I’m gonna go.” He said, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Silently, you nod without meeting his eyes. You could practically feel the tears starting to sting as they welp up, opting to not cry in front of Haechan over something you consider dumb. He can sense the change in atmosphere, your posture and sudden energy makes his heart break, but he’s too scared to comfort you after what happened just moments ago. “I’ll see you at the party y/n.” He said as he left while you looked over at the way he laid your snacks. Part of you wonders if he knows what he’s doing to your heart and part of you thinks it’s just how he is and that maybe you’re not as special as you hope you are to him. Either way, he has your heart in his hands and it’s too delicate now compared to your reappearing headache.

III. FAIRY GODMOTHER

“So you’re telling me that he was about to suck your face off, but for a message from his booty call and left?” You stare at your roommate, quite shocked at the way she worded everything from what you all told her. “Yeah, pretty much I guess.” You replied, throwing your head back onto the bed with a groan. You could hear her laughing, lifting your head to see her hysterically laughing into her hand. “I don’t see what’s so funny.” You continue, trying to hold back from joining her. As she calms herself down, she straightens up while wiping away her tears. “I knew transferring to SMU was gonna be different than HYBE-U, but y’all are a different breed on this campus.” She says, getting up from her chair that she pulled beside your bed and made her way toward your closet.

“What exactly are clothes gonna do to salvage what dignity I have left?” You asked, getting off your bed to meet her in your closet. She rummages through your clothes in the back, a section of clothes you never really wore unless you wanted to feel extra pretty. “We’re gonna make him jealous at the party tonight.” She said as if that was the most common sensible thing. You stare at her worriedly, especially with the outfit she had chosen. “C’mon y/n, haven’t you ever read those fanfics where the girl gets the guy jealous which lures him into confessing his underlying love for her and they live happily ever after?”

“This isn’t a fanfic nor is it a fairytale chae.” You said, watching as she turns to you with a bright smile. “C’mon, I know a couple of people who can ease your mind.” Hesitantly, you followed her across campus to one of the halls you had only been in once. You were starting to get a nagging feeling of where she was taking you, but you tried to relax and follow along with her. You entered the same dorm hall you knew that Chenle and Jisung stayed in, walking past their door with a small smile on your face. As she continued down the hall, she stopped at one door that you knew was most likely a single room.

After a few knocks and the loud music from inside the room stopping, a very tall and yet handsome guy opened the door. “Oh, hey Chaewon.” He said, instantly smiling down at her. “Heeseung, this is my friend y/n who also doubles as a roommate and we kinda need your help.” She says, walking past him to enter his room. Unfazed, he steps aside and gestures for you to enter the room as well. Upon entering, you recognize almost immediately that he was a music major. He had music sheets laid across his desktop, an acoustic guitar on his bed and the stereo where you could only assume that the music was coming from was on his bedside table.

“Heeseung also transferred from HYBE-U, mister smarty pants graduated early so even though he looks older, he’s a year behind.” She said, taking his chair as her seat from his desk. He smiles at you, shrugging as he walks over to sit on his bed. “I just got lucky is all, don’t listen to the fairy tales she tells.” You nod, leaning against the wall while still observing his room. “So she is a fairy godmother after all?” This made Chaewon laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what’s up, did you need something or do you just enjoy my company?” Heeseung asked as he leaned against his pillows. “My dear y/n here has a case of the lovesick for her best friend who just so happens to be a fuckboy.” You groan, dropping your face into your hands while Heeseung surprisingly listens without comment. “So I need you to come to the party with us tonight that he’ll be at to kinda spice things up.”

You could hear some shuffling, but nothing was said by either of them. Just as you’re about to look up, Heeseung grabs your wrists and pulls them from your face. “Are you okay with this y/n? I know we just met, but I don’t want to tag along if you’re not down.” You had to truly think about your answer for this because this could make a lot of both good and bad things happen between you and Haechan. Part of you was too scared and slightly insecure to try and get his attention on you, but you also felt like you waited so long for this and if not now, then when. You finally nod, giving both Heeseung and Chaewon the green to get ready and go. After you and Chaewon had finished getting dressed, the two of you met Heeseung down by his car for a ride.

Winter and Ryujin were texting you nonstop on the way asking why you didn’t ride with them and once they were filled in, they completely understood. You were typing away on your phone to your friends, not noticing Heeseung smiling softly at you. “How long have you two known each other?” You look up at him confused until you follow his eyes to your lock screen. It was a picture you and Haechan took over the summer when you visited your hometown, the sun kissed his skin beautifully while you hid from it with glasses and a hat. “Over 10 years.” You answer, looking up to meet his eyes for a second. “I hope this goes well for you.” Your heart melted at his words, reaching over to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Me too because if I’m honest, I’m tired or watching you two shoot love arrows with your eyes.” Chaewon said as she got out of his car.

Both you and Heeseung got out of the car, making your way into the NCT Fraternity house. Heeseung was always one step behind you, playing into the whole idea that he was your plus one for the night. You could see some familiar faces throughout the crowd, looking around to see if you could spot one of your friends lingering around. “You two have fun, I’m gonna go find a drink.” Chaewon said, barely audible over the music before she slipped off into the crowd. “You’re not weird are you?” Your question makes Heeseung laugh, shaking his head as you seem pleased with his answer. You grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the side of the house where the kitchen and typically a pool table was at.

Just as you turn a corner, you spot Renjun and Winter talking over by the kitchen entrance. “I found some of my friends.” You said, getting a nod from Heeseung as you made your way through the crowd. “There she is!” Winter said a little louder than you expected. She throws her arms over your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. You smile, returning the hug as she laughs into your hair. “Do I know you?” Renjun asks, immediately eyeing Heeseung down. “He’s my plus one, Jun this is Heeseung, Heeseung this is Renjun.” You say, prying Winter’s arms from around you.

You fidget under Renjun’s questioning gaze, knowing he has more questions that you’d rather not answer. He senses your shift in demeanor, rolling his shoulders back in attempts to relax. “Did you already meet up with Haechan?” He says to which you answer him no. “Last time I saw him, he was somewhere out near the rooms.” You nod, bidding goodbye as you decide to take the way through the kitchen to avoid less people. “People have been eyeing us since we walked in, just a heads up.” Heeseung says as he leaned down near your ear. You start to turn to face him as someone behind you nearly knocks you over.

You shut your eyes, waiting for the impact of the floor to hit until you realize someone is holding you up, or rather someone. You can smell Haechan’s cologne behind you, making your lips instantly curl up into a smile. Just as you’re about to say something, you follow his hard gaze to Heeseung who was holding onto your wrist and hip. “Are you okay y/n?” Heeseung’s voice snaps you out of the fog that the situation puts your head in. You nod, standing up with a little more effort as Haechan’s eyes move between the two of you. “Why are you still touching her?” Haechan’s tone was something you’ve never heard before. He genuinely looked like a million things were going through his head and one of them was about to be directed to the boy beside you.

“I was helping her up, who are you again?” Heeseung asked, feeling slightly intimidated and confused as to why the boy in front of you looked like he was going to go to war for you. “I’m her best friend, Haechan, you are who again?” You put one hand on his chest, feeling how tense he was as he took deep and shaky breaths. “Heeseung, her date for the night.” When you felt his warm hand on your shoulder, you didn’t know whether to push him away or accept the warmth. “Do you mind if I steal your date then?” Heeseung looked at you, asking through his eyes if you were okay. When you gave him a nod, he slowly backed away and eventually made his way through the crowd.

Haechan grabbed your hand as soon as Heeseung was out of sight, bringing you along the back of the house and into the back yard. You immediately start to rub your arms due to the slight breeze blowing your way. “Wanna explain who the fuck that was or do I need to guess?” You were genuinely shocked by his sudden hostility, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse you? What’s your deal hyuck, he’s just a friend that came with me to the party.” Haechan laughed, a little too unsettling for you to digest before he looked back at you. “Oh so he’s a friend huh? Is that what you do with all your friends now, nearly kiss them in your fucking bed before moving on to the next?”

You felt so many emotions that took the blow from his words. You could feel your eyes start to sting as you drop your arms. “You’ve been fucking some girl or many to be exact so why the hell does it matter when one guy caught my attention, huh?” This seemed to set Haechan off more than you’ve ever seen. His cheeks were a slight shade of pink from both his anger and the bite of winter winds. “You’re in love with me y/n, we all see it and yet you go fucking around with other guys so you might as well not feelings for me!” You couldn’t tell if the city around you went silent or were his words just that loud, but you could hear your heart shatter inside your chest.

Haechan didn’t seem to register his words until he looked up at your broken expression. The tears that were now flowing freely down your cheeks stained your skin as you let go of your clenched fists. “So you knew..and you didn’t say anything?” You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, feeling almost embarrassed at how easily you had been strung along. “Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-“ “You knew how I felt about you and instead of rejecting me you played around with girls in front of me?” You didn’t notice how close he was getting to you till he was within arms reach, so you stepped back. “Please let me explain, I’ll-“ You couldn’t be here any longer, you didn’t want to see him nor did you want anyone to see you like this.

“Fuck you donghyuck.”

IV. WHEN YOU’RE GONE

You inevitably spent weeks dodging Haechan at all costs. Since the night at the party where you two had a major falling out, you’ve spent your days in class and headed right back to your dorm if the coast was clear. If it wasn’t your roommate, it was one of your friends who kept an eye out for Haechan lingering around your door. From what they were trying to tell you, he sounded pretty desperate to see you, but you just weren’t ready yet. You stayed huddled up away from your usual spots where you know he could find you and slip away whenever you could.

Your pillow had become your best friend when you couldn’t stop yourself from crying each time your mind wandered back to that night. Chaewon did her best to comfort you and even laid with you on some nights till you fell asleep, but nothing she did could fill the void in your heart that had been caused by Lee Haechan himself. You were so hurt, so many questions that you had for him and you’d be damned if he didn’t answer them. More than that, you were confused as to why he did what he did with the information he had. He could’ve told you he wasn’t interested, he could’ve causally kept you in the friend zone instead of giving you the slightest bit of hope.

You were starting to get a headache as you sat on your bed, scrolling through videos on your phone. When the caller ID came down, you saw that Heeseung was calling you so you picked up. “I’m glad to see you’re still alive”. He says, laughing a little to lighten the mood. You let out a soft sigh, fiddling with the blanket between your fingers. “If that’s what this is called then consider me living like Larry.” When the line went silent, you could practically feel the disappointment through the phone. “Didn’t like that one?” You said, laughing as Heeseung let out a heavy sigh. “That was so bad, so so bad y/n.”

“Hyuck would’ve gotten it.” You mumbled, hoping he didn’t hear you as the tears you thought would have dried up start to reappear. “He misses you.” All of a sudden, you couldn’t think. The thought of him missing you wasn’t hard to imagine, but it made your heart ache so much more when you let yourself feel bad for creating such distance between you two. “He comes to I guess his friend’s room just down from mine and from what I’ve seen, he looks rough.” The two of you went silent once again, only untold thoughts filling in the gaps of the conversation. Heeseung takes a deep breath, about to say something when you hear a knock at your door.

“Coming!” You yell out, getting out of bed while wiping your face with your sleeve. “Are you expecting someone?” Heeseung asks through the phone, strumming on his guitar. “I ordered takeout earlier.” He only hums, bidding farewell as you throw your phone onto the bed and go to open the door. As you open the door, you don't know how exactly to react when you see Haechan standing in front of you holding what you assume is your takeout. “I paid him extra to let me be the one to deliver it, he kinda looked at me like I was insane, but he got a good tip.” He said, trying to get any form of a smile out of you.

You stare at him, nodding slowly as you take in his appearance. He looked a little thinner, the bags under his eyes slightly darker and his hair not as shiny as you remember it. Instinctively, you want to reach out and touch his cheek, but you hold back and try to figure out what to say from here. “Can I come in?” He says, fidgeting with the plastic bags in his hand. You can’t pinpoint what washed over you for you to step aside and let him in, but you’d have to face him eventually so opting for it now isn’t that bad of an idea. He looks around the room as if he’s never been inside, trying to find little things that he might’ve missed. To him, nothing changed. Your pictures of your friends are still up on the wall, your desktop is still oddly as neat as ever and the picture you two took on his family vacation is still in its frame next to your bed.

“What are you doing here?” The lump in your throat was keeping you from speaking any louder than a not so soft whisper. When he finally turned back to you, he could see how his much presence had affected you. “I needed to talk to you, I can’t keep going on like this without seeing you y/n.” You didn’t wanna be a fool, hesitant to accept the truth lying behind his words. Instead, you cross your arms and press for more out of him. “So then talk, but if you’re gonna waste my time then you might as well go now.” He sets the bag on your desktop, running his free hand through his hair as he gathers his thoughts.

With a deep, shaky breath, he meets your eyes and in that moment he felt like the world around him was falling apart. “I want to start off by saying how sorry I am for being the biggest asshole in the world. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel like I was stringing you along because I couldn’t get it shit together and figure out my feelings for you.” You try to keep it together, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall down your cheeks as he continues. “I love you y/n, you’re my best friend in this entire world and I can’t- I can’t stand not being next to you anymore.” His voice sounded strained, as if he couldn’t get the words out.

“I was scared to admit that I had the same feelings you had for me and I know that sounds like a fucked up excuse, but I mean it when I say I love you. Jealousy took over the worst part of me and when I saw you with any guy, I felt like you’d fall for them and leave me.” You could tell he was crying, his hands were constantly wiping away his tears and brushing them on his cheeks. Your heart was broken, you never imagined that you’d be having this conversation with Haechan, let alone watching him cry and be so emotional with you. He walked toward you, trying to control his emotions while taking your hands into his.

“I don’t wanna know what it’s like when you’re not here, when you’re gone it’s like I’ve lost a part of me I’ll never get back and I know I don’t deserve any of it, but if you can forgive me, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You were a little taken aback by his sudden confession and the overall moment. You wanted to believe him and take him into your arms as if nothing had happened, but you were still very much hurt and cautious for your fragile heart. When he felt your arms wrap around him, he blinks away the tears. “Promise me that you’ll never do some dumb shit like that again and maybe we’ll talk about this being more.”

Hearing his soft laugh made your heart swell. You couldn’t tell if you had done something right in your past life or if you were just this lucky to have him with you, but you were hoping nothing would change. “I promise as long as you promise to never let me go.” You lift your head, bringing one hand to his cheek. “I promise, you better be lucky I love you.” He smiles, leaning into your touch while closing in on the space between you two. “I am extremely lucky to be loved by you and to only love you.”

©️liliansun., 2022

#anddd that’s it! #I hope you guys enjoy reading this <3 #feedback is appreciated 🫶 #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan oneshot #haechan au #donghyuck angst #donghyuck au #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck oneshot #nct dream au #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream haechan #nct 127 haechan #nct dream donghyuck #haechan fanfic #donghyuck fanfic #university au #university ff #childhood friends to lovers #©️ liliansun

[squipdop]

HIIIII CAN I ASK ABOUT THE SIX YEARS LATER AU???

Howd they bring up the junior scouts idea to max??? Was he like Whatever sure or super tsundere or surprisingly emotional that they wanted him back after he aged out?? Did anyone else come back or do special day-long visits like how schools bring in visitors? What does max think of the new kids? They all look so cool i love Max's hair!!!!

HI HI HELLO YES OFC!!! :33

Okay so. I call it the '6 years later' AU but technically i have Stuff Planned for all the time that passed between now and then too, so this'll be a bit longer, sorry!!

Max joining the counselor team was actually kind of a natural/gradual development?? Basically, since I can't make CC content that isn't found family Max has a shit home life, and, even if he hates to admit it at first, the three months of summer camp become his bright spot each year. David and Gwen catch on to that, but there isn't much they can do to help outside of camp - until one day Max (age 13/14ish) shows up on Gwen's doorstep because he ran away from home, 'since his parents won't care either way'. While he does return home after hiding out at Gwen's place for a weekend, this kind of kicks off a pattern of Max running away sporadically, to Gwen's, later David's, or his friends places. I could go into more detail here but. this is already long. oop.

ANYWAYS. So with Max spending basically all the time he can away from home and the summers at camp, once he ages out there's. A Bit of panic starting in him once summer gets closer again, because his Safe Place seems inaccessible, and two of his OTHER options, especially for longer stays away from home, would also be unavailable. Gwen and David notice this (it manifests in Max staying over More but Angrier) and try to find a solution. Gwen proposes the Jr Counselor idea. They introduce the idea to Max by kinda implying that workload around camp is a lot, and it'd really hurt to miss one of their most experienced campers, but... maybe, if he worked there too (well, interned. basically unpaid. but! no camp tuition!) he could help them? so they basically give Max a way to say yes without admitting that he's the one who needs camp the most. He does insult the whole thing ofc, and says like he's just doing it because he knows camp would burn down without him there ("actually, most of the fires we had were started by you...?" "shut it, david") but secretly he's really really happy. He might even thank them later that evening. Quietly. Before complaining about it preemptively. <3

WAH THATS ALREADY SUCH A WALL OF TEXT ok ill hurry up w the rest:

While most of the other campers had some rotations over the years, I don't have conk rete plans for most of them - Nikki and Neil are still Max' gang, and returned for multiple summers, if not all. This year though, Neil is busy with college prep, and Nikki is spending the summer at home because of family crisis. They still video call a lot, they're still The Gang. I have sketched designs for them, but I'm not quite happy yet.

Max at first doesn't take his role seriously, because he's basically just Back For Another Summer, but pretty quickly realises Gwen and David DO have expectations, and DO give him responsibilities. He takes a while to come around on his new relationship to the younger kids, and especially one of the youngest kids takes a liking to him, a very anxious young girl, which annoys him at first, but... well. It's a whole ~character arc~ for Max waiting to happen tbh.

OK THANK YOU IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR IM SORRY ITS SO LONG. i wasnt lying when i said i have So Many Thoughts about this. ANYWAYS as thank u for getting this far heres a doodle of Max putting up his hair. :3c

#Camp Camp #Camp Camp Max #Camp Counselor Max AU #<- the AU tag #Nudel draws stuff #bitt-better

[pickledpascal]

How to be True

Chapter Three: Detroit: Become Teacher

Warnings: more weird ass cuts, innuendos, sex jokes, anxiety

Word Count: 3.9k

How to be True Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

First day of college. 

Billie was glad that she already had friends who were at the same university and was going to be living with them. She also had a few classes with her friends. Just an English class since they put off their core classes for later. Something about it being easier as a junior. 

As she left her apartment building with her decorated backpack on her shoulder, she was met with a sea of people. All of this was new to her. Billie did go to community college but going to a full-fledged university was something entirely different. The size was one thing. The amount of people was another. Thank god she knew where her classes were or she knew she’d be fucked into next Tuesday. 

Just as Billie was about to walk into a building that housed her first class, something—someone—bumped into her. Not hard or anything, just a shoulder check that made Billie lose her balance. 

“Shit! Sorry.” Came a hasty reply. Billie caught the eyes of the perpetrator. He looked relatively young. Maybe his late twenties? He had deep brown hair and a bit of scruff. Square glasses framed his dark eyes. He wore a crisp white button-up and black slacks. Was he a professor? “You alright?” He asked. His voice was strangely soothing, and raspy. The man’s eyebrows furrowed, a smile on his lips.

Billie was staring. Hard. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine. Bye.” She quickly turned to navigate her way through the building. 

Her first class was just like she assumed it would be. Going through the syllabus and doing a few "get to know you" exercises which meant she'd have to talk to people she didn't know. Which wasn't a bad thing per se. Billie just didn't like being forced to talk to people instead of talking to someone out of her own will. 

During the class, Bill couldn't stop her mind from shifting to that guy she ran into. Something about him… it interested her. She couldn't put a finger on it. 

Billie's next class was English. With Ben and Anaya. She basically ran out of her first one to meet her friends inside the small room. Thankfully, a lot of her classes were about twenty to thirty students. She hugged both of them as soon as she was close enough. 

"Someone's glad to see us. Already tired of this shit?" Ben laughed.

"You could say that." Billie shrugged.

"Imagine what it feels like for three years." Anaya sighed, adjusting the straps of her backpack before the trio walked inside the room and got a few desks next to each other. 

Billie pursed her lips. Besides a few other students, she and her friends were the only ones in the room. "Have you guys looked on Rate My Professor for this class?"

"Yeah. He's like a 4.5 which is the best you're gonna get, I think." Ben spoke up.

Anaya's eyes beamed. "One of my friends, Max, had him in their freshman year. Said he was pretty cool. He used to live in Detroit." She just hoped the "cool" part of him didn't change.

"Who cares about him being from Detroit? Destiny said he's pretty hot. Which means he's fucking hot if she said it." Ben winked. 

Billie laughed at her friend's shenanigans. She had to admit, she had a few crushes on teachers when she was younger but she eventually grew out of that. It wasn't her thing anymore. Plus, she had a girlfriend. No need to fantasize about anything.

A few minutes later, a frantic, familiar man made his way inside the room. To the front desk. 

"Shit, he is hot." Anaya chuckled softly. Thankfully, they didn't sit in the front. More in the middle. 

Billie's eyes widened at the sight of him. "That's Dr. Garner?" She was surprised. He looked young. Too young to be a professor. Or maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. She always assumed all her teachers would be middle-aged to old men. 

"Looks like it." Ben snickered. 

"Good morning!" Dr. Garner's voice rang through the entire room. "Before we go over the syllabus and do some introductions…." His eyes finally fixed on Billie. Just for a second. He coughed to regain his composure. "I thought it might be a good idea to introduce myself first, since, hopefully, we're gonna get to know each other a bit better." Suddenly, he forgot what he practiced last night. 

Dr. Garner scratched at his neck before the memories came back. He only paused for a few seconds, not long enough for his students to begin wondering if something happened. "My name is Dr. Nathan Garner. You can call me Nathan, Nate, Dr. Garner, whatever you want, I'm not strict about that kinda stuff. I've been teaching her for five years in the English department. This is my third year teaching this course. Usually, I do American Literature or Creative Writing courses, which I just came back from actually. I'm thirty-four and I'm best friends with Dr. Sullivan so that's why some of you may recognize me."

Billie glanced at Ben and Anaya. "Dr. Sullivan is another professor in the English department. She does more poetry and non-English literature." Ben explained. "Took a course with her last year."

"So." Nathan breathed, smiling at the students. He tried his best not to stare at Billie. For some reason, it was hard. "The syllabus is online so you can go over it on your own time and I don't want to just rehash everything that's on it but there are a few things I want to go over. This is an English 101 course so it will be very basic. We won't go too in-depth into certain topics, just making sure you know how to structure a paper, how to form a story, an argumentative paper. Stuff like that." He checked his notes on his desk. "Two argumentative papers and two short stories. All of which are required to have two thousand words per." 

A collective groan came from the class. Nathan let out a laugh. Two thousand words weren't much for him, but for a majority freshman class, it was.

"Don't worry, you can always use me as a resource or request a longer deadline if needed. As it says on the syllabus, my office hours are fairly flexible but I'm usually there from three to six on weekdays. Just shoot me an email." Nathan reassured. He knew a lot of freshmen got overwhelmed with the amount of papers they had to get done in a certain time frame, usually Nathan tried to time his deadlines so they didn't interfere with others. "Alright… ice breakers. What's your name? Or preferred name. Preferred pronouns. Major. And let's do our favorite media. Extra points if it's a book." He winked at no one in particular. 

"So, I'll go first. Nate. He/him but I don't mind if you use they/them for me. Not picky. Obviously, I'm in the English department but I've also published a few books. They're kinda popular with you young folks." Nate had to slip a small brag in there. Honestly, he wasn't sure how his books were popular in the first place. "Favorite media, uhhh… books. Lately, I've been reading some mystery novels." He then handed the conversation over to the student closest to him.

Nathan would occasionally ask questions regarding the favorite media question, just trying to see what his students liked and why. Perhaps they'd insert their interest in their paper somehow. He didn't mind. 

Billie pursed her lips a little as the conversation got to her. "I'm Billie. I go by she/her. I'm a studio art major. I like listening to music."

Billie. Nathan formulated the name in his head. It was nice. And seemingly fit her well.

"Favorite song? Could be whatever you're listening to a lot of right now." Nathan asked with a soft smile. He liked getting to know his students so this wasn't out of left field for him.

The young woman shrugged. "Uh, there's this song called Better. It's by an Indie band. Austin and the Powers." She certainly didn't expect anyone to know it besides her friends. She'd blast the song around them.

Nathan nodded as they moved to the next person. Maybe he'd give that song a listen.

—---

Sasha let out a yawn, running a hand through her hair before she looked through the lens of one of the camera. She wanted to establish a good setting shot. With the help of Kristen, of course. Sasha wasn't the best at actually handling a camera but she could make do. 

"Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a moment?" Bryan's voice came from behind her. 

Sasha thought all the cast already went back home for the day. Or, their trailers. She glanced at the dark-haired actor and sighed. Kristen would be fine, she had an entire team and was doing this far longer than Sasha was. So they complied and walked a few feet away with Bryan.

Slowly, Sasha was getting used to being near Bryan but that didn't mean they weren't still nervous. "What's up?" They asked.

"I was, uh…" Bryan paused for a moment. Maybe he was a bit too nervous already but he'd push through. He wanted to get to know Sasha and not do what a lot of actors did—work with each other until after the movie craze died down and never talk to each other again. Bryan didn't have too many friends who understood his lifestyle, which he was partly thankful for but he also felt so… so lonely. "Would you like to get a coffee with me sometime?" His eyes flicked up to finally meet Sasha's.

Sasha blinked at Bryan. They didn't think… Maybe? Actually, no. "Sure." They let out a small breath, giving him a smile. "We're not filming on Thursday. That an okay day for you?"

"Y-Yeah!" Bryan's eyes lit up at the admission. "I don't exactly have any other plans." 

—---

Sasha wasn't sure why they felt so compelled to dress nicely. Maybe because it was colder out and they had more winter clothes than summer ones. Or maybe it was the fact the man they had a crush on had asked them out on a date? They weren't even sure. So they put on a nice, dark cable-knit sweater, a long coat, a pair of loose-fitting jeans, and boots that made them almost the same height as Bryan. 

When Sasha arrived at the coffee shop, she saw Bryan right outside the door. Something about this weather and the scruff on his face… Sasha paused on the sidewalk. She felt her cheeks flare with heat. What was happening to her?

"Hey." Bryan spoke up, taking in Sasha's appearance. 

"Hey." Sasha said softly. Their breath was warm and they were almost enough that Bryan could feel it slightly.

He coughed, opening the door for her. They entered together and were immediately hit with warmth and the smell of roasted coffee. In New York, in the middle of fall, there were quite a lot of people in the coffee shop. Meaning Sasha got a lot of stares. None were brave enough to ask for a picture or start talking to her, which she was somewhat grateful for. She didn't want this to scare Bryan or something. 

"I can pay if you want." Sasha offered with a light smile.

Bryan shook his head. "I'm the one who asked you out. I'm not above paying for overpriced coffee to hang out with someone I like." He didn't realize what he said until it was too late.

He liked Sasha? Their heart skipped a beat. Or two. "Oh, um, yeah. Okay." 

"Hi, I'd like a caffé Americano with a shot of cream." Bryan said to the barista at the register.

She typed in a few things as she nodded. "Alright. Anything else?" She gave the pair a courtesy smile. 

"Just a hot mocha with whipped cream." Sasha added. Coffee wasn't their favorite thing in the world but it was cold and they weren't in the mood for hot chocolate.

Bryan swiped his card as he gave the barista his name and said a small thank you. The pair found a table near the counter so they could sit while they waited for their names to be called. 

Sasha spoke first. "So, uh… The cast is having a bit of a get-together at a restaurant down the street. I was wondering if you were coming?" Her tone was a bit nervous, eyes shifting from Bryan to the edge of the table. 

"Jesse told me about it. Um, I know he's going." Bryan admitted with a sigh. He wasn't sure if he should. It sounded like he'd be outnumbered, age-wise. Sure, Vanessa, Teyonah, and Jesse were going but so were Kit, Iman, and Jenna. The young actors that played Billie's friend and girlfriend. But maybe it would be nice to get to know them too. It was a little easier to get to know Sasha since they were in their mid-twenties compared to the early-twenties the others were. "I mean, I'm not one to deny free food." He joked.

Sasha laughed softly. She wasn't either. However, she was the one paying for it. "I'll make sure to save you a seat." She winked.

Bryan pursed his lips, taking in a breath. Was that meant to be flirtatious? He wondered what it'd be like if Sasha actually tried instead of whatever that was.

"Order for Bryan!" 

Both their heads turned at the mention of their coffee. Bryan stood and grabbed both of them, handing the coffee Sasha ordered to them. Their hands brushed ever so slightly. Bryan quickly took a sip of his. Somehow, the caffeine calmed him. Something familiar was nice to feel. 

"So, uh, how did you bring this cast together?" Bryan asked. He was a bit curious since it seemed a little weird to him that he was the main character. 

All these other actors were pretty well known. Jesse was the perfect candidate to be the lead. He was in similar age and had far more fame than Bryan. Jesse was in Grey's Anatomy after all. Bryan was just a guy. A guy who did a bit of acting in smaller roles and one or two games. 

That topic was not the one Sasha wanted to talk about but they weren't going to lie. "I, uh, I don't know. I've kind of always had a cast in mind for the movies I'd do. For instance, I knew about you from Detroit: Become Human and—I don't know." Sasha stopped themself. "It's a good game and so I looked at some of your other stuff. It was…" They took a sip of their coffee to get their mind running properly.

Bryan cocked an eyebrow. Sasha knew who he was? Not only that but she might have played the game he was in? Fuck. 

"Interesting to say the least." Sasha finished after a minute. "I don't want to say anything bad since you're right in front of me." They admitted with a small, nervous laugh.

Bryan swallowed. "I can take criticism." Sasha wasn't so sure about that.

"It's not about you." Sasha's eyes widened. She didn't want to make it seem like she hated the work he was in. "I just… I don't know. Some of them were weird. You're a great actor! And you're great in all of them! The plot and shit was just very…" Sasha shuddered about Dreams of a Petrified head. "Weird as fuck." 

Bryan blinked. Sasha thought he was a great actor? Well, he'd have a lot to live up to. "Thanks… I guess?" He played with the buttons on the cuffs of his jacket. 

Sasha pursed their lips. "That sounded meaner than I wanted it to." They fiddled with the top of their coffee cup, clicking and unclicking one of the tabs.

Bryan shook his head with a soft smile. He had a lot of patience. With time, he was sure Sasha could articulate her feelings a little better. Not that he minded her ramblings. 

"I like you." Sasha sighed. "I want to be your friend. I've wanted to be your friend for years." She smiled lightly, as if a memory resurfaced. "I remember the first time I saw a Let's Play of DBH, it was Séan because of course it was, and I just… I couldn't get the game out of my head. Your character was just so loveable. And I think it takes a great actor to do that. To make a character so memorable. A writer can only do so much."

Bryan didn't expect to be showered in compliments or for Sasha to be so honest with their feelings. It was a lot to take in all at once. His heart couldn't take it. Perhaps friends wasn't enough but he'd accept it if that's all Sasha wanted. 

He took a breath. "I like you too." Bryan whispered, glancing up at Sasha's eyes. They were a nice shade of deep green. "You're really pretty." 

Sasha's cheeks flushed. She wasn't expecting that. She downed the rest of her coffee. Sometimes she forgot how she looked. Or perhaps that she was attractive to the majority of people. "Thanks. You too." Sasha stammered out quickly.

That was a new one. Bryan bit his tongue, his smile threatening to widen. "Thank you too."

Sasha let out a breath and internally slapped herself. What the hell even was that? She needed to scream into a pillow. They suddenly stood up and plastered on a smile. "I need to go. But I'll see you tonight?" They just wanted to make sure. But they couldn't help the hopeful tone in their words. 

"Yeah. Jesse would've dragged me along anyway." Bryan nodded.

—---

As Sasha got in her car, they slammed their head against the steering wheel. What the hell did they get themself into? She was in a situationship with her co-star while she was the head of production. Fuck. Did that violate workplace regulations? 

The sound of her phone going off pulled her from her thoughts. Sasha fished for it in her pockets.

Jenna.

"Hey, Sasha!" Jenna's cheery tone always made Sasha smile. They had a bit of an age gap—only four years—but it never felt like that. "What happened with Bryan?" 

Ugh. Did they even want to talk about it?

Sasha started up their car and sighed as they put their phone on the dash. Bluetooth immediately connected so Sasha could hear Jenna through their car. "I basically confessed to him. Told him how much I liked the game. How much I liked… him." 

"Shit, really?" Jenna chuckled out of surprise. "Why do you sound so… down?"

"Because I wasn't planning to." Sasha rolled her eyes, glancing through her rearview mirror.

Jenna let out another laugh. "Look, it was gonna happen sooner or later. I'm a little surprised he didn't say anything earlier." Sasha squinted her eyes. What did Jenna mean by that? "Me and Jesse may or may not have been talking. Scheming, if you will." 

Sasha shook their head with disappointment. "What does that even mean?"

"It means Bryan definitely likes you too. So don't think too hard about it." Sasha could hear Jenna's smile on the other line.

Another voice cut in. A British one. "Yeah, he's definitely hopelessly in love with you." Kit. "I'm a little surprised you didn't notice the way he looked at you during our scene yesterday. And it wasn't because he was in character." 

"You two are sharing a cigarette, aren't you?" Sasha cocked an eyebrow. Not mad. Not even disappointed, she was amused.

The voices paused, knowing she'd caught them. "You're not our mom. Bye!" Jenna hung up.

Sasha shook her head. She didn't care about cigarettes one way or another but it made her laugh just how secretive Jenna and Kit were about it. Probably because they didn't want their fans to get upset. 

As Sasha made it to her apartment, they let out a sigh. Jenna's words were starting to sink into her. Bryan liked her. And not just as a friend. Sasha hoped that was true. They set their keys on their counter, glancing around. Their roommate was out. Probably at their job. Sasha went to her room, opening up her closet. 

If Bryan did like her, tonight would be the best way to test that. Nothing horrible. It just included a more revealing outfit than what Sasha usually wore. Sasha pursed her lips as she sifted through clothes. Some she may or may have not stolen from wardrobe to keep. No one made them do this, they just wanted to see the look on his face. 

Eventually, they picked out a black silk dress that draped in front of the chest and stopped just above Sasha's ankles. The restaurant itself wasn't that fancy but… duty calls. Sasha put it on a felt… hot. They looked themself in the mirror and hummed a little. The tattoos on her arms showed but it was still cold, she'd have to wear a jacket. Thankfully, Sasha had a leather one. 

Lily, Sasha's roommate, knocked on their door. "Hey, friend, I brought some burgers home!" So she was at her partner's house. Not work. Sasha opened the door only for Lily to let out a whistle. "Thought you didn't date." She cocked an eyebrow. It was no secret Sasha was Demiromantic so this must've been really important to her.

"I don't. This is for work." Sasha lied smoothly. It wasn't a lie, per se, but they didn't need to dress up.

Lily still didn't believe it. "Who's the guy? And if you say Kit… I didn't take you for that kind of person. Usually it's, like, Mads Mikkelsen, Charlie Cox, y'know. That's more your type." 

Sasha rolled their eyes. They were six years older than Kit. "It's not. It's, uh," Suddenly, they were really shy. "It's Bryan. Bryan Dechart." Sasha didn't tell Lily anything about the movie since she wanted it to be a surprise so Lily didn't even know he was in the movie.

"Connor?" Lily's mouth dropped open. "Fuck. You've liked him for forever. Sounds like a dream come true." She winked.

Sasha deadpanned. "Shut the hell up."

"All I'm saying is that if he doesn't take you home tonight, he'll be making a huge ass mistake." Lily teased softly. "After Connor, he's probably really good with his hand–"

"Okay, no!" Sasha slammed the door shut, sitting down at their desk as they ran a hand through their hair. 

Sasha wondered if the length would scare Bryan off. It was shorter than his at this point. Sasha took a deep breath as she glanced up at the vanity in front of her. 

Relationships, romantic ones at least, didn't come easy for them. Bryan would be the only one Sasha actually cared about. Maybe it was just the nervousness in their system. Not to mention, Sasha wasn't a girl. They were feminine, but not a girl. As far as they knew, Bryan was straight. Only interested in the gender opposite to his. Would this even work? Sasha ran a hand down their face. Was it worth it? 

She sure hoped so. 

#ocs #oc #sasha davis #bryan dechart x sasha davis #bryan dechart x oc #bryan dechart #detroit: connor #detroit become human #how to be true #movies #actors #acting #autumn #jesse williams #iman vellani #jenna ortega #kit connor

[sk8rgurlmiriam]

INTRODUCING MIRIAM WEXLER. A HUMAN FROM ECHO CREEK.

Miriam has always been a free spirit. She walked to the beat of her own drum and didn’t care about others’ opinions. She thought she was pretty cool and so did her group of friends. Mei, Priya, and Abby were the best of friends and Miriam was sort of their unspoken leader. Together they felt like they could truly accomplish anything.

School was difficult and her grades were not the worst, but somewhat average. But the most difficult part was bullies. They were more of a nuisance than anything but Miriam and her friends often got picked on for silly things. It was when they would bully her friends Miriam would get upset. She would fully get angry when people messed with her friends and she wasn’t afraid to throw a punch every now and then. She wasn’t a hothead or anything, but believed in defending those she loved. With that being said, she’s an incredibly loyal person and would do anything for her friends.

Middle school was a weird time. The girls were all fangirling over boybands or obsessing over Tamagotchi’s and then along came Mei’s panda thing. Miriam thought the panda was pretty awesome after the shock of hearing their friend’s voice coming from a giant red panda wore off. But, when they began exploiting the panda Miriam was on board. Then towards the end it got to be a lot and Miriam knew they shouldn’t be doing what the group of girls were. It all ended up alright at least.

4*TOWN was her first love. She was obsessed with the band just like her friends. Aaron T was her favorite, and sure he was cute and all but Miriam knew the love she had for him was not the same as her friends.

It wasn’t until high school that things started to click in her mind. She didn’t like boys at all. It wasn’t because they were gross and annoying, but that sure did contribute. She was only a freshman when she realized she liked girls. She thought maybe she was bisexual and tried dating a boy once but it only lasted a few weeks. She felt wrong kissing him and after she dumped him she told him it was because her parents said she was too young to date. That clearly wasn’t the truth though.

She didn’t tell anyone she was a lesbian until junior year. She came out to her friends first and they fully supported her but it didn’t make things any easier. She still had to face her parents. At first her parents blew it off as a phase but when the phase didn’t pass they eventually came around and accepted her in their own way. It was still tough on Miriam, but she was strong and knew they loved her still.

After high school her parents pushed for Miriam to go to college. She didn’t want to do that though, she wanted to skateboard and have fun. She went for a year, mostly partied, then dropped out. She wasn’t a fan of school when she was legally required to go and she wasn’t a fan of it when she had to pay for it especially. Her parents were pretty furious at first but they told Miriam it was her life and she needed to make her own choices.

So, she did. She got a job at a skate shop and fell in love with it. She had loved skateboarding her whole life and to work with the things she loved was awesome. Plus, her coworkers were all pretty cool too.

It wasn’t much of a shock when she started smoking weed. It sort of went with her whole style and life choices. She knew the girls wouldn’t be super into that so she didn’t really bring it up that often. Her friends she made through the skate shop were who got her into it. Honestly though, she likes it more than to just be high and relax. It keeps her calm and sometimes she needs to just chill the fuck out. Miriam knows she can be a bit obnoxious at times.

Definitely vapes. She tried it just because her friend from work had one and it smelled good. She’s not super obnoxious about any of her smoking habits though.

She’s kind of a messy person and often leaving her things out because she will clean them up ‘later.’ Later seldom happens and soon her place is a mess and she has to clean for hours. She’s not a dirty person, just messy! Though her collection of water bottles in her room says differently.

Really really really reaaaally wants a dog so bad. She would take it to the park and give it all the belly rubs in the world! Honestly, she would settle on a cat at this point. She just wants a furry companion.

Has a lot of plants. For the most part they’re all alive. She’s actually pretty good at keeping them alive and watered and in the proper lighting. She names all of her plant babies and her favorite was a small, dying cactus she found at a plant shop. She nursed it back to health. It’s name is Zezo because she thought that sounded cool. :)

Her full name is technically Miriam Wexler-Mendelsohn, but when her parents divorced she dropped it to just Wexler.

Most of the time she is just vibing, hanging with friends, or skateboarding. She takes life one day at a time but wants to achieve her goals, she’s just not quite sure what those are yet. For now she just lives in her apartment, works, and has fun!

Capricorn sun, Aries moon, Sagittarius rising :)

#🛹 bad bitch; queen shit; icon | ABOUT #🛹 pop a bottle in the bathtub while i get stoned | HEADCANON #animaniahqintro

[violettelueur]

INUMAKI TOGE || PRETTY

| featuring : inumaki toge from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, but other than that n/a

| form : imagine

| word count : 1282

| published : 29 december

| request : hi! i would like to order an imagine for inumaki where he says a non onigiri related sentence to the reader for the first time :D ah but you can also skip this if youd like because i think i remember you saying that inumaki was a hard character! i hope u have an amazing day/night <3

| barista’s notes : i hate you all...you didn’t tell me that episode 120 of Black Clover was this emotional...guys it made me cry ffs....i hate you all ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ but what i wanted to say was that this imagines curse technique was inspired but Bleach (my favourite anime of all time) and their use of Kido - which is kind of like spells they use during battle - and the name and number is the same as in the anime and this was because i was watching a fight scene from bleach once again while writing this ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and you’re welcome to come again anytime soon!

With the sunshine trying to peek through the branches, you as well as other second years were walking around the premise of the school, taking a short break from the training that you were all doing with both Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara for to Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event to prepare for the team battle that going to happen on the first day.

“Y/N, are you okay? You have been in a daze since we started this walk,” someone suddenly asked, causing you to look away from all the tall trees that covered the sky to the girl with the high ponytail, who was looking at you with a concerned look on her face.

“Leaf Mustard?” Inumaki then questioned, leading you to realise that they were actually worried. Wanting to put them at ease, you quickly put a small but gentle smile on your face and waved your hand up and down to wave them off, “yeah, yeah, I’m fine guys don’t worry. I’m just a bit tired from training,” you said in a calm tone leading to both Maki and Inumaki to smile back at you as a sign of relief.

“I can’t really blame you, you did use a lot of curse energy to train those two idiots, but don’t push too hard, we need you for the individual battle against Todo on the second day since Okkotsu isn’t here,” Panda explained, causing you to look down to the stone pavement as you began to ponder what Panda had just said.

Panda was right, you couldn’t use up all your curse energy right now since you were one of the sorcerers that could even take on Todo for the individual battle that was happening on the second day of the event. However, unlike your senior, you were just a grade one sorcerer like Todo meaning you were the strongest student within the Tokyo side right now. 

Breathing out a huge sigh, you looked back up to your classmates before quickly mentioning with an annoyed tone, “ahhh I don’t want to see that fool again, I don’t want to even fight him, what a pain,” leading to both Maki and Panda laughing at you knowing what was going on your mind.

Even though you were in the Tokyo end of the schools and the complete opposite of his type, for some odd reason Todo had a well-known crush on you ever since you had helped him defeat the curses during the attack that Geto launched in Kyoto and now you were just stuck in that whole different situation...even though you had a crush on a different person.

Slyly looking over to the cursed speech sorcerer, you couldn’t help but start to wonder if he had the same feeling as you did - and to be honest, you had no single clue. However, knowing how Inumaki was as a person, he probably just saw you as his friend due to his caring and protective personality traits.

You and Inumaki met at around the same time when you both started at Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College and became really close the second you both started getting to know each other. From the light conversations to planning different pranks, as time went on, you began to realise that your face would always have a light pale pink flush every time you would talk to him as well as your heart rate going a little faster than it originally should. What had done it for you finally was when Okkotsu came into the classroom with Rika and Inumaki immediately stood in front of you even though he knew that you were capable of defending yourself from the curse.

“Well maybe if I use my domain expansion-” you quietly muttered causing Maki to suddenly interrupt you.

“Y/N that will kill him,”

“But that was my plan,” you answered back with a pout, causing everyone to laugh at your joke before all of you continued walking before you all started to wonder where both Fushiguro and Kugisaki were.

                                            ꕥ

‘I am going to kill this bastard’

“Curse spell number four: Hainawa!” you yelled out, causing your curse energy to form a bright cracking rope around your arm - somewhat resembling lightning - before your fling your right arm towards the direction of the Grade one sorcerer that you and the second years were gossiping a few minutes ago, leading to the brightly lit rope to wrap itself upon Todo, halting his movement completely before he falls down onto the wooden platform he was standing on.

Walking towards the fallen sorcerer, you began to click your knuckles as if you were ready to physically beat the large man before placing your foot on top of his head to press his face further onto the ground.

“Now,” you started with a menacing tone before continuing with, “since you caused my junior’s head to bleed, should I cut your whole head off first?” leading to Panda, Inumaki and even Fushiguro to shiver at your deadly and frightening presence that was in front of them.

“Tuna tuna,” Inumaki quickly said as he raised his arms up and down as a way to mention you to calm down to which you instantly did the minute you looked at him directly in the eye, only to quickly turning your head the other face the way to avoid him seeing any rose hues that may sudden paint themselves on your cheeks.

Slowly taking your foot off from Todo’s head, you quickly made your way towards Fushiguro and crouched down to his level. “Are you able to get up Megumi?” you asked kindly to which Fushiguro nodded at you before you slowly helped him up and passed the young jujutsu sorcerer to Panda, so he would get to the infirmary a bit quicker. 

Suddenly, you felt a slight tap on your shoulder, leading you to turn to look over your shoulder to see Inumaki place his two index fingers on his cheek which caused you to instantly blush at the adorable sight.

‘Damn it..why do you have to be so adorable Toge?’

Once again, he pressed his cheeks as if what he was interpreting was not understood by you. After tilting your head to the side in confusion as you couldn’t understand what he was trying to do, you unexpectedly saw his two fingers reach over to your face before feeling them being placed at the corner of your lips. Starting to blush profusely by his actions, you suddenly felt your lips being lifted up to form a smile on your face.

“Are...are you telling me to smile, Toge?” you confusingly asked in a struggle since your lips were still being pushed together due to Toge’s fingers still being on the corners to force the smile you were wearing now. Nodding at your question, Inumaki moved his fingers away leading to the drop of your artificial smile before you quickly replaced it with a real smile that he was so desperate to see.

“Pretty!” Inumaki cheerfully commented, causing you to look at him with widened eyes which now, in turn, confused the speech curse user. “You...You said ‘pretty’ Toge, that is not an onigiri ingredient!” you shouted as you grabbed his shoulders before looking left and right to see if anything was going to happen since you knew the effect of his curse technique. 

However, all you heard was laughter causing you to turn to him once again to see him with a joyful expression on his face. You look at the boy for a second before beginning to laugh yourself.

“Ah what are you talking about Toge? You’re the pretty one here!”



#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #inumaki toge #toge inumaki #jujutsu kaisen inumaki toge #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #jjk inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #inumaki toge x reader #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki toge imagines #inumaki toge imagine #toge inumaki imagines #toge inumaki imagine

[rudystopit]

Looking for Someone

[aizawa x f!reader]

summary: aizawa is a PI looking a missing person. he notices a young women looking around the places the missing person was last seen. he starts following her.

warnings: nsfw, eating out, brat/tamer, unprotected sex, and overstimulation. 

wc: 5k

He sat inside his car. He would never the noticed the nasty smell of rotting food and his own body order. Old coffee cups, fast food wrapping and Chinese take out littered his passenger seat. He sat deep into the seat with a camera to his face.

He took pictures of a 19 year old girl, walking down the street. See that sounds weird but Aizawa Shouta is the best PI in the lower boroughs. His greasy hair is always tied up and his scuff leaves unshaved until he found it annoyingly long. He never seemed to smile. He always working on some case and buried himself his work.

This case was a missing college junior. Her black hair and deep brown eyes are plastered all over the city. The host parents contacted him after the police said it was likely she was dead. he never liked the police, that’s why he never became one after high school.

He clicked a few more photos of the girl before exiting his car to follow her. Her hair bounced as she walked down the busy street. She had been visiting the last places the missing girl was at. A small cafe, an old bodega, a drug store, and a bookstore. She had been down here five times in the last three weeks. She ordered the same green tea and walked to the other places. Aizawa figured out her name is y/n l/n. she’s a student at the local college. Art major. She had some pretty good pieces in the local art show last year.

He followed her into the cafe. She ordered her tea and walked to the other end of the cafe. She pulls out her phone and scans the cafe. Her deep e/c set on his. She smiled and went back to her phone.

“Black coffee,” his deep, raspy voice rang out. His eye contact never leaving the young woman’s figure. He soaked in every inch of soft small body. Her eyes darted over the screen.

“She’s pretty, right?” The young kid on the other side of the counter said. This snapped Aizawa out of his daze. “She’s been coming here more often. I hope she’s single,” the kid laughs, looking at the young woman. “$3.50”

He gave the kid a five and walked over to the other side. Her tea was done and she thanked the worker and walked out the cafe. His coffee was done a few seconds later. He didn’t want to lose her so he swiftly walked out as she quickly turns around and runs square into his chest. Her hair smelt like vanilla and it was softer than what he imagined. She backs up and apologizes profusely. She asked to buy him a new drink and grabbed napkins to clean off the tea and coffee.

“It’s fine, I need to shower anyways,” he jokes. She looks at him not laughing. after awhile of silence, she checked her watch.

“Shit, I’m late, I’m so sorry again,” and with that she was off.

Aiwaza climbed back in his nasty car and drive. She doesn’t know anything. It’s just a coincidence. He went to a small diner on the outskirts of the city.It was an old ma and pop diner with the old red paint and faded sign saying “jersey’s.” The ring above the door rang to announce the new arrivals. He sat in the old booth by the front windows. A woman in a yellow dress uniform walks over.

“Good morning, Shouta,” the young woman’s voice rang. He smiled and looked at her. “The usual?”

“Good morning Anne, yes, Ricky in the back?” He asked.

“Sure is. we were just joking that we were gonna put a ‘Shouta Special’ on the menu,” she laughed, scribbling down his name. Ricky knew what that meant. Black coffee, eggs, hash and hot sauce.

“Ha, no one wants what I eat,” he laughed as Anne walked into the back. Aizawa pulls out a notebook and a case file. He flips open his notes to scribble off Y/n’s name.

The pencil hovered over the beautiful name. Something about her perfect hair and shining eyes that put a weird feeling in his chest. She feels familiar to him yet also new. He had felt this before but never this intense.

There are never coincidences in this line of work.

He looked over his papers and shoved the food into his mouth. Anne sat down in the other booth. She liked watching him and today was slow and the other waitress said she needs the tips.

“So Shouta, tell me about this one,” she said.

“Missing person,” he mumbled scanning over the papers. His face stayed in a scowl and his eyes were dull until he thought he found a clue.

“Sometimes it helps thinking out loud,” Anne said, pulling the papers out of his face.

“Saito Yui, she’s a college student. Straight A’s. Pre-med. She’s top of her class. Barely parties. No boyfriend. But she misses Saturday brunch with her family. Then misses a hang-out with her friend, then classes on Monday. Police say she left. There’s no evidence that she was taken. No enemies. No stalkers and she never got on any one’s bad side,” he says. “There’s this girl though. She’s been in all the spots that Yui was before she went missing,”

“Do you think she knows something?” Anne asked, leaning in.

He pulls out his camera. He clicks through the photos and turned it to her. She took the camera in her hands. she looked at it with focus. Like she was trying to read her.

“I hope she’s innocent,” Anne finally said, handing the camera back. Aiwaza looked at her puzzlingly. “She pretty and has a lot to live for.” Anne always knew what to say, even if it wasn’t correct. She slides out of the booth. “See you tomorrow Shouta,” she waves and disappears into the back.

He looked back at his notes. The only connection between Yui and y/n was that they had a class together on Thursdays. Intro to sociology. He decided he would go and sit outside the class and wait for her to come out.

He watched the college kids walk around him. A lot of them didn’t notice him and the ones that did shot him a dirty look. The wide doors open and a young woman comes walking out out in a tennis skirt and a pull over with the college name printed on the chest. Aiwaza watched as she walked away. Her h/c bounced with each determined step. he leans off the wall and makes his way to her.

“miss l/n.” she wipes around and stares him down. her eyes held such intensity, it took aiwaza back. “i have some questions for you.” he says.

“aren’t you the guy from the cafe? are you following me?” she beginning to walk away from him. he reaches out and grabs her soft wrist.

“please it’s about yui saito,” his grip tightens as she pulls away.

“let go creep,” she spat. “i barely know the exchange student. she lived in my dorm, that’s all i know,” and she turn away.

aizawa sat on a bench and pull his head in his hands. “god i know this job is hard but i know she knows something.” he mumbled to himself. he got up and walked to his car. the young y/n was leaning against it on her phone. he walks up to her.

she looks up at him. he unlocks the car and climbs in hoping she was gonna move. she opens the passager side door. he looks at her with a questioning look.

“you’re right i know more but i wasn’t gonna tell you in the middle of my college campus,” she says with her attitude. he moves all the trash to the back seat and she jumps in. “your car reeks,” she says rolling down the window and pinching her nose.

“shut up brat.” he pulls out of the parking lot and goes to jersey’s.

“do you want to know what i know?” he glared at her. “then be nice,” the whole drive y/n was staring out the window. she watches the old victorian buildings turned small business fade into the american suburbs to a ratty diner in the middle of nowhere.

“jersey’s? never heard of it” she says sliding out of his car. she stretches her arms and heads to the door. aiwaza glares at her as she walks in and talks with anne. she shows her to his usual booth and pulls aiwaza aside.

“she’s way pretty in person,” she laughs. her tone drops to a serious one quickly, “reminds me of someone,” aiwaza knew exactly who she was talking about.

about 10 years back, he was working a case and meet a spunky accountant looking for something fun to do. she somehow became a target for some under organization and sadly she didn’t make it. but aiwaza had ready fallen in love with her. how her brown hair flowed in the wind as she always rolled down his windows. or how she always insisted that if he wasn’t going to dress professionally that she was. and she stuck to it. always wearing pencil skirts or dress slacks. aiwaza missed her but the woman sitting in front of him definitely had her attitude and curiosity on life.

he stay there and watched y/n look threw the menu. she mumbled to herself and pointed at some names. she twitches her nose and scrunches it up as read the descriptions. Anne comes over and takes her order which was just a plate of fries.

“are you sure?” anne asks. y/n just nodded. “black coffee i’m guessing?” she looks over at aiwaza.

“yeah,” he lets out. anne rushes away. “what do yo know,”

“well i was going through her stuff and i saw a necklace from this weird jewelry store downtown and it’s 100% a cult. i think they took Yui,” aiwaza sighed and leaned back.

“i know and they didn’t. i talked to them and they said they remember her buying the necklace but she didn’t join their pray list.” he rubs his eyes and looks at the woman.

her eyes looking over every inch of him. he felt his cheeks heat up a little. he pulls his hands on the table as she about the grab them anne comes with her food and his coffee.

“her host family said she didn’t seem like the type of girl to just leave without telling anybody,” he said bring the cup to his mouth.

“do you shower?” she asks in such a cheery tone. aiwaza chokes on his coffee and coughs. “maybe that’s why your not married,” she takes a fry into her mouth. “because you stink.” he hears anne laughing behind him.

“i shower and i’m not married because i don’t have time to meet anyone,” he glared at her.

“well the waitress seems to know you really well. you should ask her out,” aizawa’s cheeks gets red.

“shut up brat,” he puts down some cash and starts to get up.

“i’m sorry, please let me help you,” she asks.

“no,” he makes his way to the door.

“please! i promise i can help!” she follows him.

“no, do you need a ride back or can you walk?” he asks before getting in his car.

“yes i need ride. and i’m sorry for asking if you shower and saying you stink. please i want to help you. i’m really smart. i can help you,” she begs.

“fine,” he says driving back to the school. y/n talked the whole way about things she noticed about yui saito. like one time at a party she didn’t even drink or how she always showered super early in the morning.

“what’s your name?” she asked before getting out.

“aizawa,” he answers, staring at the students watching a young woman get out of his car. his cheeks flushed at the thought of what they were thinking.

“aizawa,” the way she says his name. silky smooth and he wished he could hear it again. “aizawa!” she yelled. he snapped to look at her.

“what brat?” she held her phone out. he took it and quickly punched in his number. He hands back the phone. She quickly sends a little hi.  

“I’m guess you already know my name, but I’m y/n,” she smiles and walks away.

Aizawa drives home and flops onto his couch. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about  today’s weird events. he thought about her h/c and how her eyes sparkled with curiosity. she is a smart girl. she beautiful in every sense of the word.

he didn’t even realize his hand slide down his pants. he was hard. he let his hand drift up and down the outline of his member. he thought about y/n’s voice and how she said his name. he thought about her spunky personality. his hand slips into his boxers. He closes his eyes and thinks about her small hands and pink lips. his hand moves across his hard cock. he inhales as he picks up the pace. he thinks about how soft her lips would feel against his. he thinks about if she was virgin and how tight she would be. his hand quickens. light moans escape his lips. he thinks about how she would look on her knees. he imagines her sucking him off. he clenched his jaw as his cum rolls down his knuckles.

he gets up and washed off his hands. his phone buzzes.

he rolls his eyes and opens the message.

he rolls his eyes and tosses the phone onto the table. he liked the little banters. he liked how she’s willing to speak her mind. he turns on the tv and flicks through the channels. NCIS. sure yeah not. he goes and makes himself a small dinner and sits at the table looking over the papers for the case.

‘yui didn’t seem like the girl to just leave without telling anyone,’ the host parents said. maybe she did tell someone or at least write a note. y/n said she went into her room. he wonders if she found something in there besides the necklace.

aizawa didn’t go to bed till early in the morning. so waking up and going to deal with the ever so cheery y/n was going to be a fun treat...

he threw on a tattered black t shirt and some jeans. his jet black hair pulled into a messy ponytail. the bags under his eyes could have held a weekend vacation worth of clothes. he got into the nasty car and drove to the cafe.

he saw her standing outside on her phone. her thumbs texting away. he was always so amazed at how fast teens can type. he got out and walked over to the distracted y/n.

“let’s go in,” he says in his deep raspy voice. it makes y/n jump slightly. his voice sends a shiver to the butterflies in her stomach. she follows in behind him. he orders his coffee and waits for y/n to order. he looks over his shoulder at her. his dull eyes looking into her bright ones.

“oh umm a chai tea,” she said walking closer to him. her shoulder brushes up against his. he looks down at her. her eyes dart around the cafe. she soaks in the area and walks to the pick counter.

“what did you find?” he asked while they wait for y/n’s tea.

“oh, yui used to write poems in her free time. one of them talks about a heart broken girl dropping everything and moving to colorado and starting new. she mets a wonderful man and they feel like they’re living the dream until one day he gets violent.” the guy calls out her name and she goes to get the tea. she drops her sleeve for her cup. she bends to get it, completely showing off the light blue panties. aizawa coughs and turns away. “sorry,” she says and sits down, “why is your face red?”

“nothing,” he shakes his head. “how is that a clue,” he watched as she brought the hot cup to her lips. she slowly sipped on it so she wouldn’t get burned.

“do you look at my underwear?” she laughs. “i knew you were an old creep,” his face drops into a scowl.

“shut up brat,” he said through gritted teeth.

“it’s fine, i don’t mind,” she said, scrolling through her phone, “here. i think she wrote that poem about him,” she shows him a picture of a 23 year from her school. he has his arm around yui’s hip. “that’s henry. they were seeing each other at the beginning of the semester, but one day yui comes in with a huge bruise on her arm and people asked he what is was about and she just answered with some vague thing like ‘oh i fell’ which is totally bullshit,” she takes another sip of her tea. “wanna try?”

“no i’m good,” aizawa answers. “do you think henry hurt her and she left to get away from him?” he watched as she typed something out on her phone.

“hm? yeah totally. i mean if i was getting pushed around by some frat boy i would totally disappear too,” she looks him square in the eyes. a little hue goes to aizawa’s face. “are you sure you don’t want to try it? you look like you only drink bitter sludge and gross greasy food for every meal,” she leans across the table.

“i’m serious. i’m fine with my bitter sludge,” he laughs. she smiles.

“i like it when you laugh. it’s calming,” she says. the phrase comes as a surprise to aizawa.

“aww you got a crush on an old man like me,” he says getting up. “come on kiddo.”

she gets up and follows. “maybe i do,” she whisper to herself.

“stop mumbling,” he says waiting at the door. they walk across the street to his car. “did the poem say anymore?” he asks unlock the car.

“i don’t know. i only got through a few when i texted you,” she said getting into the passenger side. she didn’t have her smile. he looks over at her. she stared out the window. her eyes didn’t have the spark of curiosity.

“what? are you mad at the joke? i’m sorry,” he said, started the car. she picks up her phone and quickly typed out a message and it sends with a bing. she rested her arm on the window and leaned her head against it. “y/n. seriously what happened? you were all jokes and laughing seconds ago.”

“it’s nothing, aiwaza.” with that he stopped asking. they drove in silence to his apartment. she followed him up the old stairs and he unlocks the green door. “cleaner than the car,” she laughs and flops herself on his couch.

“i guess make yourself at home...” he throws the keys on the table. he opens his laptop and looks up yui’s name. her twitter came up and he read through her poems.

‘even when he would yell

i would think about those mountains

how i could easily get lost in their trees.

how even if i never made it home,

the mountains would be there.

then i’m reminded

even the mountains can hurt me.’

“not the best one she’s written,” y/n says standing behind him. he’s snapped out of daze. she was leaning over his chair. her hair tickling his neck. her breath prickling his cheek. she smelt of vanilla.

“i wanna see you do better,” he sneers.

“hmm, your car smells like,” she brought her finger to her chin. “trash and you’re pretty much ash, and i think you have a rush, but your snash comments don’t bother me.” she laughs.

“haha real funny brat,” he rolls his eyes and looks about at the computer. y/n still laughing at her little poem. he reads through some more poems.

“did you ever check the ct tv camera or whatever?” she asks sitting on the couch again. “isn’t that like the first thing to do?”

“i did,”

“and?” she looks at him. he’s not looking at her. he was reading the poems and looking through pictures. y/n stands up and walks to him. she gets close to his ear and whisper “and?” his large hand covers her face and pushes her away.

“there was nothing,” he said as she scowls are her. he gives her a side glance. she was mad at him. “what?”

“you’re rude,” she huffs.

“what you wanted me to kiss you?” he laughs and looks back at the screen.

“maybe,” she mumbles.

“stop mumbling,” he says, not breaking away from the computer. “if you’re gonna say something, make sure i can hear it or else what’s the point in saying it.”

she moves to him. she yells “I SAID MAYBE YOU RUDE OLD MAN” he stops and his face goes pale. he swallows a hard lump. his heart is beating in his ears. y/n’s face gets all red. “um, sorry i’ll leave,” she starts to the door. tears fills her eyes.

aizawa gets up to stop her. he grabs her wrist. “don’t joke like that,” he pulls her close to him. “but please stay,” he wipes her tears.

“it’s not a joke,” she whispers. she looks up at him. he’s eyes soften. he kisses her forehead. she leans up to kiss him on the kiss but he moves away.

“i’m old enough to be your dad,” he goes back to the computer. she sits on the couch and goes on her phone.

“you cant be that old,” she says, breaking the silence. he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t want to ruin something as precious as her. “45?” he doesn’t answer. “50?” she gets up and sits across from him. leaning on her hands. she narrow her eyes. “23?” he looks up at her with a ‘really?’ look. “i know, i know, guess give me an answer,” she whined.

“no,” he scrolled along.

“40?” she says. still no answer. “100?” no answer. “fine i’ll look you up.” he looks at her. “aizawa... shit... what’s your first name?” she looks around for another with his name on it. she sees a pile of mail on the counter. she quickly lunges toward it. he gets up to stop her.  she grabs a piece before he could stop her.

“y/n!” he yells.

“what no brat this time,” she sneers. she looks at the piece. he tries to snatch it way. she leans against the fridge. he quickly grabs it and raises it above his head with the rest of his mail. “give it back!” she yells and jumps for it.

“it’s my mail!” he laughs. she grabs his collar and stands on her tip toes. she reaches for it. he places his other hand on the fridge to keep his balance. “stop y/n! you won’t get it!”

“i’ll stop when you tell me how old you are!!” she says trying to climb him.

“stop being a brat. i’m not going to tell you how old i am,” he smiles as he watches her try to get the mail.

“make me,” she stops and looks him in the eye.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.” he puts the mail on top of the cabinets and walks away. she instantly start climbing on the counter. he grabs her hips and pulls her done. he bear hugs her. “STOP IT!”

“NEVER!” she bites him. he lets go, “just tell me how old you are.”

“jesus, fine, 41,” he sighs and sits on the couch. she sits next to him.

“that wasn’t so hard now was it,” she laughs.

“you’re an absolute brat,” she leans her head on his shoulder. he puts his head on top of hers. her hand plays with his hand. tracing each vein and knuckle. she laces her fingered with his. he doesn’t pull away. all he does is whisper “please y/n, we can’t-“ she cuts him off by kisses his cheek.

“we’re two consenting adults. why can’t we,” she whines. she shifts to sit in his lap. she laces both hands together. he tries to control his breathing. he looks over every inch of her body. she just looks down at him. she leans down and kisses him. she puts his hands on her hips. her arms snake themselves around his neck. he breaks away.

“are you sure?” he asks.

“yes,” she breathes out. she leans back down and kisses him. his hands travels up her shirt and he undoes her bra. she pulls away and strips off the shirt and bra. he starts kissing down her neck, leaving red and purple marks. one of his hands moves to grope the soft flesh of her boobs. y/n arcs her back against his hand.

aizawa shifts and flips her onto her back. he gives her a quick peck then he leaves trails ok quick little kisses down to the waist band of her skirt.he wraps his fingers around the fabric and looks up at her. y/n nods.

“use your words bunny,” he says kissing her stomach.

“yes, please,” she says, tangling her fingers into his hair. aizawa pulls off her skirt. he smiles at the light lacy panties. he slowly slides them down. he kisses the bottom of her stomach. y/n’s hand yanks the collar of his shirt. he quickly takes it off. she sits up and creases every inch of his body. she soaks in all the little scars and muscles. he grabs her wrist and kisses the top of her hand. he leaves a trail of kisses down her arm and to her mouth.

y/n puts her hand back on his chest and pushed him back. she straddles him. she leans down and gives him light kisses everywhere while her hand slowly drifts to his pants. she rubs the forming bulge. he sucks on his teeth. she smiles down at him.

“damn you too good for me,” he whispers.

“damn right old man,” she laughs. he rolls his eyes and sits up. he pulls her closer. her clit grazing over his jean covered dick. she moans into his ear.

“fuck,” he whispers. her hands drive in between her legs and undoes his jeans. he chuckles. “so impatience,”

“shut up,” she sneers. he picks her up and brings her to his bed. he tosses her down. he pulls down his pants. “hmm boxer briefs guy,”

“i’ll leave..” he says. she laughs and pulls him onto her. they kiss and his hand makes it’s way to her heat. he spreads her folds. she moans into the kiss. he smiles. he drags his middle fingers from the bottom to her clit. y/n rolls her hips to his touch. he rubs small circles into the bud. she smirks under him.

“aizawa please,” she moans.

“shouta,” he whispers. his finger hovers over her entrance.

“hmm?” she looks up at him. he slides his finger in. she moans and grips onto the bed. he  kept his hand still, feeling her clench around him.

“my first name,” he whispers. she thinks for a second and opens her mouth to say his name, but he starts moving his fingers causing her to moan it. she hits his arm.

“you purposely did that,” she pouted.

“so what if i did,” he leans down. y/n can feel his breath on her ear. “i want to hear it again.” her face gets all flushed. he moves his finger at a slowly pace. after awhile of little mewls and light breathing moans, aizawa slips his ring finger in.

“shouta~” she moans out.

“that’s it, good girl,” he picks up his pace. she continues to moan. aizawa kisses her collarbone and attaches himself to her boobs. his tongue expertly swirls around her hardened buds. her hands tangled in his hair. she feels the knot in her stomach come undone as she comes on his fingers. he pulls them out and looks at them. she looks at him.

“don’t,” she says. he’s eyes flicker at her. “please don’t,” he smiles and sticks his two fingers in his mouth. he closes his eyes and moans.

“mmm sound good,” he teases. she throws a pillow at him.

“you suck,” she whines. he lays down on top of her and kisses her. she wraps her arms around him. he slides his hands down and brings her legs up. she wraps them around his waist. he sides his hand down his underwear and brings his harder dick out. he teases her entrance before pushing the tip in. she moans into the kiss.

“fuck you’re so tight,” he hissed into her ear.

“what? ever fucked a college student?” she laughs. until he slams his hips into her. she cried out in pain. “god, your a lot bigger than you seem, shouta,” she moans his name which makes him want to fuck her into the bed.

he pulls out them slams back in. “you better take it with out complaints. you’re the one who’s been asking for it,” he says threw gritted teeth. she does this breathing moan that sends him over the edge and into an absolute feral mindset. he holds himself up on his elbows and just pounds y/n into the bed. her moans turn into screams of pleasure as her legs squeeze around his waist.

the knot in her stomach reappears and she clenched around his dick. “fuck y/n, beg to come you fucking slut,” he groans out.

“shouta please.” he trusts even deeper. “fuck. god please shouta let me come on your huge dick,” she whimpers out, feeling the knot in her stomach snap.

“omg yes, y/n,” he moans as her pussy clenched around him. her beautiful moans escape her lips as her face shows nothing but euphoria. her pussy sucks him in, clenching around him, trying to milk him. he lets out a grunt as he paints her velvety walls white. he weakly thrust a few more times before collapsing next to her. he pants as she rolls over and puts her head on his chest. his large hand pets her hair as she falls asleep in his arms.

He whispers to himself,  “you’re the one I’ve been looking for,”

#bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #shoto aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa smut #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #mha #mha fanfic #mha smut #fanfiction #my hero fanfic #fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy smut #my hero academy fanfiction

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

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[here4theheartbreak]

Bewitched by Babysitter (NamKook)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationship: Jungkook x Namjoon

Genre: smut, fluff | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: ~6.9k

Summary: Namjoon is a young, single father who is set up on a blind date. He needs a babysitter, and his friend knows just the man to help.

Tags: smut, fluff, getting together, dad Namjoon, college student Jungkook, dirty talk, bareback, rough sex, coming untouched

Dating was hard as hell. Being a single parent made it exponentially more difficult. Which was mostly why Namjoon hadn’t bothered to try. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He was lonely, he missed intimacy both emotionally and physically… But he just couldn’t be bothered. That and, if directly asked, Namjoon would admit that the thought of leaving his girl alone to go on a date was far more stress than was worth it. She was his life, and had been since the day she was put in his arms.

But Mingi was beginning to get older, and Namjoon knew he’d need to loosen that grip eventually. She was due to go to school for the first time the next year, and he’d still not spent more than a few hours away from her, save for when his parents wrenched her away for a grandparent play date. 

It was his best friend, Yoongi, that had suggested the blind date. And the babysitter. Jeon Jungkook was a handsome twenty-one-year-old college student. He was finishing up his junior year, and Yoongi knew him through his boyfriend; Hoseok, who was a frequent guest teacher in one of Jungkook’s dance classes. So, he was an adult, responsible, and came highly praised. The date, on the other hand, was simply someone Yoongi knew. Minimal information, but he figured they’d get along and didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Namjoon would have much rather spent the evening playing games with Mingi. 

But, if anything to appease his friend, Namjoon begrudgingly prepped for the date, cleaning himself up and making himself look quite presentable. He worked from home, and often forgot what going out clothing looked like, but a quick photo to Yoongi and a thumbs up emoji response told him he’d managed to pull something off. He was just applying a touch of cologne when the doorbell rang.

“I get it!” Screamed Mingi, who had been excited about the prospect of a new friend all week since Namjoon had broken the news. He rushed out behind her, his heart pounding in his ears. Maybe he’d hate the guy. A bad gut feeling, a drug smell, something. Anything to cancel this date. 

Namjoon came around the side of the door that Mingi had thrown open. His breath slammed from his chest, the oxygen seeming to leave the room. Standing on his doorstep was the most beautiful man Namjoon had ever seen. He wore an open leather jacket over a simple black t-shirt. His jeans were far too tight (they were just right, who was he kidding), and had a perfectly placed thigh rip, revealing musculature that any man of their age group would envy. Heavy, flat soled sneakers and a perfectly styled undercut topped off the look, the neon red strap of a backpack visible over one shoulder.

“You must be Kim Namjoon.” 

The boy’s voice was just as heavenly as the rest of his body. He lowered his gaze and grinned, his nose crinkling to reveal large front teeth. “And you must be Kim Mingi. My name’s Jungkook. I heard you’re in charge tonight,” he said. There was no hint of baby talk in his voice – in fact it didn’t change one octave, something Namjoon appreciated. He abhorred baby talk. Jungkook crouched down and offered his hand to her. Mingi giggled and shook it, looking up at Namjoon. 

“I’m in charge!”

“Always, princess,” Namjoon said. Jungkook rose once more and stuck his hand out over Mingi’s head. 

“Pleased to meet you. Hobi-hyung’s told me a lot about you.”

“Not too much bad, I hope.”

“Not a thing.”

“Please, come in. I’ll show you around. You’re right on time.”

Jungkook entered, stepping around Mingi. He kicked off his sneakers at the door and followed Namjoon through the house. 

“The kitchen, you’re welcome to anything except the beer, of course. Mingi insisted on ordering in, so there’s a few menus and a card you can use.”

Jungkook glanced over at it and nodded. Namjoon led him down the hall. “Bathroom, Mingi’s room, she doesn’t need a bath or anything tonight, so no need to worry about that. Just make sure she brushes her teeth. Bedtime is at seven sharp, but she’ll do all she can to stay up later with more stories.” 

Jungkook laughed a little at that, a bright thing that had Namjoon’s heart skipping a few beats. (He should really consider getting that checked out if it kept happening). 

He led Jungkook out of the room and into the living room. “So my room’s there – it’s pretty much the only place off limits for Min when I’m not at home, my work stuff is breakable, so I ask that you keep the door shut.”

Jungkook nodded. He glanced around the living room and smiled when his eyes landed on Mingi, sprawled out on the floor. She was holding a bright pink and yellow Pegasus stuffed animal, making quiet airplane noises as she moved it back and forth through the air.

Jungkook went over. He set his backpack down and laid on his back, watching her. 

“Is that the noises she makes?” He asked.

“It’s a boy. His name is Min Yoongi, like my Uncle Yoongi.” 

“Ohh,” Jungkook nodded, “I’m sure Yoongi would appreciate that.”

“You know my Uncle?”

Jungkook nodded. “I go to school with his…” Jungkook drifted off, looking to Namjoon. 

“With Uncle Hobi,” Namjoon filled in. Jungkook seemed to relax visibly and smiled. 

“Yeah, he teaches me dance.”

Mingi gasped. “You dance? Can you show me dances? I wanna dance.” She pouted. “But Daddy wants me to be older.”

Jungkook laughed a little. “Well when you’re older he might be able to put you into a class. We can dance tonight if you want. Do you know good music?”

“Uh-huh! I love Crayon Pop.”

“Wah, Crayon Pop, they’re awesome!” Jungkook cried. Mingi sat up. 

“You like them?” She clapped excitedly. “Daddy! He likes Crayon Pop!”

Namjoon smiled helplessly. “What luck! You two can listen to them tonight.”

Jungkook sat up and then rose, brushing his jeans off. “Any limits on screens or anything?”

“Normally, yes, but not tonight,” Namjoon said. “Figured, special occasion. Just try to make sure she only watches… You know, child friendly stuff.”

“I’ll keep a close eye on it,” Jungkook assured him. 

“I should be home no later than ten or eleven. Honestly, probably not even that long.”

Jungkook shook his head. “Hobi-hyung told me a little. You’ve not been out in a while. Take your time. We’ll be okay here.”

Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “How pathetic, huh?” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. “You’re twenty-one, right?”

Jungkook nodded. 

“Ridiculous. We’re only three years apart. And I’m pretty much an old miser.”

“You are far too handsome to be an old miser,” Jungkook said, grinning brightly. Namjoon’s heart did that dangerous stutter step once more.

“I—Uh—Oh.” Namjoon cleared his throat. He hurried over to a desk and scrawled on a notepad. “My number is here. Feel free to call or text if you need anything, I’ll answer.”

“Of course. When do you go?”

Namjoon glanced at his phone. “I should head off now… I don’t wanna get caught in traffic.”

Jungkook nodded. He shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the arm of the couch. Namjoon’s breathing, once again, cut off at the sight of the muscles in his forearms. He looked strong… And fit… 

Jungkook cleared his throat, and Namjoon looked up, his eyes widening at being caught staring. He turned quickly and scooped Mingi up. “Daddy’s gonna go now, okay?”

“Can we really order takeout?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yep, just let Jungkook know when you’re hungry.” She wiggled a little in Namjoon’s arms to look at Jungkook.

“I’m hungry!”

Jungkook grinned. “As soon as your Daddy leaves we’ll order. Maybe you could talk me into dessert.” He winked in mock sneakiness, and Mingi’s eyes widened. She giggled behind her hands and did her best to wink back, blinking both eyes instead. 

Namjoon’s heart squeezed. He was great with her. He kissed Mingi’s cheek and set her down. “Behave for Jungkook, okay?”

“I promise!” 

Namjoon pulled on his jacket and hunted for his wallet. “Like I said, call if you need anything,” he said.

Jungkook rushed forward, grabbing it from a nearby table and passing it to Namjoon. “You look great. She’s gonna be blown away tonight,” Jungkook said, straightening the collar of Namjoon’s coat.

“Thank you. See you later.” He waved to Mingi as he tugged on his shoes. He took a moment to glance back before hurrying out, knowing that if he didn’t leave that moment, he wouldn’t go at all.

The thing about blind dates was that they always had the chance of failure. About a hundred things could potentially go wrong. The most glaring issue, of course, is simple lack of compatibility. Which, unfortunately for Namjoon, was becoming the apparent issue with this one. 

Bora was a lovely woman, she honestly was. And Namjoon understood right away why Yoongi thought they’d work well together. Bora was as smart as a whip, and devastatingly funny. She was beautiful as well, and clearly had a good head on her shoulders. But something was off. Namjoon couldn’t put his finger on it. Their personalities worked, and he was sure they’d be great friends, but there was simply no spark there. More than once he found his mind wandering as she spoke, and he caught her wandering just as frequently. He was grateful when his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

“Oh, excuse me. This is likely my sitter. I need to use the restroom anyway.” he said. Once she nodded, looking just as grateful as he did for the break, Namjoon rose and headed toward the bathroom. Near to it, he tapped open his phone and clicked the text. 

‘Miss Mingi insisted that I send you and Hobi-hyung this for your formal critique, Mr.Kim.’ Attached was a video. Namjoon’s brows furrowed as he pressed play. It was filmed in his living room, the phone propped up on his couch, if he wasn’t mistaken. Jungkook backed up and pressed play on the YouTube video paused on the television. Immediately a cheery song drifted from the speakers, one Namjoon knew well – Bar Bar Bar, from Crayon Pop. Mingi and Jungkook stood side by side, facing the camera. He looked at her and counted softly. On one, they began doing the choreography to the music. Jungkook’s moves were smooth and obviously practiced. Mingi was a little less cohesive, often losing her place and looking to Jungkook for guidance. He kept an eye on her, helping her catch up by exaggerating the moves when she’d get lost. Mingi’s laughter covered the sound of the music as she caught on, bouncing to the bright beat. Jungkook was grinning broadly, visible even from the distance of the camera.

When the video ended, Namjoon blinked, surprised to find his eyes had watered. He wasn’t an extremely emotional man – even with his daughter… But there was something about it. His heart clenched when he scrolled back in the video. He paused it at a perfect moment. Mingi was looking up at Jungkook, her eyes wide and adoring. Jungkook was looking down, his expression filled with an equal amount of adoration. 

Namjoon blinked quickly to clear his vision, sniffing. He tapped out a response.

‘100 out of 100 for Miss Mingi. 90 out of 100 for Mr. Jeon – your form was off for 0.005 seconds ;)’ 

Namjoon slipped into the bathroom, taking a moment to collect himself before heading back out to the table with Bora. 

On the way his phone buzzed once more, and he couldn’t resist checking it. 

‘I call a biased judging! But she’s adorable, so it can slide :D’

Namjoon chuckled and slid his phone into his pocket as he sat down.

“Everything okay?” Bora asked.

“Yeah, just my sitter checking in.”

Bora sighed, folding her hands neatly over her nearly empty plate. “Tonight has been nice, Namjoon-ssi… But I think you and I both can sense it’s not going anywhere. At least not… Where we’d like it to go.”

Namjoon’s shoulders slumped. He nodded, hanging his head. “I’m sorry. I feel bad, I wanted to make it work.”

Bora reached over, setting her hand over his. “It’s not your fault, or mine. Sometimes these things just don’t work. You are a lovely man, and your daughter sounds like an angel. Someone will be very lucky to finally call you theirs.”

“You too, Bora.” Namjoon squeezed her hand gently. “Yoongi was right, you are amazing. I would like to be friends, if you want.”

She beamed. “I’d enjoy that. So see, the night was not lost. We’ve made new friends.”

Namjoon nodded, smiling softly. “You are right.” He reached up, calling for the check. “Do you have a way home? We can share a car.”

“No, I have my roommate coming to pick me up in a while. I had a feeling we may end things early.”

“Understandable.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“No, I’ll take a car. I need to stop and get cash for Jungkook anyways.”

Namjoon took the bill gratefully and handed over his card to the server. 

When it was returned, Namjoon rose, helping Bora into her jacket and standing out with her until her friend came. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” He smiled softly and waved, watching as the car drove off. He called a car for himself, leaning against a nearby light pole. As he waited, he found himself watching the video Jungkook had sent a few more times, his heart seeming to clench uncomfortably each time. 

The man was unbearably beautiful. And so good with Mingi, Namjoon had never seen someone so naturally good with children. And Mingi’s adoration was clear – she was quite fond of Jungkook already. He would need to have Jungkook over more often. Not even as a sitter, perhaps for dinner one night. He wanted to get to know the boy more himself, if he was being honest. 

Namjoon let his mind wander, and it drifted almost naturally to Jungkook. His body – his smile. 

He wondered what the boy’s story was, where he was from, why he wanted to dance. What he did for fun… If he had a partner… Namjoon knew it was a dangerous line of thinking, but he couldn’t help it. He climbed into the car once it arrived, gazing out the window as they wove through the traffic toward his part of the city. 

The house was quiet when Namjoon entered, and only the hallway light was on. He scowled, looking around. The remains of dinner in the trash, a receipt on the counter… Jungkook’s bag unzipped on the couch, a few books sticking out. Namjoon resisted the urge to snoop. He walked quietly down the hall, peeking into Mingi’s room. 

She was curled up in her bed, arms wrapped in a stranglehold around her little Pegasus as she slept. Jungkook was also in her room. He was sprawled out on the floor, using one of Mingi’s stuffed puppies as a pillow. A textbook and notebook were open to his right, a pencil rolled a few feet away. Chemistry, if Namjoon’s eyes served him correctly. One of Mingi’s storybooks was open to Jungkook’s left. His eyes were shut, plush lips parted as he snored softly.

Namjoon snuck in as quietly as he could, picking up the pencil and carefully shutting the text book. He scooped it up before reaching out and shaking Jungkook lightly. 

Jungkook snorted and shifted, blinking tiredly. He looked up and his eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet, bowing low.

“Sorry—” He whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon responded in a quiet voice He beckoned Jungkook out of the room and shut Mingi’s door. 

“What time did she go down?” Namjoon asked, handing Jungkook’s school supplies back to him as they walked back into the living room.

“A little before I sent you that video. We were busy so I didn’t have a chance to send it before.”

Namjoon nodded. He flipped on the living room light and leaned on the wall, watching Jungkook pack up his backpack.

“You are great with her. Do you have siblings?”

“An older brother, none younger. I’ve just always really liked kids. I help out at the local dance studio when I can, working with five to seven year olds.”

“The one a few blocks away from the college?”

Jungkook nodded. “That’s the one Hoseok told me to enroll Mingi in.”

“Honestly, if I’m not speaking out of turn, the girl has a lot of natural talent. You’d do well to let her nurture it.”

“I’ve thought of it. I’m just…” Namjoon chuckled, “Over protective.”

Jungkook nodded, He sat down on the couch. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure.” Namjoon sat down with him.

“Hobi-hyung told me you were young, and a single father. But you aren’t much older than me. Mingi is school age. What… Happened?”

Namjoon smiled. “When I was a sophomore in college, I hooked up with a kind freshman. She was pre-law, on a scholarship, had a bright future. I was a jackass rich kid who thought I owned the world. We had sex, and the condom broke.” He shrugged. “I knew it was my responsibility too. Having a baby and raising it would have ruined her life. She didn’t want that. So I took responsibility. I offered to help her through the pregnancy, and then when the child was born I’d take full custody.”

“So she’s not in the picture at all?”

“We’re still friends, and she does know Mingi. But she isn’t a mother. Some people just aren’t meant to be parents, and she is one of them, we both know it. I, on the other hand… Have always wanted to be a dad. I just got my wish a few years sooner than planned.”

“So you’re… Only what, Hobi-hyung’s age?”

Namjoon nodded. “We’re the same year, yeah. A few years older than you.”

“You’re so mature and put together.” Jungkook looked around. “I’d kill to be this set up when I’m in my early twenties.”

“It can happen. Just takes dedication.”

“So how did your date go?” Jungkook suddenly asked. He stretched out and lifted his arms, baring his tight stomach for a moment. Not that Namjoon was looking…

“Wh—” Namjoon looked back up to Jungkook’s face. “Oh, uh, yeah, it didn’t go well. She was nice, but…”

“Not compatible.”

“Right.”

Jungkook nodded. “That’s too bad,” he said softly, looking down at his lap.

“Why?” “Well… If it didn’t work out, there’s no more need for a babysitter. I was kinda hoping to come over more to watch Mingi and see… You.”

Jungkook met Namjoon’s gaze, smiling a little. “She must have been blind. You’re a stunning man.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Thank you for the praise, Jungkook. But it was just our personalities, really.”

“Well still. She’s missing out.”

“Just because I don’t have another date with her doesn’t mean I won’t need a sitter. Especially one as good with Mingi and as kind… Maybe I’ll find more time to go out.”

“Or you could stay in,” Jungkook offered. “And just have me over… To hang out.”

Namjoon remained silent. He met Jungkook’s gaze, a little surprised to see his expression had darkened to something far more… Primal. Namjoon’s stomach knotted. 

“Jungkook—"

“I like you. I did the second you opened that door. You’re handsome and mature and a good parent. You seem like the kind of man that knows what he wants… And goes and gets it.”

The spit in Namjoon’s mouth seemed to dry up all at once. “I—I suppose that’s been said.”

“So why are you hesitating?”

Namjoon tilted his head a little, unsure what Jungkook was implying.

“It’s okay, you know,” Jungkook said softly.

“What is?”

 Jungkook smirked. He leaned a little closer to Namjoon. “That you wanna fuck the babysitter.”

Namjoon yelped, jumping to his feet, his eyes widening. “What?!”

Jungkook covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter to no avail. He looked pointedly at Namjoon’s crotch, not moving from the couch. 

Namjoon scowled and looked down. Much to his surprise, he realized his slacks, which fit far too tightly anyways, were beginning to tent with the half-erection he’d gotten. Half hard just from sitting next to a handsome man, what was he, a teenager? Namjoon  covered his crotch quickly. “That’s not— I mean, I’m not a pervert, I—“

“You what?” Jungkook pressed. “Weren’t picturing me naked?” 

Namjoon’s silence seemed to give Jungkook the answer he needed. He rose, stepping toward Namjoon. “It’s a normal fantasy, I suppose. A single parent... A young, handsome man. A big empty bed...” He pushed Namjoon’s hands away from his crotch and cupped the bulge, a smirk on his pretty mouth. 

Namjoon’s eyes rolled back. He could feel his cock hardening further, and Jungkook gave a tentative stroke, sending sparks up his spine.

“It’s big,” he cooed. “I’ll say it again, Mr.Kim...” He moved closer, pressing his lips against Namjoon’s neck before moving to his ear. “Do you wanna fuck your babysitter?”

Namjoon gave a strained groan before nodding quickly. 

“I want you too, sir,” Jungkook responded. Namjoon’s cock twitched in Jungkook’s hand. The way he loved being called that. 

“I don’t get many men to fuck me good and hard... They make me top, usually. Do you want to fuck my ass? Bend me over and make sure I remember you tomorrow?”

“Jungkook—“

“Take me to bed, Mr. Kim.”

“Call me Namjoon, please—“

“I will... But wouldn’t you prefer sir?” 

Namjoon moaned brokenly. He grabbed Jungkook’s hair and yanked his head back, pressing their lips together hard. Jungkook sighed contentedly against Namjoon’s mouth. He twisted his hips forward, and Namjoon could feel Jungkook’s cock growing hard in his jeans. Namjoon broke the kiss quickly and dragged him toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut before shoving him onto his back onto the bed. 

Jungkook giggled, biting his bottom lip. He looked up at Namjoon, reaching down to undo his jeans. Namjoon crawled over him, catching his mouth in another kiss. He pushed Jungkook’s hands out of the way and undid the zipper himself, reaching in to stroke Jungkook’s cock through his boxers. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Jungkook muttered against his mouth.

“Do you want it?” Namjoon worried, pressing kisses over his cheek and jaw.

“I do. I wanted to kiss you from the moment I met you,” Jungkook admitted. He slid his hands over Namjoon’s shoulders and then around, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “You looked so nice dressed up. You smelled so good. I was a bit jealous.”

Namjoon lifted his head, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. “Jealous?”

“Mhm… That I was the babysitter… And you were going out with someone else.” He pushed his shirt open and leaned up, kissing Namjoon’s bare chest. He bit down lightly on Namjoon’s nipple. The surprise pleasure-pain of it twisted Namjoon’s stomach into little knots, his balls drawing up as his cock twitched. 

Jungkook laid back and bucked his hips, his eyelids fluttering shut when his bulge rubbed over Namjoon’s thigh. 

“Get these clothes off before I rip them off,” Namjoon huffed. He rose and stripped out of his own clothing quickly, his hands shaking as he fought with his belt. Jungkook stripped far more slowly, taking his time to peel his clothing off. Namjoon knew it was on purpose – and it was working – each inch of skin the handsome man revealed had his brain that much closer to short circuiting. 

When Jungkook was naked, he got up from the bed and then sank to his knees in front of Namjoon, reaching up to pull his boxers down. Namjoon’s vision blurred a little as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Jungkook’s breath was hot against the sensitive skin of his shaft. He grinned up at him. 

“Want me to suck your cock, sir?” He purred. Namjoon may have forgotten how to swallow.

His throat clicked and he nodded, not trusting his voice. 

Jungkook laughed a little. He stroked Namjoon gently a few times before wrapping his lips around his tip. His mouth was warm and soft. It sent all sorts of tingles through Namjoon’s body. 

“Oh, Jungkook…” He sighed softly, letting his hand rest lightly on Jungkook’s head. His hair was silky smooth, and Namjoon couldn’t resist running his fingers through it. Jungkook rolled his eyes up, meeting Namjoon’s gaze as he moved forward, taking more of his cock into his mouth. He sucked almost cautiously, huffing a quiet laughing sound through his nose when Namjoon shivered. Another suck, a little harder, and his tongue slid flatly over the underside of the tip. 

“Your mouth,” Namjoon groaned, reaching back to steady himself with the nightstand. 

Jungkook pulled off with a pop. 

“Maybe you should sit.”

“Maybe I should just fuck you,” Namjoon suggested instead, pulling Jungkook up and kissing him deeply. He reached around, squeezing his ass before spreading it, and letting his finger slide over Jungkook’s tight hole.

Jungkook giggled against his mouth, breaking the kiss and blinking at him with almost an innocence. 

“You want to fuck me bad, huh?” He purred, sliding his hands over Namjoon’s chest. Namjoon nodded. Jungkook crawled onto the bed. “Do you have lube? I can give you a show...” He spread his legs open and slid his hands down his inner thighs.

“You know... Next time.” 

Namjoon grabbed Jungkook’s ankles and twisted his legs over one another. Jungkook got the picture and flipped onto his belly. Namjoon lifted his hips as he crawled onto the bed, spreading his ass open.

Jungkook was shaved smooth and clean around his hole, the skin looking delectably soft.

Namjoon thumbed his hole. “God, you’re gonna be so tight on my dick...”

“I like it tight,” Jungkook panted against the pillow. “I like the stretch.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Namjoon held his ass open and spat. He leaned down, catching the spit with his tongue and lapping wetly over Jungkook’s hole. He tasted like fresh soap and something distinctly him. Namjoon could get addicted. 

He immediately began to work his tongue against the tight rim, pausing to lick wet stripes over his ass and balls, massaging his rim with his fingers until it finally began to relax. He picked up a rhythm and pattern with his tongue and fingers, starting to slip more easily into Jungkook’s hole. Namjoon pulled back, scissoring his fingers. Jungkook was gripping the pillow moaning and gasping into it. His hips were raised just enough for the tip of his cock to bump the bed when he moved. A dark streak of precome told Namjoon his sweet new bed mate was trying desperately to hump the bed. 

Endearing, really. Namjoon lifted Jungkook’s hips higher, removing the stimulation against his ruddy, hard cock tip. 

Jungkook whimpered, looking back. His cheeks were pink, sweat dotting his forehead and plastering a few strands of hair down.

“Please—“ 

Namjoon reached between his legs, giving his cock a few firm tugs. As he did, he drove his tongue back up Jungkook’s ass, smirking as the inner muscle reluctantly gave way.

Jungkook grunted into the pillow, jerking forward. 

“Please!” He sobbed, his voice muffled. Perfect.

Namjoon rose and laid over Jungkook, letting his cock nestle between Jungkook’s perky ass cheeks. He kissed over his shoulder as he reached out for the lube, tucked into his top drawer.

“I bet I could make you squirt from eating you out,” he whispered. Maybe I should have you ride my face. Come all over yourself with just my tongue up your tight little ass.”

Jungkook sobbed brokenly.

“No, please—“ He gasped. “Need your cock, sir, please.”

“I know you do, Jungkookie. Just relax. I’ll give it to you.”

Namjoon kissed his cheek and rose back on his knees. He added lube to Jungkook’s hole, and then his own cock. He lined his tip up, taking a moment to appreciate the scene. His babysitter - a young man he’d just met... So fucking handsome. So fucking eager to take his dick. He was definitely making the most of this.

Jungkook screamed into the pillow when Namjoon slid his cock in, stretching him open. He was impossibly tight, even with preparation. Jungkook reached back, holding his ass open. Namjoon took advantage, working more of his cock in. He could see the stretch of Jungkook’s rim, and the way his fingers bit into his plump ass cheeks. His cock was girthy all the way down as he pushed it into Jungkook, rock solid and throbbing against Jungkook’s sensitive rim. 

“That’s it,” Jungkook gasped, turning his head so he could be heard. “Fuck my ass, sir. Pound the babysitter’s tight little hole—“ He cried out when Namjoon slammed in, burying himself to the hilt. He took a moment to let Jungkook relax around him - or maybe a moment to relax his own body, Namjoon wasn’t sure, before beginning to fuck into him. 

Jungkook rose to his knees, wrapping his arms back around Namjoon’s shoulders as he moaned. His hard cock bounced with each thrust, dribbling precome onto the sheets.

“Fuck me,” he whined softly in Namjoon’s ear. “Wreck my tight little hole. I know you need it, you’re so hard in me. Oh—“ He let his head fall back when Namjoon’s teeth found purchase on his shoulder, a firm bite.

“Gonna mark me up?” He purred into Namjoon’s ear. “I came here for a simple job, and you’re violating my body in every way.”

Namjoon’s cock throbbed in his ass, and Jungkook smirked against his jaw. “You like that. You gonna come in me too? Fill me up? I bet there’s a lot - You’re so pent up, sir.” 

Jungkook moaned in his ear. Namjoon’s speed increased. “Yes—“ he whined. “Fuck me and fill me up, send me home all full of you, please—“ he sobbed brokenly. Namjoon pulled out suddenly, and Jungkook’s hole gaped, flexing around nothing. 

He cried out when Namjoon flipped him onto his back. Their gazes met for a moment and Namjoon smirked. He put Jungkook’s legs over his shoulders and lifted his hips, pulling his ass open.

Namjoon spat directly onto the tiny gape, watching as it dribbled into Jungkook’s ass. Jungkook whined softly. “Please—“

Namjoon obliged, lining his cock up and pushing back in. He laid over Jungkook, folding him up as he began to fuck him once more.

The new angle felt more intense, and the eye contact Namjoon now held seemed so much more intimate. Jungkook’s cheeks were a delightful pink, and growing redder. He moaned sweetly, reaching up to hold onto Namjoon’s shoulders.

“So quiet now,” Namjoon teased, his strokes long and deep, making Jungkook’s toes curl against his thighs as his cock slid over his prostate again and again. “Where’s that dirty mouth?”

“D— Do you like it when I talk dirty?” Jungkook panted. 

Namjoon leaned down, kissing over his ear. “You were driving me wild, Jungkook,” he growled. “Do you still want my load, baby? Want me to send you home with an ass full of my come?” 

Jungkook moaned, his fingers biting into Namjoon’s shoulders. 

“Yes! Yes, please, sir— Give it to me—“ Jungkook’s eyes rolled back. “I’m so close—“

“Come then. Come from me wrecking your pretty little hole,” Namjoon demanded. He shifted, picking up speed and aggression with each thrust. 

Jungkook clawed streaks down Namjoon’s back, slamming his head back into the pillow. The pleasure pain of it was nearly too much, but Namjoon struggled to hold on. Jungkook’s cock began to spurt onto his stomach, ass clenching around Namjoon’s cock as he came, choking out Namjoon’s name.

“That’s it.” Namjoon’s voice was smoky and thick, doing his best to drag Jungkook’s orgasm out. “Squeeze my cock, baby. Lemme know how good you’re squirting for me.” He groaned softly. “Such a tight little butt— Fuck— I’m not pulling out—“ he warned.

“Don’t!” Jungkook pleaded. He reached down, grabbing Namjoon’s hips. “Come deep— Oh fuck please, come up my ass, Namjoon, please— Deeper— Oh God!” 

Namjoon swore softly. He buried himself to the hilt, and began to thrust shallowly as his body lit up, sparks of pleasure igniting his nerves. His cock began to jerk as he fucked into Jungkook’s relaxing body. Each twitch was hard and rhythmic as he came, spilling deep inside Jungkook. Jungkook began to clench and relax his rim, trying to milk as much from Namjoon’s cock as he could, even as Namjoon began to soften inside him.

Jungkook let his legs fall open, reaching up to wipe sweat from his brow. He smiled sleepily. “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” Namjoon mumbled. He pulled out slowly, flopping onto the bed beside Jungkook. “You okay?”

“Mhm… Relaxed.” 

Namjoon grabbed a tissue, carefully wiping Jungkook’s stomach, and then sitting up to clean the lube and mess left behind from their sex. 

Jungkook smiled and nodded his thanks before sighing far more heavily. He opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. 

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon worried, lying next to him once more.

“I should go home.”

“Oh…” Namjoon hesitated. “Or, I mean… It’s late. You could just stay the night.”

Jungkook looked over, his brows furrowed and mouth in a soft pout. “You… Would want me to?”

“Well, I’m not kicking you out after we just made love. If you don’t wanna go…”

“What about Mingi?”

“Well, if she asks, where else would I have you sleep? You’re too big for the couch comfortably. And you couldn’t very well sleep in her room. And I wouldn’t want you driving late at night…”

Jungkook smiled softly. 

“Aw, Mr. Kim… Sounds like you’re almost fond of me. This wasn’t just sex?”

Namjoon’s smile wavered. Jungkook – though teasing – did bring up a good point. Jungkook seemed to notice his shift, because he moved just enough to kiss Namjoon hard. 

“If it was, I’m okay with that. But if it wasn’t… I think I’d be okay with that too,” he said softly. Instead of letting Namjoon answer, he kissed him once more, cupping his cheek.

Namjoon reached up, holding his wrist. He pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I didn’t give much thought about it, honestly. You are so young, have a whole bright future. I’m already established… I have a kid. I’m not an easy person to have a relationship with, especially not someone in your shoes.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.” Jungkook laid back down. “But let’s not talk about it tonight. We had amazing sex. I’m all loose and relaxed, and I am tired. Why don’t we get some sleep, and we can talk about it tomorrow, when we’re both fully rested and more aware.”

Namjoon nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” He kicked the blankets down and pulled them over them. Jungkook snuggled up to him, resting his head on his shoulder and slinging one arm across Namjoon’s middle. His body was warm and soft. It was so… Comforting, if Namjoon was being honest. He could get quite used to something like this, he thought as he wiggled a little closer to Jungkook. If Jungkook did want to date him… He could definitely get used to this.

Namjoon could faintly hear the television. It sounded like a children’s program. Mingi was probably up. He snuggled deeper under his blankets, Jungkook’s warm body still wrapped around him. The morning sunlight was streaming through his window, lightening his eyelids. Heaving a weak sigh, he opened his eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the light before looking over at Jungkook. He was just as beautiful in the daylight. His hair mussed from the pillow, soft lips parted as he slept, chest rising slow and steady. Namjoon’s heart clenched uncomfortably. He wanted Jungkook. As far more than a babysitter, or fuckbuddy, or friend. He truly wanted him. They’d need to talk today.

Namjoon frowned at the door, hearing what sounded like Mingi having a conversation with someone. He wasn’t expecting anyone today… And Mingi knew not to open the door for strangers. Before Namjoon could stand, his bedroom door creaked open. 

Namjoon sat up a little, expecting his daughter. Instead, Yoongi stood in the doorway, a cup holder of coffee gripped in his hands. Hoseok stood behind him, a cardboard box. Namjoon’s eyes widened. He saw Yoongi and Hoseok both move their gaze from him, to Jungkook, and back to him. 

“What the fuck,” Hoseok strained. 

Jungkook sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “What’s – Oh…” He smiled sheepishly when he realized the company in the bedroom. “Morning, Hyung...”

Namjoon cleared his throat. “What brings you here this morning?” 

“Bora...” Yoongi drifted off. “She told me you two didn’t work out. We came to... Can we speak to you outside for a second, Namjoon?” 

It was Namjoon’s turn to smile sheepishly. “Sure. Wait for me? We need, ah...” he motioned to their pants and shirts strewn on the floor.

Hoseok and Yoongi backed out, shutting the door. 

Jungkook grimaced. “I feel like I’m about to get scolded by a parent.”

“Same,” Namjoon admitted. He rose, pulling on a pair of sweats and a shirt. “Do you wanna wear yesterday’s clothes? Something of mine might fit you...”

“I should wear yesterday’s.”

Namjoon nodded. He watched Jungkook rise, unable to hide the small smile that curved his mouth up. 

“You’re so handsome.” 

Jungkook grinned brightly, pulling on his clothes. “You’re just saying that.”

“Am not. Really, Jungkook... I like you.”

“I like you too, Namjoon.” 

“We should talk. About that.” 

Jungkook nodded. “I agree. After we talk to them,” he chuckled a little. He approached Namjoon, touching his upper arm. “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d like that.” 

Jungkook closed the space between their mouths, giving Namjoon a chaste peck on the mouth. He pulled back, smiling. 

Namjoon opened the door. Hoseok and Yoongi both rose from the couch. 

“Jungkook, would you mind Mingi?” Hoseok asked. Jungkook nodded. He sat next to her, immediately drawing her bubbly attention. 

Yoongi motioned with his head, and Namjoon followed the couple outside.

“What the fuck, Namjoon,” Hoseok said as soon as the door was shut. 

“Why are you swearing at me?”

“I sent you a babysitter, not a fucking hooker.”

“Hey!” Namjoon snapped. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What about the date, Namjoon?”

Yoongi asked. “Why didn’t Bora work out? It wasn’t him...”

“No!” Namjoon shook his head. “Not at all. She’s great. I really enjoyed her company. But she’s not... For me. It has nothing to do with Jungkook.” 

“I find that hard to believe since he was naked in your damn bed this morning,” Hoseok argued, crossing his arms. 

“He’s not a child, Hobi,” Namjoon argued. “You act like I forced him.”

“You were his employer last night, Namjoon,” Yoongi said.

“He made the first move! I reciprocated! I like him, hyung.”

“He’s one of my best students.”

“And if he were to date another student? Would you throw a fit?” Namjoon sighed, letting his arms fall. “I really do like him. The sex was great but... He is so good with Mingi. She adores him. And I find him so easy to talk to. I want to try with him.”

“Hobi...” Yoongi said softly. He glanced over at Hoseok. 

“He made the first move?” Hoseok clarified. Namjoon nodded, smiling a little.

“He’s quite brazen. I couldn’t say no.” 

“Little brat’s gonna be cleaning the dance studio for a week,” Hoseok muttered without much venom. 

Namjoon grinned at that. “Don’t be too hard on him; he’ll probably be sore for a few days.” 

Hoseok blinked, then blinked again, before realization dawned on him. He made a noise that was a cross between a groan and a scream, and gave a dramatic full body shudder. 

“That is my student, Kim Namjoon.”

“And hopefully my boyfriend... if I play my cards right.” 

“I do hope it works out,” Yoongi said. “For what it’s worth. You two did look pretty cute together.” 

“You should see him with Mingi, hyung. They’re already two peas in a pod.”

“I saw the video he sent Hoseok. They do seem to get along great.”

Namjoon’s smile grew almost painfully wide. “That made my whole night.”

“Come on, we should get in. We got you coffee, but didn’t expect a fourth...”

“I’m sure we’ll make due.” 

Namjoon entered, smiling softly. Jungkook was folded up on the floor, coloring with Mingi in one of her books. She was babbling on about something, and Jungkook continued to nod and respond appropriately.

“Mingi, come get food,” Yoongi called.

She bounced up, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and tugging him toward the kitchen. Jungkook let himself be pulled, backtracking to Namjoon as Yoongi served Mingi. 

“Get in too much trouble?” He worried.

“No. But even if I had... It’d be worth it,” Namjoon confessed. He reached up, brushing a lock of hair from Jungkook’s forehead. “What’re you doing tonight?” 

“Just studying.” 

“Have enough free time to slip in a dinner date?”

Jungkook grinned. He stepped a little closer to Namjoon, setting his hands on his hips. “I think I could pull myself away for a few hours.” He pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon grinned against his mouth, chuckling a little. He pulled back still smiling.

“You know what this means?” He walked to the table, grabbing the coffee Yoongi held out for him. 

“What?” Jungkook asked. 

“I’ll need to find a new babysitter.”

#thebtswritersclub #namkook #namjoon x jungkook #jungkook x namjoon #fluff #smut #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #jungkook x rm #rm x jungkook #mywriting #dilf namjoon

[atsvmi-x]

my personal characterization of eren bc i’ve been thinking about him a lot🥰 this is all modern!au bc canon literally never happened.

these aren’t x reader headcanons but i have more than enough thoughts about eren in a relationship to provide those soon!

General

Loud, brash, and loyal to a fault - you either love him or hate him (or if you’re Jean, you both love and hate him)

Those that he allows into his inner circle are friends for life. He’s easy to piss off but he’s quick to forgive when it comes to friends and family. If that doesn’t apply to you, or you cross those closest to him, he’ll hold a grudge long after the issue is resolved. You’re on his shit list for life.

He wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s literally impossible for him to conceal his emotions. If he’s angry, sad, annoyed, happy, literally anything his feeling you will be sure to know.

The same goes for his opinions. Blunt beyond belief. If he thinks something is stupid he won’t hesitate to say so. He’ll backtrack to soften his delivery if he notices that it offends other parties though.

All of these factors can lead to awkward moments. 99% of the time he’s confident enough in his stance to ignore how others might receive him but the other 1% of the time you might catch the rare sight of his cheeks heating up.

Contrary to popular belief, Eren is actually smart. Not to the same caliber of Armin, Erwin or Hange when it comes to critical thinking and analysis, but it is still above average. That being said, he doesn’t necessarily apply himself to subjects that don’t immediately interest him. However, he has impeccable game sense, making him quite the accomplished athlete.

Anger issues. Clearly. It made him a difficult child... for most of his life (and probably the reason he’s an only child) but as he’s gotten older he’s learned to manage his temper. It’s still easy to rile him up though, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before he backs down from a challenge. But for the most part his attitude is a running joke between those he’s closest with.

He has a strong moral compass and sense of justice. Not in the sense that he’s conservative, far from it. His personal ideology is: as long as it’s not hurting anyone people should do what they want. and anyone that messes with that is wrong. He’s a simple guy

Bad at flirting. He can be super oblivious and when he does catch on, he’s not smooth at all. But he’s tall and pretty so it comes off as endearing 99% of the time. It’s his boy-ish charms that save him every time.

Childhood

Cute as a button as a baby. Poor Carla and Grisha were blindsided when he hit his terrible twos.

Had no friends besides Armin until middle school when his parents adopted Mikasa.

Before Mikasa, he and Armin were the black sheep of the neighborhood kids. Eren easily alienated himself from the neighborhood kids and his schoolmates due to his brash nature. Looking back on it, he still stands with his decision since it meant he found his first friend.

(Armin didn’t fit in for his old soul thanks to being raised by his grandparents)

Super curious and didn’t realize how small he was in such a big world. On several occasions he wandered off because of his curious nature. Would have been a leash kid if leash kids were a thing when he was growing up.

Could technically be considered a school bully for talking down to kids on the playground. HOWEVER, he was smaller than other kids for a while, meaning his haughty attitude resulted in petty school yard fights that he lost most of the time. Still, he never cried and never learned his lesson.

Since we was never against a fight, he made it his mission to take up for Armin. When Mikasa joined his family he did the same for her when their peers made comments about her different looks. As we know, those roles soon reversed with Mikasa taking on a protector roll

To try and find a suitable outlet for his excess...energy...Carla and Grisha signed him up for every sport under the sun. Was pretty good too but excelled at football and track and field.

Teen

Was on a first name basis with administration during his school years for getting too invested in classroom debates. His fired up nature easily boiled over outside the classroom resulting in several fist fights

Got suspended once for said fights, but more often than not Mikasa saved him before he could get into more trouble.

So angsty. Literally a textbook case of teen angst from the loud music, dark clothes, to butting his heads with his parents he was truly a nightmare. (He recognizes this and is forever apologetic to his parents for being so difficult during this time)

Started to grow out of his rebellious phase by his junior year. There was no real explanation for it he just...did. That’s not to say that he was any less combative, he just knew what battles to pick. Good job Eren.

By the time he graduates he’s such a mama’s boy. He’s always loved him mom but now his eyes have been opened to how much of a handful he was growing up. He’s embarrassed anytime she brings up old stories but he knows it’s all in good fun.

He’s also had a major growth spurt by the time he graduates and his years of playing sports have definitely paid off. He’s a total heartthrob by his senior year and unintentionally a heartbreaker. Again, it’s hard to break into his circle, nothing personal.

Young Adult (College/Post Grad)

Commits to playing football exclusively. Not out of hopes of going pro but he just really likes the sport. He’s well known around campus between sports and his personality.

Still, he can be found with any one member of his crew at any given time. It’s rare to find him by himself unless he’s in his dorm room. He’s a total extrovert and gets bored easily when left to his own devices.

BUT he’s not a total party animal. Definitely prefers kickbacks to partying. But he will show his face if someone personally asks him to come.

Smokes and drinks the normal amount. Knows his limits and isn’t a lightweight for either. But under the right conditions (i.e. drinking games, bets, etc.) he’ll over indulge. Far too touchy when he’s under the influence.

Struggled to find his “calling” in school. Most of his friends fell into majors that they clicked with but it wasn’t that easy for him. He probably ends up with a fifth year under his belt. since he didn’t officially declare a major until maybe junior year.

Graduates with a political science degree! 1) He fooled his parents into thinking he’d go to law school which satisfied his doctor dad. 2) While he doesn’t exactly know how, he wants to improve daily life for the less fortunate and he thought this was a good step to do that. 3) He loved being able to argue for a grade during in-class debates

I know we all love streamer!Eren but I really do think he’d end up going down a creative/independent route where he’s not tied to a desk 9-to-5. It really stressed him out to think about doing thing for 50 years and then being able to enjoy life after retirement.

Other

Like previously mentioned, his music tastes were pretty narrow. But as his social circle grew and he was exposed to new genres his musical pallet has expanded. His go to genres are still heavy, but he’s not against asking what song just played if he liked it (unless you’re Jean, he’ll never give him the satisfaction).

I feel like his celebrity crush is Doja Cat. I have no evidence I just feel like he’d be into her.

Baby can NOT dance. if he tries hard he can bust a two step but usually he doesn’t usually put forth the effort though. It just gets worse if he drinks.

Very much a night owl but surprisingly, he doesn’t like to sleep in either. Feels like there’s too much stuff to do in a day to just waste it in bed. He contradicts himself though bc he can spend all morning in bed playing around on his phone (he’s addicted)

#could you tell that i love him? #eren #eren jeager #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren jeager scenarios #eren jeager headcanons #eren yeager scenarios #eren yeager headcanons #aot x reader #aot scenarios #aot headcanons #my writing

[st-louis]

nick suzuki on habs tonight

transcribed notes if you don’t want to listen to it.

only off the ice for two and a half weeks after the stanley cup finals, he was just itching to get back out there, pretty much everyone was in mid summer training so he felt like he had to get out there pretty fast

he feels good, he has a good physio guy in london he sees every week. it’s been tough; his program’s way behind everyone

lifting’s been good, skating’s been great, no complaints by him

it’s always nice to have a short summer because you did well the previous season, like in junior going to the mem cup

when he was in minor midget a few ncaa teams had reached out, a yale scout was interested in nick and nick’s dad was REALLY fired up about it because it was yale

but junior was the path for him since he was young, especially growing up watching the london knights. he was interested in college but at the end of the day knew he wanted to go to the O

he was always really close with ryan

growing up in london it’s a huge hockey city, he had a lot of great guys to look up to. they always played road hockey, ministicks, both their junior knights teams were really really good, so they had a lot of success there. it was great growing up together, always a ton of hockey opportunities.

his second-year stats were crazy. coming into his draft year, he was rated a b prospect at the start of the season, but he felt he could prove himself.

they went to the finals but lost to a very loaded otters team.

the draft year was stressful because he was always trying to have his best game every night, and meeting with the teams, but he felt he handled it well mentally.

he went to the top prospects game and that was a “see where you are” moment for him, but he had a good playoffs that year too and felt good going into the draft. once the combine came around he had really good meetings with a lot of teams and felt he was going to go in the first round after that.

he met with 28 out of 31 teams at the combine.

he met with montreal at the combine and he must have met with them at the season at some point. when he got traded, "berg” said he had nick higher on the board than where he went.

he felt like he handled the combine well, he never had crazy meetings, but the weirdest one was new jersey. they had like no one in the room because everyone knew who they were going to pick, so nick just met with the mental coach and it was all mental questions, nothing to do with his play.

anaheim and nashville didn’t have a pick until the third round so they were just shooting the shit with him.

the one team asked “what pick do we need to trade up to get you” and nick was like “i don’t know what you want me to say?”

getting drafted by vegas was incredible because it was such a new franchise. it was really cool to meet branny and glass (none of them left with vegas) at the draft as well, and it was a good city to get drafted in, he had a ton of fun.

the fleury brothers will be studs for seattle.

two days after the draft he was in dev camp, practice rink wasn’t built, game rink wasn’t built, he was at like a curling ice rink but it was fun anyway, getting to see the city. none of them had been there. it was a good experience.

he was thankful they picked him because it meant he ended up in montreal.

he felt he was playing well at dev camp but you could tell that they weren’t going to bring the young guys in.

he went back to junior and had an incredible season, but he thought maybe he would have a shot that year but then they made the stanley cup final and he was like “maybe i’m NOT good enough for that team”

after getting traded for pacioretty to montreal, his thought process was: the story was, he was at rookie camp and they’d just played san jose and was in the gym doing the cooldown after camp and the player development guy came up to him and the gm wanted to talk to him. so he felt he was either bad at the game, or getting traded, so his mind was really racing, what team was he going to. he hadn’t heard anything from social media or his agent but he ended up being told he was going to montreal and it took him a day to settle down and get excited about the opportunity. his parents were in vegas at the time, and that helped he had family in town for that.

his family weren’t the biggest leaf fans, it was easy to switch to montreal. no one was heartbroken. but being an ontario guy they’re always on tv there, so it had been easy to watch them.

just the opportunity to work all season and get to the playoffs you want to get to that ultimate goal, when he was in guelph and they were down 3-0 to london, they were like, oh god, we’re a great team, and their head coach said to nick and ratty, both from london, “you guys don’t want to end your junior career losing to the knights” and they won four straight and then just went to the cup. he was just really locked in.

the bubble was just about showing they could play with everyone. they didn’t feel they were a shit team coming into the bubble, even though a lot of people wrote them off right away, just like they did with the leafs. 

he loves the sportsnet list saying like “leafs in four” that gives him a lot of motivation personally.

he felt that his 2019 camp he was just ready to play against big defensemen and some of the better players, trying to earn any spot he could, whether on the wing at center. did everything he could to try to make that team.

nate thompson was awesome, especially for him, getting to play with him for 20 games or so. to learn off of, unbelievable guy and very welcoming to nick right away. thompson, domes, and “philly danault.” a lot of guys to look up to his first year.

phil is a very smart player, always on the right side of the puck, his stick positioning, he can tip every pass. any piece of his body or stick on the puck during the pk helps so much, always in the right spot. underrated offensively, sees the ice really well and makes all the plays. a great guy to learn off of and definitely a friend he’ll keep in touch with for sure.

they’ve all talked about how young they are (the center corps) but they’re confident in themselves and not going to back down from older centers. “jake will lead the way, our veteran presence out there.”

all the young guys love being around each other, eat dinner together, or go down at the same time for breakfast on the road, trying to hang out as much as possible and help each other out. they have a great group.

cole was a big boost, a hilarious kid, a ton of fun to be around, even better hockey player. great addition to the core.

the 2 on 0 in toronto he was just racing to make it a two on 0 but sometimes that’s harder than a breakaway, and nick was on a onetimer and it would’ve been harder for cole to shoot, but maybe campbell thought cole was gonna rip it. he knew right away that cole’s playmaking ability was underrated.

cole’s first practice with the team everyone was just watching cole, “for how big he is you don’t expect that to come off his stick”

the grind of not being able to do anything was tough, but this season was harder on the body and mentally, getting uber eats all of the time, because you don’t get to experience anything and playing in the north division was hard. ton of good teams, lot of good players, had to be on the ball every single night and when you weren’t you got exposed.

the week off for the covid break and the compressed schedule after was really hard.

it was hard dominating at first and then getting put in their place. it was a very up and down season. “sometimes we just had a stinker and be down and lose a few games in a row... that was tough mentally but you knew you were just going to play every other day, so it was like a three month play off run for us.”

dom is great. he was nick’s head coach at the world junior team that “cut me, actually, we talked about that actually”

dom just brought a different mentality of things to focus on. little things that go a long way, really bought a new look to their game

luke richardson did a great job, the d corps especially were happy for him, and he was running the forward lines which was a little new for him, but he did a good job stepping in, as good as he could ahve done

thoughts on toronto: won the first game and riding high, then lost in toronto and then lost two games at home, which is never a good thing. but they had a little time, the older guys spoke up that you don’t get this opportunity every year. some of them are getting up there in age and don’t know how long they will play, so the team needed to step up and play better to keep their season alive. they let them all the way back in on game five, and it was tense, not gonna lie in the room before the OT. no one said ANYTHING. and then all of a sudden nick and cole got the 2 on 0 a minute in and sending it back. and then all of a sudden a ton of energy came in the group and it was a lot of fun.

after getting fans back he didn’t realize HOW he played without them. it was the fastest he’s ever skated. he was just buzzing the whole warm up.

it was a big adjustment going to vegas with their full and very loud barn. you forget how it is; montreal would have been louder with a full barn, but the vegas stereo system and fans you “vibrate on the bench”--intimidating at first, then “we were playing really well, so we settled down”

he really wants to experience playoffs at the bell center

the vegas series: like, “i just came off the ice, i was gassed, bent over on the bench and all of a sudden everyone’s cheering. when i came off we didn’t have the puck, i had no idea what happened, andy puts it in the net and it’s just a freebie especially with the fans chanting at fleury--all that stuff was crazy.”

if there’s someone you’re chirping about not scoring on you, cole’s probably not the guy. he was dialed in. he asked nick if he’d heard what lehner said and nick said, “don’t worry, we’ll find a way to get you that goal.”

we played winnipeg really well throughout the regular season and then they sucked against them, but for the playoffs, the first game they came out flying--he knew they had the week off and that was tough, but they dominated the whole time. with the scheifele thing, it sucked for them but sometimes you have to play without your best players in the playoffs.

they were pretty pissed off about the hit. by that time, that was probably their best stretch of the year.

he doesn’t understand rankings of goaltenders and price is outside of the top ten: “what is going on? i don’t know what people are thinking. this guy does it every single year and you still rip on him ... he’s making big saves every game but maybe people just expect him to stop everything...?”

webby’s four minute minor: it was definitely pretty nervewracking, we could lose the stanley cup on home ice and our captain’s in the box, an unfortunate play that happened. we were really dialed in in the dressing room after the third. i was out on the pk and i just wanted to like do anything i could to kill off that penalty. luckily we did and got the big game winner later. it was a big kill, everyone wanted to do that for webby. we didn’t want it to end our series.

they had a lot of good chances in that OT but pricey really shut the door. nick said he messed up on one of those coverages but pricey really bailed them out.

he is hungrier to get back there now. “experiencing losing the finals, you can see all of us on a knee, i could hardly watch them celebrate on the ice. just seeing some of the older guys, a lot of those guys have never made it that far, and for me to experience it as a young guy just makes me want to get back there as quick as possible. even after the game, i just got undressed and snuck out onto the bench to watch them carry around the cup just to give myself a little motivation to get back in the summer.”

such a great group of guys wouldn’t rather have anyone else on that team.

what he’s learned from shea weber: he’s been an amazing guy to learn from and get to know. he’s just pretty much the ultimate teammate and someone i’ve looked up to every since i got to the team. to get to see him every day, how hard he works, how he interacts with the trainers, coaches, literally everyone in the organization. he’s just a first class guy. definitely the best captain for sure.

about kk: he found out on the golf course with his brother, parents, and grandparents. evvy (evans?) texted him and said to look at twitter. offer sheets are part of the business, every rfa is up for grabs in that way. it’s a great deal for him and his family, a lot of money, and hopefully the habs can work out a way, because i know the players, we don’t want to lose kk and i’m sure management doesn’t want to either. hopefully we can find out a way to get him back on the team.

drou is awesome and nick’s seatmate on the plane. they play cards together. they were texting the other day, he’s doing a lot better and excited to come to camp. nick is really hoping he can get back there. he said he’s feeling really good and skating a lot and andy is living together.

his favorite players growing up--he loved datsyuk growing up, one of his first nhl games was in detroit watching him. he also loves bergeron and getting to play against him is a ton of fun, getting to see how he is on the ice in person. he was a big sidney crosby guy because he does everything the right way and playing against him in the playoffs was cool too. those are the big three.

he loves montreal, ever since he got there it’s been a second home to him. the restaurants, the people, just walking downtown, hey big fan, all that stuff, you can see the passion the fans have for the players and the team. a ton of fun playing there and just starting to experience what it’s like getting back to normal. his first year was a ton of fun with the crowds, he wants that next year too.

in the gym, he trains with boone jenner, jordan kyrou, ryan, dylan cozens. on the ice bo horvat is usually with them but he’s been training at home. on the ice, bo, drew doughty, corey perry (pears), logan couture, all at london, they try to skate together as much as possible.

bergevin made a lot of good additions; lost some good players but added great talent too. hoffman should be fun to play with. savard was really tough to play against in the playoffs so it will be nice to have him on the team. he’s excited. don’t really know all the lines and stuff for you guys, but i’m sure we’ll have something soon.

trevor litowski is a great guy and he’s worked with adam douglas before too.

when he was going through a dry spell, it felt like he was playing the games but not doing that much, he was all in his head, could hardly play hockey how he was before at the start of the season for some reason--having the confidence to go out there every night and know he could play with all these guys. he was reading the play and it would not turn out how he was reading it and it would bug him a bit. dom said he always tries to overthink the game and just has to go there and play. it’s tough for young guys. his confidence was low during that midpoint, but if you just find a goal, you can take off. that’s how he felt going into the last third of the season and into the playoffs. hopefully he can keep that for the regular season coming up.

he could feel the energy from the city, leaving and coming to the games it was a ton of fun with the fans there. he thinks they’ll have another great year, the future is really bright for the team, and he wants to be part of that for a long time. he’s really excited.

#nick suzuki #habs #14s #fave #ari listens to podcasts so you don't have to

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 8*

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

I know, I wait almost 4 days and now you gotta go through this bullshit. I can already hear your cries of anguish and suffering.

I love it so much. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

That being said I promise regular chapters for the rest of the week! Okay I don't promise but I promise to do my best.

Note: Alright it's a fanfic people, alternate universes and all that. So you know what we're saying that all the Carisi sisters are younger, and Sonny was the big bro. Kay? I can't deal with all the continuity stuff.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

------------------------

Sonny was watching TV with Amanda when his phone went off. He paused the movie and answered the phone:

“Barba it’s kinda late--”

“What's wrong with your cousin?” he flatly said.

“Excuse me?” Sonny asked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer the question, Carisi,” Barba insisted.

“Well it's a loaded question, Barba.” Sonny replied.

“Okay then just answer me this,” Barba sighed. “Why did I come back to my apartment to find her halfway through my once full bottle of vodka and pouting on the couch. Oh, after she had gone through all of my things of course,”

“Aw shit,” Sonny muttered under his breath. “That's kind of on me, Barba,”

“One second babe,” He muttered to Amanda, while he got up and went into his kitchen.

“Babe?” Barba asked.

“It’s just Rollins,” Sonny dismissed it.

“So you have feelings for me, but you’re fucking Rollins?” He asked in a snarky tone.

“What, are you jealous or somethin’ Barba?” Sonny smirked.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Rafael rolled his eyes. “Why is it on you?” He changed the subject.

“I should have never filled her head with doubts and suspicions and then sent her back to your place; when I should have known that you would keep a full bar in your apartment,” Sonny sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Well of course I would keep a stocked bar in my apartment Sonny, I entertain people and I'm a grown man,” Rafael scoffed.

“Yeah, again it's on me,” Sonny repeated.

“Okay so what is wrong with your cousin?” Rafael asked.

“I think that pretty much answers it, don't you think?” Sonny asked in a “duh” tone.

“... I see,” Rafael glanced at his bedroom door wearily.

“Where is she now? Did you send her away? Please tell me you didn't send her away,” Sonny begged.

“No I didn't send her away, she's sleeping it off in my bedroom,” He got up and walked to his bedroom door. “I didn't want to just kick her out because she was upset. I'm not that big of a dick,” He whispered as he watched you sleep. You looked so calm and peaceful, that’s the girl he remembered.

“ You know, this should probably be better explained in person,” Sonny walked back into his living room where Amanda glanced over at him. He motioned for her to get her stuff together.

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah okay, not like I have anything else to do,'' he rolled his eyes as he shut his bedroom door and walked back to his living room.

--------------.

Sonny showed up to Rafael's apartment with a loaded head and a semi heavy conscience. He knocked on the door and Rafael let him inside.

“Okay so what kind of long story is this,” Rafael asked while he poured himself a glass of scotch. He noticed Sonny giving him a weird look.

“What? It's not like she's in here now,” he rolled his eyes.

“True,” He nodded. “Do you have beer?”

“Yes, dark or light?” Rafael made a disgusted face while he asked. He couldn't stand the taste of beer but he always had it on him just in case he had barbarians over such as Sonny.

“Shiner Bock, if you have it,” Sonny requested. Rafael nodded as he went into his ‘party fridge’ and handed him one before sitting on the couch across from him.

“Alright so where do I start?” Sonny thought out loud.

“Well I guess first of all I wanted to say I don’t wanna say I told you so, but this is exactly why I didn't want you and Y/N to get involved in the first place. It had nothing to do with my feelings for you. It’s because I know that you tend to keep relationships with guys and girls chill and casual, but Y/N is a special case and special to me,”

“Yeah.. I wish you had expressed that before,” Rafael groaned.

Well what was I supposed to say in front of her, Barba? ‘Oh hey by the way, you probably shouldn't get involved with my trainwreck of a cousin? Sonny asked defensively.

“Maybe? I don’t know…” Rafael sighed as he put his head in his hands.

“Look, Rafael,” Sonny put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like she’s some kinda degenerate junkie,”

“Oh well, that’s great--” He started to roll his eyes.

“I’m serious Rafael!” He pounded the table.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry Sonny,” He finally used his first name, trying to be as soft with him as possible. He could see how much you meant to him, and it was really endearing. “Go ahead,”

“Alright,” Sonny sighed, ready to tell your life story. You would probably kill him later for it, but there was no hiding your...issues now, he might as well get the whole context.

“Well, first of all-- her dad died before she was born, overdose,” He began. “Then she was stuck with her junkie mother, my auntie. Who by the way at this point, nobody had heard from in years,” He took a sip of beer.

“So anyways,” He began again. “One day, she showed up at my mom’s doorstep with Y/N, and told her that she can’t take care of Y/N, or that she didn’t want to,” He sighed. “She was three years old by then, I don’t even wanna think about what happened before then,”

“Jesus…” Rafael muttered.

“I was eight years old at the time, my sisters were even younger. My mom and dad had enough on their plate with just us. So, I kinda took her under my wing,” He went on.

“We became so close, she wanted to go by “Sunny” just so she could be like me. I told her it would be confusing for the two of us, so I called her Sunshine, Sunny for short. That way if I’m calling her sunny, then obviously it’s not myself,” He chuckled. To this day, he still called you Sunshine.

“But as she grew up, she just...kinda had a rough go. She didn’t really interact with kids her own age, she was really defensive and untrusting with anybody but me. Not even my parents. And then we got the call that her mother died, and it ripped me up inside to see her body at the funeral. It was so fucked up, she was so fucked up. That’s why I-- I think something really bad happened to her when she was with her mother, Rafael. Like-- really, bad.

“Fuck..." Rafael muttered while glancing at his bedroom door. He didn't want to imagine what you had been through at such a young age. He wanted to run in his room right now and just hold you, but he kept his composure.

“So then I went off to college when she was ten years old, just about to start junior high. She begged me to stay, but I told her she had a good family and that my parents and sisters loved her as much as I did, and to stay out of trouble. But...kids are cruel. They made her harder, and harder. Without me there to be her-- I dunno, her guiding light or her-- protector, she just kinda fell into a bad crowd by the time high school rolled around,” He sighed while taking another swig of beer.

“...Right,” Rafael nodded.

“So when i came home from school my mom told me she was going to kick Sunny out. I asked her why, and she went on and on about how she had gotten in with these local girls who were like, I dunno some kinda girl gang, and they’d knock over liquor stores and then get drunk and stoned. She said she was never around anyway, unless it was to steal money out of her purse; And she just didn’t wanna deal with her anymore,”

“...But she was only fifteen at the time,” Rafael was stunned.

“Yeah, and that’s what I told her!” Sonny exclaimed. “Look Barba my mom is the salt of the earth, but like I said she had a lot on her plate and my dad wasn’t around a lot-- and she had three other daughters to watch out for,”

“Three of her OWN daughters,” Rafael clarified with a judgmental tone.

“HEY,” Sonny warned. “I know how it sounds. And maybe-- maybe you’re right, maybe that’s why she washed her hands clean of Sunny. Because she was just a by-product of her fucked up sister. But I-- I’m not gonna condemn her for it. And you sure as hell don’t get to judge her,”

“You’re right,” Rafael nodded while sipping his scotch.

“So I took Sunny in,” Sonny finished his beer as he wrapped up his story. “I took her in while I went through the police academy. I made sure she got sober, quit hangin’ out with those girls, I got her to do well in school, hell I got her to graduate high school!”

“And…?” Rafael pressed.

“...And when I started bouncing around precincts, she was finally a productive member of society so she started living on her own. She had a few jobs, but never really going anywhere. So once I got placed here in SVU and started making better money, I started helping her out with rent and her car, as long as she promised to start going to community college. Which she agreed to because she really does wanna make something of herself,” He half smiled thinking about how far you had come and how proud he was to call you his cousin now. You were so full of life with dreams and ambitions he never saw in you as a scared little kid.

“Okay so-- how does all of this lead to what happened tonight?” Rafael leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Because she’s still an addict, Barba!” Sonny tried not to yell, but didn’t understand why Rafael was still so flippant about you.

“Just because she got her life together-- I got her life together, doesn’t mean that she just got ‘better’. She’s on a daily see-saw of sobriety. I do weekly ‘drop ins’ just to check on her. It’s gotten a lot better as time goes on, and the less and less I worry about her, but--” He took a breath and looked at the floor.

“....Deep down she’s still that little girl with all of her walls and her distrust. She doesn’t have friends, I really don’t think she’s ever had a stable ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend,’ I mean she-- she doesn’t, talk to people,” He paused before looking up and into Rafael’s eyes.

“...Which is why it has been yankin' my chain tryin’ to figure out just why in God’s name she was so-- open, to you,” He finally admitted. “She’s never been that close to anybody else but me, not in her entire life,”

“Wait,” Rafael put a finger up. “So...you haven’t actually been jealous of Y/N this whole time, you’ve been jealous of me?” He half laughed.

“I mean, it’s a little of both,” He shrugged with a small smile, able to joke about his feelings now. “But I meant what I said when I first got here, I know the main thing that Y/N needs in her life right now is stability. And you-- you are not stable, in the least,”

“Oh I’m the unstable one?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Relationship wise, yeah,” Sonny pointed out.

“....Fair point,” Rafael nodded as he finished off his scotch. He knew the longest relationship he had ever had was with the cute barista he saw every morning who knew how to make his coffee just right. And that relationship only took him five minutes a day to maintain.

“So…” Sonny knocked Rafael from his thoughts.

“So...what?” Rafael quirked an eyebrow.

“So, I think that--” Sonny took a deep breath, knowing you might hate him for this. But it was for the best, and it needed to be said.

“I think that if you care anything about her, or me for that matter, that you let me take her home, and forget about this whole weekend,”

“....I mean…” Rafael rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't want to let you go. Well, he didn't want to let go of the girl he had met at Forlini's. The girl who made him laugh, who he could be his true self around, the girl he might---

“Look the bottom line here Barba is that Y/N is-- a lot of work. I should know, I’ve been taking care of her for 19 years. But I don’t mind it, because I love her more than anything else in this world. Well, her and the rest of my family. But still-- I love her,” Sonny now stood up.

“And I get that you like her, but she--- she has gotten way too serious about you way too fast, and way too hard. And this?” He gestured around the room, referring to the whole night. “This ain’t even the tip of the iceberg with her, if she’s really fallen off the wagon,”

“...God dammit,” Rafael stood up and began to pace in his living room. He thought about every single second he had spent with you since he met you; you had never seemed so...broken, as Sonny was describing you.

“What I’m saying is, unless you’re ready to-- ‘deal’ with her, and everything that comes with that, please for the love of God, just walk away now,” Sonny pleaded.

“Because she won’t listen to me if I tell her to stay away from you. And if things get too ‘real’ for you, you’re just gonna freak out or-- or get bored, and throw her away. Her self worth will drop to shit. And if that happens, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get her back from that,”

“I would never just throw her away, Carisi,” Rafael rolled his eyes.

“You can’t say that, Barba,” Sonny debated.

“And why the hell not?” Rafael narrowed his eyes.

“Because you’ve never NOT just ‘thrown away’ someone,” He chuckled. “That front door might as well be a garbage chute,”

“You son of a--” Rafael started to yell at him but Sonny cut him off.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Barba. Look me in the eyes and tell me I have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’ll leave here and let you deal with her the way you want to,” Sonny looked at him pensively. Rafael looked at him for several seconds, then softened his glare into a sad concession.

“....Take her,” He muttered softly while looking at the ground.

“Thank you,” Sonny mumbled softly as he turned to go retrieve your passed out self from the bedroom. However, he was instead met with the most unsettling sight:

You were standing in the doorway of the room, glaring at the two of them.

“...H-Hey, Sunshine--” Sonny tried to appease you with an awkward smile.

“Don’t,” You growled, stomping into the living room and began packing your bag.

“Y/N, what are you--” Rafael went to put a hand on your bag but you snatched it away before you shot fire out of your eyes into his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand what you just said?” You barked at him with tears in your eyes. “Because I’m pretty damn sure I heard ‘take her’. You know like I’m some sort of defective Amazon package,”

“That’s not what I meant---” He softly spoke, the guilt of his words being heard by you was quickly eating him alive.

“No I know what you meant, Rafael,” You zipped your duffel shut angrily.

“I heard the whole god damn spiel. Which, by the way, thank you so much for detailing my entire little sob story, cousin,” You glared at Sonny as you started walking towards the front door, shoulder checking him.

“But neither of you have to worry about anything anymore, okay? You’re released from your ‘duties’. This trainwreck is leaving the station, so you can relax,” You looked at the both of them with pain in your eyes, tears cracking your words.

“Sunshine--” Sonny started after you.

“DON’T,” You glared at him while putting a finger up. “Don’t ever call me that again,”

“At least let me drive you home--”

“No,” You shook your head. “And you know what, cuz? I didn’t realize I was such a financial burden, so you know what? Cut me off. Because I’d rather be homeless again than take any more money from you,”

“What did I do?!” Sonny was now angry. “All I did was come over and try to protect you, that’s it!”

“I don’t need your protection!” You screamed. “This whole time...this whole time, I thought you were proud of me. That you trusted me,”

“I do trust you--”

“You don’t!” You stomped your foot while tears streamed down your face. “Y-You think that if . one single thing like a boy not liking me is gonna set me off, like I’m some kind of bomb you’ve kept from detonating for years. My life is not your responsibility anymore, Sonny! I don’t think it ever was!”

“Well who’s else was it gonna be?!”

“NOBODY’S!!!!” You finally dropped your duffel bag and kicked the wall, leaning your head against it. You were strangely quiet for a long pause before you spoke again in an eerily calm voice.

“...Do you know why my mother “dropped me off’ with your mother?”

“Because she couldn’t take care of you--”

“No I heard what you said,” You sniffled with a sad smile. “Because she didn’t want to,”

“Sunshine--”

“But leaving me with your mother, was her plan b,” You cut him off, still looking at the floor.

“What do you mean?” Sonny asked cautiously while looking at Rafael who had a terrified look in his eyes.

“She didn’t want to ‘burden’ her sister with me, but she had to when I wouldn’t die,”

“...W-What?” Rafael almost choked on the words in disbelief.

“She tried to smother me with a pillow, but I wouldn’t die. I kept screaming and crying, and I guess it touched her strand of humanity, so she stopped,” You rolled your eyes with the same sad smile.

That memory was forever imprinted in your brain. The terror of being woken up in blackness, unable to breathe. The smell of the cigarette smoke covered pillow being shoved into your throat and nostrils. Your mother crying and telling you it would be over soon, just to let go. And finally her sad, pathetic whimpers and sobs when she finally lifted the pillow from you, disappointed in herself that she couldn’t do one good thing in her life. That now she was going to have to pass you, her problem, onto her sister.

“Y/N, baby girl--” Sonny stepped towards you again.

“I wasn’t supposed to be raised by anybody, Sonny. I’m not even supposed to be alive!” You stomped your foot again while tears continued to flow.

“That’s not true!” He ran over and grabbed you in a hug. “You are not a burden,”

“Really?” You laughed sarcastically into his shoulder as you pushed him away from the hug. “You just said your mom didn’t even want to deal with me. Nobody did,”

“I did!” He argued. “I do,”

“Yeah well, maybe I’m my mother’s daughter. I don’t wanna be your burden,” You picked up the duffel and opened the door.

“Okay well you have no choice in that so you’re gonna have to let that go,” Sonny grabbed your hand before you could walk away.

“Fine,” You finally conceded with a blank expression.

“Guess I’ll just have to let a lot of things go, won’t I?” Your voice cracked as you looked at Rafael one more time with the saddest eyes.

He stared back at you with a stone cold face. He wanted so badly just to go and hold you in his arms, telling you how you didn’t deserve any of what happened to you, and that you deserved everything good and all the love in the world. But Sonny’s pleas were still in his head.

He didn’t know if he wanted the responsibility of your entire self worth and happiness, let alone your sobriety on his shoulders. He didn’t even like to get close to clients with that many issues, the pressure was too much. So instead he just stood there, trying not to show how much this was killing him, sending you away like this.

“Come on Sunshine, just-- let’s go, okay?” Sonny pleaded with you softly, pulling at your hand. You didn’t answer, you just nodded and started walking down the hallway towards the elevator, leaving Sonny at the door.

“...Thank you, Barba,” He mumbled softly, nodding at Rafael. Rafael barely nodded back before Sonny closed the door.

As soon as it was closed, Rafael dropped on his knees and began to cry. He didn’t know why exactly, was he crying because he felt horrible for all the shit you had gone through? Was he angry at himself for not being able to get over his own bullshit to actually open up and care about someone for more than a week? Was he really that big of a hypocrite, showing empathy to clients all the time but shutting out the one person he felt he might-- he couldn’t even think it. He wouldn’t let himself think it. He just composed himself and poured another scotch while turning on the TV, trying to forget what just happened.

His NETFLIX menu popped up; it asked him if he wanted to continue watching Bojack Horseman. He closed his eyes and muttered obscenities in spanish while memories of the night before flooded his brain, making him cry angry tears once more. He finally decided just to go to bed, maybe his brain would release him from torture if he could turn it off.

He wasn’t sure he could ever turn it off now.

#rafael barba #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu fanfiction #svu fanfiction #sonny carisi #weird secret friends #rafael barba imagine

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ bed of spider webs﹫mark lee

this is part of “the spiderverse project” series !  friends - chase atlantic (nostalgia)

pairing: mark x reader (f) ft. johnny and jaehyun.

genre: angst, fluff, smut with too much plot, spiderman!mark, college!au, enemies to friends to lovers.

warnings: violence, mention of blood, language, stupid decisions, mention of drugs (johnny smokes weed in like one scene), spider bite, one short scene of attempted robbery, one short fight scene, trespassing, unprotected sex (be safe everyone), dirty talk, choking, fingering, oral, uses of spider webs during the sex scene, some praising and degradation, i think that’s it ? 

word count: 26k, this is the longest thing i’ve ever written. 

synopsis: where you hate Mark Lee because he’s everyone’s favourite, to both students and teachers. if there’s a number one, there’s a number two, and that’s you. however, after a strange event in a lab, his grades crush down, leaving the number one spot vacant for your very eyes, but as everyone’s favourite looks more and more miserable, you can’t help but worry about him, not knowing that he became the famous friendly neighbourhood superhero that saved you that one night.

a/n: this doesn’t take place in any particular city, don’t worry webs aren’t used for anything that kinky. also, this took so fucking long to write.

Miss Park likes to think that despite her age, she has a great memory. She finds pride in remembering most - if not all - of her student’s names, with a vague memory of their baby faces, if they were lucky enough. The now old lady also liked to think that she was a nice and soft kindergarten teacher, treating every student the same way, giving them the same amount of attention. 

After all, her class was the first of many other classes and grades, and she wanted it to be a great first experience for everyone. Retired, and only possessing pictures to refresh her memory from time to time, if there’s one student the wrinkly old lady was still fond of, no matter how many years after he had left her school, it was the only Mark Lee.

In her rocking chair, she didn’t even need a picture to remember dark locks, small bangs above his soft eyes, she didn’t need anyone to remember her first meeting with the now successful college student. The lady sometimes likes to tell stories from her working days and her favourite students always have an appearance in those stories. Those stories where her eyes become bright with what looks like small tears and adoration.

See, almost sixteen years ago, the teacher was doing her job pretty well. She had the experience, knew every solution to every problem, she was one of the oldest and most respected teachers of the area, really, she was at the pick of her career. She was working in a small and one of the only kindergartens of the city, a small, one floored building in a calm area, near a public parc.

After so many years giving her energy to prepare young kids to the world, she had seen a lot. From kids saying weird things they heard once, other kids drawing almost creepy imageries, to talented and well-behaved students, she saw it all. 

Most importantly, she saw a lot of what she calls “First Days”. First days of school where the mother leaves her child for the first time. She saw kids crying for their parents while they hesitated to walk back and leave, she saw kids waving to their parents with a smile while they were the one crying, she saw the loud and unstoppable crying of a child that doesn’t want to be here.

These days are all unforgettable and unique in their own way, but really, she would never forget Mark Lee’s first day. 

Winter had started pretty early, that September of two thousand and two, it was cold like it was the high of winter, just after all the new year celebrations. Every kid was more or less wrapped in a large coat, every time accessories with a matching beanie and scarf, even gloves sometimes. 

She remembers greeting every kid like always, offering her best smile for the best first impression, reassuring worried parents and comforting new kids. The teacher also remembers thinking that every kid had been a bit reluctant to leave their parent but none crying yet. And there he had arrived, three years old Mark Lee, looking like a miniature businessman.

To do such a job, you had to be fond of kids, but - oh, how Miss Park felt herself melt in front of the smiley, small boy. The long black coat he was wearing matched with his father’s who was readjusting his son’s backpack with an equally fond smile, giving him a few last bits of advice. The back pack was something colourful, she remembers, a blue off-brand backpack with cars on them, she could tell he was from a middle-class family, like almost every kid. She watched from afar as Mark Lee’s father went down, a knee on the floor, carefully taking a camera out of his pocket. Without complaining, small Mark Lee took place near the door, letting the teacher detail him a little bit more, giving his father his best smile as the flash went on.

That was her first memory of Mark Lee. This, alongside, his everlasting smile as he entered her class, dark, short locks bouncing at his every step he took with his brand-new white sneakers he promised his dad not to ruin, and the small wave he gave before the men left, giving both a smile to his son and his son’s new teacher, his footsteps echoing on the faux marble floor on the school.

One thing that Miss Park really liked about Mark Lee, was how helpful he was, and she saw it the first day.

Things are never calm and peaceful in a kindergarten class, especially when it’s the first day. So the lady wasn’t so shocked when she heard cries before she even saw the child making them. Echoing in the corridor, the teacher could distinguish a mother’s voice, trying to encourage her child, but never did the cries stopped. 

As they got closer to her class, Miss Park gave one last look to the room. Kids were already playing at different spots, most of them were curious about the big dollhouse and the car carpet, no one was biting anyone, she could give the last child her full attention.

A look out of the door, and she immediately saw the woman in distress trying to stop her child from making a scene, rubbing her back, bouncing her body lightly, up and down. But nothing made it better, if anything, as soon as the young girl saw the outline of the class and all those kids she didn’t know, her cries were even louder. Mother greeted the teacher like she could, with an apologetic smile, teacher’s bright and reassuring smile never faded. 

Miss Park doesn’t remember everything perfectly but soon enough, the crying child was in her arms as she gestured to the mother to go and leave quickly. She remembers the messy hair, she could see the attempt at a braid, the wrinkled shirt and most importantly, the big and sparkly, innocent eyes the girl had, alongside the crocodile tears rolling down her chubby cheeks.

Miss Park probably made an attempt to calm the child down, as she usually does, but what she remembers is the slight tug of her dress she felt. Delicate, a small head fisting the fabric of her flower dress as she looked down to a Mark Lee that had just finished taking off his coat and shoes. 

She remembers kneeling, the small girl’s face that was hiding in her neck looking at who was bothering her comfort session but never did Mark erase his small smile, his hand handing something to the teacher. Cooing, the lady took what he was giving her, a tissue he took from his backpack, sitting just below the coat. “See, Y/N. Mark is nice, he gave you a tissue.”

Perhaps. Perhaps Mark was, or is, nice. But that doesn’t change how much you hate him, since day one. Maybe you were one of Miss Park’s favourite student, but Mark was the favourite student. See, years pass, people change, life goes by, but never did Mark stopped being the number one, leaving you the bitter second place.

He had always been every student’s favourite, boys and girls. He was good at sports, but definitely the best at dancing. He was one of the first kids chosen to be part of any team for any sport ever, people would actually fight to get the two of you in their team and somehow, after years, they knew that putting you two against each other would make a great fight for the win. 

They said the dance club didn’t have a leader but he was the main men, you didn’t join the club but word has it that if you walked by the dance room when class ended, you would hear one pair of foot rhythmically tapping the floor, him and only him practised that hard. It was also said that everyone in the club would turn to him to seek advice and approval.

Imagine your shock when Mark Lee was seen on TV for some dancing competition, thankfully you don’t have a lot of memories of that time but one thing was sure. The next day, as the boy walked down the grey hallways, everyone had eyes for him and only him.

He was nice and helped everyone, he had good grades and still, somehow, was seen like a cool kid to hang out with, most people wanted to be his friend. Even though, with all the teenager movies you’ve seen, good grades and popularity aren’t compatible. You really didn’t know how he did it, but since junior high school, where the sense of competition started growing within you, you’ve had the theory that perhaps, he sold his soul to the devil for both good grades and popularity.

He even was every teacher’s favourite, always the one who could go out for the cool tasks, always the one in charge, always the one praised.

Alright, maybe you were exaggerating. You had a few great tasks too, but you still lived in Mark Lee’s shadow, or at least, you thought so. No matter what you did, he was still a bit better than you, and it was driving you insane. You could complain about him to your friends, to your family, even. Mark Lee was a name that left your mouth with venom and disgust. So obviously, when high school arrived, everyone knew you two were mortal nemesis.

Puberty took a bit of time to do its job on you, only hitting you towards the very end of high school, but it definitely didn’t forget about Mark. That’s another thing your then materialistic young mind hated about him, he had the grades, he even had the looks. Now that you think about it, it’s like he never even had an ugly period, and if somebody asked you, that was just unfair, the universe hated you.

When puberty was doing its job on Mark Lee, making him taller, his features sharp but somehow still holding pieces of his baby face, he was one of the most popular in high school, while you preferred staying out of drama and whatever popular kids do.

However, it was hard to stay completely out of drama when Mark Lee found extremely funny to remind you that he was better than you, sometimes turning around in the middle of class to show you his grade, other times going as far as waiting for you near your locker. His once innocent and kind smile had turned into an everlasting superior smirk, the one that said, I am better than you, we both know it, everyone knows it. Your competition was in the public eye.

God knows you tried to outrun him in at least one discipline. You tried dancing, even if you were good at it, he was still better, with a lot more practice. You tried getting popular, which was a lost cause before you ever tried, Mark practically ruled the school. You tried getting better grades than him, but he was always, always, one small point ahead of you.

Most of the time, unknowing teachers would be amazed by the two of you, at how you two always seemed to be the top two students, always one tiny step apart. Sometimes, they would even ask for the two of you to do a project together, to which you would always firmly and strongly disagree too, while Mark had the same smirk on his face.

However, one year, you found it. His weakness. And really, you should’ve thought about it way before. You’ve always been better than him at drawing, since kindergarten. He was so bad at art that he couldn’t colour inside the lines, he couldn’t draw one decent looking circle, he couldn’t understand the underlying meaning of a piece of art.

And finally, you found something you were better at, something he couldn’t do as perfectly as you did. Art classes quickly became your favourite classes and the original intent of outrunning him strangely faded to actual interest in every type of art.

You would never, ever admit it, but in a way, it’s because, and thanks to Mark Lee that you found your way. As he filled his inscriptions for universities specialized in the scientific field, you were filling yours with art schools, art universities. That’s why, at the end of high school, you really, really thought he was gone. Out of your sight, out of your life. No more competitions, no more Mark Lee.

But boy, you were wrong. 

You’ll always remember your first day at your new university. You’ve dreamed about it, you’ve dreamed about Mingtian. You may have asked for multiple universities, you prayed to get to Mingtian, one of the continent’s top university. Everything was in your favour. You had moved out of your parent’s home, finally getting the independence you so long craved for, you had your dorm. You would make new friends, finally study something you liked, really, what could go wrong?

At first, nothing did. The weather was nice, the sun was out as you took your first step on campus, you were amazed by how big the campus was. Your first class was as amazing, you never ever liked being in class so much. And you made new friends. Yes, they weren’t in your field, but still.

You met Johnny at your local café. You were exploring the area, trying to find a place to study where you found the small café at the corner of a street, brown brinks and beige furniture. It was welcoming, the scent of coffee and pastries taking over your nose as soon as you took a step in.

Johnny was too occupied to welcome you, another worker did. However, he messed your order up and insisted on letting you get a free croissant, and that’s how the two of you became friends.

He told you he was Korean, lived for over a decade in America. He told you about his city and about his studies. You weren’t surprised when he told you he was at Mingtian, in the dorm just in front of yours. He was new as well and was studying music. Two artists meet and conversation flows easily, quickly, you two become good friends despite the differences. Johnny is the type of guy that doesn’t study until the last minute and waste every free moment partying or working on his music, but one thing is sure, he’s a good friend.

So much so that a month into the school year, when he finds out that he’s you’re only friend you’ve made yet, he insists on introducing you to his new music major friend.

Jaehyun, the other music major, was probably the sweetest person you’ve ever met. The first time you saw him at one of Johnny’s frat house party, he was screaming the lyrics of a song at the top of his lungs, the next day, he was making his mom’s secret recipe to cure any headache.

Quickly, the blond became one of your close friends, he would help you with some art project since he was extremely photogenic, and you would help him practice his vocals when Johnny was too busy working.

As said, Johnny’s frat hosted a lot of parties. If anyone heard some loud bass outside, there was a ninety-five per cent chance that it came from the infamous frat house. To be fair, when you first stepped into your new university, you didn’t think you would ever attend a frat party, but Johnny and Jaehyun both forced you to come, Johnny made it a point to introduce you to new friends every single time.

You can’t remember how many times you walked into the house, walking like a lost puppy, looking for one of your two friends submerged in a wave of college student’s body dancing to the new hit. Vision blocked by a mixture of blinding lights, artificial smoke and weed smoke before you finally found them, moulded into an old couch. You would slowly make your way to them, looking at the new friend they had that night, Johnny would finally, catch a glimpse of you and introduce you as “Y/N that doesn’t have a lot of friends.

Tonight is one of those nights.

When you walk out after waving goodbye to your dorm neighbour, you step a foot outside. It’s still the middle of winter, and you definitely feel it as a cold wind doesn’t need much force to pass through your white blouse. The sky is starting to get dark, the lights of the campus would light up at any moment, and you just figure you should walk to the frat house quickly. Closing your coat in front of your chest, you take quick steps around the campus. It’s surprisingly quiet outside, the heels of your boots hitting the ground at your every step. For once, you actually wanted to go to that party, which was a first. After a full week of finals, you needed to relax a bit, and what was better than a party with your friends.

The lights flicker a moment, before lightening the ground and the grass around the few frat houses. From afar, you can see a few college students having an anti-party in front of the doors, their silhouettes visible every time the colourful lights cast on them. You can’t really make up the song until you’re a few meters away from the house, where one of the members greet you. See, you may not have a lot of friends like Johnny says, but he doesn’t see that he actually made you a bit more popular, at least more popular than you were in high school.

The smell of alcohol and weed take over your senses as you enter the house, squinting your eyes, trying to distinguish a few faces. You know the house pretty well now, making your way towards the living room, you have to stand on your toes to find Johnny. You can’t see if Jaehyun’s here, but you don’t think too much anyways and make your way towards the back of the room.

Sweaty bodies still affect you as much as they did when you first entered a party, holding your hands up to create something that imitates your comfort zone as you navigate between drunk students. Dodging hands and unsteady red cups, once you get to the other side of the dancefloor, you pass by a few other students as Johnny finally notices you.

“Y/N !” You hear his voice before even reaching him, having to abruptly stop as two girls run up the stairs. “Everyone, this is Y/N, she doesn’t have a lot of friends here.”

At this, you were supposed to roll your eyes and deny, like you’ve been doing for the past five parties or so, but once the path clears in front of you and you finally take in exactly who’s sitting next to your friend, you freeze.

“Fancy seeing you here.”, is the first thing he says. There, sitting next to your friend, in your friend’s frat house, in your university, is none other than Mark Lee. God knows you didn’t miss that smirk, and it didn’t change at all. His pink lips match the rose hue that colour his cheeks, probably because of the alcohol or the heat. Tugging upwards to hide half of his eyes, his pupils stay locked on your figure, a few dark brown locks falling in front of his eyes. You notice that he changed his hairstyle, parted in the middle, showing his glowy skin. He’s wearing a loose shirt, collarbones showing as one of his arm’s behind the couch, the other stretched on his leg as he holds a cup as well.

Reacting quite slowly, Johnny’s eyes move between you, still standing there, and his new medicine student friend.

“Oh, you know her ?”, he finally asks, stretching his hand out so you can take it. You hesitate for a moment, suddenly you really, really don’t want to be here. Even, why is he here? You forgot about him, in a few months only, you thought he was gone for good, doing god knows what in another city.

Johnny gives you a questioning look, and for a good reason. You’re here, looking at Mark like he’s an apparition, an apparition of your past, and him, he’s looking at you with a smile, way too proud of himself. You can’t run away, Johnny would probably drag you back, so you have to act normal, you figure. You didn’t know your mouth was slightly open before you close it to swallow your saliva, and you grab Johnny’s hand before he tugs you towards him.

“I think I’ve seen her around my high school a few times, I’m not quite sure.”, Mark responds, a smile still clear only his lips only for you to see as you let Johnny guide your body, forcing you on his lap. The audacity, he really dared to act like he hasn’t known you for almost all his life, a few sits away at every class. 

If Mark could take a picture of this very moment, he definitely would. The way your eyes look round and big like the first time he ever saw you and for once, it’s like you’re missing some words to finally respond, really this party started out great for him, he really didn’t regret coming.

A small laugh moves his chest, taking a moment to take in your figure, curious eyes scanning over you both and Johnny, the same glint he has dancing in his eyes since he was a child. He stays silent for a moment, he wonders for a moment if you’re the girl Johnny had been talking about for the past week and unconsciously, you get a bit more comfortable on his lap.

That’s how you figured out Mark Lee was still somehow in your school. And you should’ve thought about it, really. Mingtian is a well-known university, it’s as big as a small city, the scientific course is one of the best in the whole country. You should’ve known that he had applied here as well, but you can’t really blame yourself, can you? Even if you knew he also got accepted here, the chances to bump into him reminded so, so slim. The scientific department was at one end of the university, the art side a completely other end. But he had to be there, he had to know two of your closest friends, and he had to befriend them.

Your theory’s that he befriended them just to annoy you, and it worked.

Mark started hanging out with Johnny and Jaehyun even more, and of course, the two wanted you to tag along. You didn’t want to risk losing them just because of him so after a bit of argumentation and a lot, a lot of talking to yourself, you agreed.

At first, it was just some Saturday nights spent in either Johnny’s or Jaehyun’s dorm room, a random movie playing in the background and mostly university gossip about people you barely know filling the room. You have to say that you prefer those nights in Jaehyun’s room, Johnny has the habit to smoke a lot during the weekends, you always end up leaving the dorms with your clothes smelling like weed and having to justify yourself to everyone you encounter.

You also like Jaehyun’s room better because he can open his bed and make more place and two more really comfortable big cushions. Most of the time, you’re on the bed with either Jaehyun or Johnny, Mark standing as far away as possible.

At first, you had to say that you really thought you’d end up jumping at Mark’s throat after the first few hours, but strangely enough, he was civilized. Never did he mention your weird phases during middle-high school, never did he throw any major shade, making those nights a lot more enjoyable than you thought.

However, the competition still remains, even though you two are in two different fields. You like to think that art isn’t about learning every by heart but rather feeling and understanding, voicing your opinion with argumentation and that medicine is more about pushing everything in your head, just learning again and again. Mark doesn’t understand that, or rather he understands when he wants. He understands that your work might be a bit hard when he gets a grade lower than yours, he doesn’t when he gets a grade higher than yours, but never will he admit that.

Remember about the coffee shop? It quickly became your spot to study. Small and quiet, your friend worked there, which meant a lighthearted pause every now and then, their pastries also rapidly became a guilty pleasure. They were pricy, sure, but oh how you loved spending a bit of your money in one of their black chocolate éclair, or one of their cups of vanilla coffee.

However, Mark quickly heard about the shop. After all, his friend worked there so wouldn’t he come by a few times, when his oh so busy schedule allowed it. Sometimes, he sat near the window, never too close from him since again, the shop was small, sometimes he came right during Johnny’s pause and had to tag along and ended up on your table. One thing was sure, he never ever missed a chance to shove his newest grade in your face.

Strangely, seeing him became less and less weird. On your part, you became less tense around him, actually making small talk here and there for Johnny and Jaehyun’s biggest joy, but never did it erase the everlasting competition and the underlying hatred you two had for each other, it was just, hidden.

Johnny and Jaehyun were easily fooled, thinking that the initial weird tension between the two of you had slowly fated, they started making plans for what the called “friend dates.” The first one was planned by Johnny who found a cheap but rather interesting and promising restaurant near the university, and that’s how you ended up in this Italian restaurant.

A yawn escaped your lips before you could even hide it behind your hand, both your arms stretched above your hands as you leaded back on your chair. A small smiled was offered by Johnny while Jaehyun was going back from his phone placed on the small iron table to his position, arm behind his chair as he looked behind his back, scanning the area. 

You don’t really know if it was a restaurant or more a place with a lot of small restaurants, either way, it was really pretty, you had to admit. Slow European songs were playing, lights hanging everywhere, carpets with different designs everywhere. It smelled like pasta and pizza, as cliché as it sounds and most importantly, it was crowded. So crowded.

It took around ten minutes to find a four places table, and now that you were sitting down, on this Friday night, it took everything in your system to not fall asleep right here and now. Jaehyun was, on the other hand, too hyper. Looking everywhere, checking his phone every two minutes, he didn’t hesitate to throw a few insults here and there as Mark was getting more and more late.

“Where is he ?“, asked Johnny again, yet never losing his patience.

“I don’t know, he isn’t answering his phone and this kid NEVER leaves it.”, for a moment you wonder if he’s actually upset or if he’s exercising his acting skills, the pout on his lower lip more and more prominent.

“Wait a few minutes, I’ll go to his dorm if he doesn’t show up.” You and Jaehyun nod at this, only to be cut by heavy footsteps of someone running. Even with all the people and all the general noise, your attention gets caught by the few people complaining about someone pushing them without even giving a single apology.

Jet black hair comes bouncing at his every step, a not so apologetic smile contorting his features whenever his shoulder bumps into someone by mistake. You’ve never seen him this happy, his lips stretching up soon as he finally sees the three of you, his eyes disappearing for a moment. Before he reaches your table, you notice the paper he’s carefully holding in his hands, sometimes holding it to his chest or up in the air whenever someone might damage it.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, notices the phone his holding in his other hand, the one he didn’t care to check for the past ten minutes.

No matter how questioning your looks are, never did his smile fade, both his hands slapping the iron table as soon as he reached it.

“Finally, we were about to call the police and report a missing child.”, was the first thing the blonde found appropriate to say, even though it was well obvious the brunette has something important to say. Nevertheless, his smile never faded as he took a few seconds to catch his breath, his head hanging low for a moment.

“Mark, take a seat.”, Johnny finally spoke, gesturing to the seat right between the second music major and you.

Flopping without any grace on the grey chair, Mark finally sat down, his respiration a bit steadier, he flipped the white paper over.

“Guess who just got a one-week internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory ?”

An internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory. Jaehyun’s pout somehow disappeared after a few seconds just to congratulate the lucky boy, Johnny stayed true to himself and got excited as if he was the one who got the internship. You had to congratulate him, it would look weird right, if you didn’t congratulate your so-called friend, plus you didn’t want to bring the mood down just because of a bit of bitterness. You found yourself congratulating him almost naturally, if it wasn’t for the tight smile you gave him and the full one he returned, you really didn’t get the chance to see him a lot like this back in the days.

After the initial mixture of shock, joy and excitement came down, you finally all got up to get something to eat in this big place, finally settling down as Johnny decided to bring a toast to Mark with his sunset cocktail. 

For once, you weren’t really jealous, after all, you were well placed to know that Mark worked hard to get that internship, you were just a foot away when Johnny made him act his interview out at least once a week to make sure it was perfect. Finally, the tense smile left for a sincere one, who were you to hold grudges from years ago and spit on your friend’s, or almost friend’s, success.

At some point in the night, way too many cocktails were drowned and tested, with alcohol or without, at the end of the night the three boys were at least a bit tipsy, you were at least buzzed by their loud discussion and laughs. You know your teenage self would be screaming at you, but here’s the thing, you aren’t a teenager anymore, you’re a young adult, as they like to call you, and you want to behave like so.

Your hand finds Mark’s arm, catching his attention as you lightly tap the fabric of his shirt. The white button-up he was wearing for the interview was starting to get wrinkled, but he certainly didn’t care, his sleeves pushed up, the way he didn’t even fold them were making you slightly anxious.  

You almost laughed at the puzzled look he gave you for a moment, a smile stretched your lips as you finally spoke. “Congrats on the internship, Mark.”

One thing was sure, Mark had a lot of hope for this internship. After all, the fact that he worked there for a week looked good on his student’s dossier, but if they also added that he worked hard and well, that could be an important point for a future employer. Maybe he dreamed a bit too much, after all, he was on his first year but, if they saw that he worked hard and most importantly, was serious and had potential, maybe they would keep him in mind after he graduated.

Needless to say, Mark was putting a lot of hope in this. On his first day, he wore some formal clothes, something similar to the button-up he wore for the interview and he swore he couldn’t stop smiling when they gave him the white blouse and a little tag with “Mark Lee” written on it.

The laboratory was huge, even after a month he was sure he could get lost in it but luckily for him, someone took him under their wing. Doyoung had been working there for almost two years now, he made sure to make Mark visit everything the first day, would sit with him during lunch and introduce him to his friends. Doyoung knew what he was doing, he knew he was giving the brunette a chance to make contacts and perhaps play with them after he graduated. The men quickly grew fond of Mark, actually seeing a younger him in the boy.

On the first day, he didn’t get to do a lot, but it was good enough. After all, they made important things there, like drugs, and if he messed up, a lot of people would suffer from it. He knew he wouldn’t get to play with some experiments but watching was already a great experience for him.

After three days, Mark didn’t miss the opportunity to loudly enter the coffee shop pretty late in the afternoon, the only day his internship allowed him to get out early, not that he actually wanted to leave as soon as possible. For a good hour or two, he explained everything about the building, what they did and what he saw, no need to say that when he started talking about some experience they were doing for some new drug and what chemicals they were using, your art student self, the two music student didn’t quite catch everything. But being the good friends you three were, you would nod and listen anyways.

You have to say your interest got poked when he mentioned the closed room he didn’t visit yet, apparently, they kept small animals there to test drugs on them.

“Animal testing.”, you simply said, the tone in your voice enough to project your opinion on the subject.

“They’re actually trying to reduce animal testing until at some point, they’ll just stop doing it.”, Mark said, taking a sip of his black tea, the same he drank every time he stayed a bit at the coffee shop, glancing over at Jaehyun. The boy was big on cruelty-free products and even had one of Lush’s bags to prove it, one of his eyebrows raising, telling him to continue.

“Basically they’re testing on spiders right now, but as time goes by they’ll start testing on cells and human tissue.”, he said, almost too casually. What he didn’t say though, was that he asked about animal testing to Doyoung just to inform you and Jaehyun. Yes, he also was against animal testing but he knew the two of you were a lot, lot more passionate by the subject.  

“Wait, spiders ?”, you asked, after you finished your cup of chocolate. You didn’t even know testing on spiders were a thing, you knew about rat, mouse, and rabbit. Maybe you didn’t really hold spiders close to your heart but it didn’t mean you couldn’t feel bad for them, not now that you knew some weird drug were being tested on them just for humans.

“Yeah, the room I was talking about earlier, that’s where they keep them. Doyoung said he would show me tomorrow and I don’t know if I’m more excited or completely terrified to be in a room with like, thousands of different spiders.”

“Can you imagine if someone like, leaves the door open and all the spiders escape.”, that’s the only thing Johnny found appropriate to say, a noise of disgust coming from both you and Jaehyun and you were sure he felt the same shiver run down his spine as you looked at Johnny in horror, who didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Everything’s pretty secured there, not a single chance that a spider could escape his box, even less the whole fucking troupe guys.”

And oh, if he knew.

Mark liked to think that he was a rather cautious young man, for a lack of better words. He always looked both ways before crossing, he was always cautious when driving, he never got in any sticky situations, but really, he couldn’t know what was coming.

As he was standing in front of the white door, he waited like the good student he was for Doyoung. Now that he took the time to think about it, he could really see himself working here, some people already knew him, greeting him as they walked by. Deep down he was anticipating the last day, but he would cherish this week and all the opportunities he had the chance to have.

“Good afternoon Mark.”, Doyoung’s voice could be heard from the other end of the corridor, lightly singing the college student’s name. His pitch-black hair were a bit messy, which was particularly strange for the men who was always clean on his image.  The sleeves of his white blouse had been crunched up to his elbows, and only then did Mark remember that Doyoung had a reunion for a new drug right before.

A polite smile stretched the boy’s lips as he turned to face the one he considered his mentor now, putting his hand forward so he could shake his.

“Alright, the reunion’s not over yet so, I’m going to unlock the door for you because I trust you. But Mark, make sure to push the door when you leave and it’ll lock itself.”

Only then did Mark notice the way his eyebrows furrowed for a moment, he didn’t dare ask him to stay or even talk about his reunion, not with how quickly he whipped his card out of his pocket, scanning the back. His thumb quickly tapped in the code he seemed to remember by heart, before pushing the door and taking a step back.

“Or you l-“, started Mark, never getting the chance to finish his sentence.

“I have to go kiddo, be careful and don’t let them run away.”, as the only thing he said before walking away, throwing finger guns at the youngest before quickly walking back to the reunion. Really out of his usual state.

Alright, maybe that’s not how Mark imagined his day, after all, he never entered any room without anyone’s supervision, he doubted that Doyoung wasn’t breaking some rule by letting him, a young college student, in a room full of spiders with God knows what in their system. The boy even took a few seconds to rip his eyes away from the figure of the brunette quickly walking away, not quite realizing until the corridor went silent as his footsteps faded away.

Mark didn’t really want to stay in that room alone, he wanted someone to tell him about the species and they were used for, but now he was sure he would just look at them for a few minutes before walking away. When finally, he dared looking at the unlocked door, he at least had to say that it was quite intriguing, from afar. The blue hue coming from the slightly opened door had the power to spike his curiosity, what sounded like a powerful AC helping the room to stay rather fresh.

After all, if it was opened, he could at least give it a look, right? Shrugging his shoulders to himself, his hand easily pushed the wooden door, revelling the squarish room to the college student. Surprisingly, the room wasn’t too blue, he could at least see in front of him, make out the numerous cages, vivarium for the spiders. At first, he didn’t see them. His head to the side, Mark took the first step in, being careful not to close the door behind him, afraid he would lock himself in. Against each wall, he could count three lines of four vivariums, all the same size. They all looked quite the same, some sand or some dirt, some plants and a branch.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

His attention first got caught by the way the light danced on his skin, how his rings would catch the blue neon. The room was fairly silent, aside from the vibrating sound of the AC, he took a few footsteps, getting in the middle of the room. At first, it looked like all the vivariums were empty, only when he walked a bit more did he notice some movement.

Keeping his hands behind his back, Mark got curious for a moment. Behind one large wooden branch, at first, he didn’t see anything before a black spider’s legs finally made its way on the piece of tree. The college student didn’t really flinch, he never had a fear for spiders so he didn’t even need to be afraid when they were safely locked in these boxes.

When finally, the spider showed itself, not paying any attention to the men in front of its house, Mark had to say that at least, he never saw any spider that looked like that. Pitch black, he was sure the spider wasn’t noticeable in the dark, making it even more dangerous. Long, skinny legs, a red dot was in the middle of its small body.

Looking for anything with a bit of information, Mark searched around the box, nothing really showed the name of the spider of its species, maybe they stored the documents on top of the boxes, he wondered for a moment. He was tall enough to reach the top of the vivariums, but he couldn’t quite see it. Getting a bit closer to the box, he made sure to not leave any fingerprints on the glass before getting on his toes, his hand flat on the top.

Mark could make the opening of the vivarium, making sure to avoid it, he searched for a few seconds more but never did his hand bump into any paper. His hand did bump into something, but he didn’t know what, not paying much attention before passing his hand one last time. He didn’t hide his deception when he couldn’t find anything, his eyes getting lost for a moment in the vivarium in front of him. On his toes, he could see almost everything in the box, but strangely, he didn’t see any spider.

Looking for a moment from side to side, he could see the other spiders, every one different from the other. One finally got his attention, yellowish body, but before he could even look at the insect a bit more, a small gasp escaped his lips. Immediately taking his hand away, Mark tumbled backwards, almost bumping into the stacks of vivarium behind him. Confused look contorted his features as he took a moment to realize. His hand probably touched a loose piece of metal, his skin probably getting hurt on the sharp object, right? Under the blue light, his blood looked almost black, the two dots so noticeable on the skin of his palm.

Two dots, two dots. The skin around the two holes seemed to burn, his hand growing numb. His eyes widen in realization, they didn’t miss the small black object moving on the floor, looking a bit lost. Mark almost lifted his feet to crush the animal, now that he was looking at it a bit more, it wasn’t black, but brown. He must’ve bitten him and was still on his hand when he backed away, the fall was probably really disorientating for the spider.

Mark couldn’t believe his eyes, one of the spiders had escaped. A curse escaped his lips, his hand flat on the wound, making sure to not leave any trace of blood on the floor. For a quick second, he didn’t really know what to do, his heart was still calming down from the pain of the bite, his mind not quite cooperating after realizing he had one of these spiders in front of him.

He had to think quickly, and leave as quickly. His valid hand took a tissue from his back pocket, one he always carried with him. Not thinking twice, he threw the fabric on the spider before it could run away again, and before it could escape the dark prison, Mark quickly picked it up, almost running to the vivarium.

The college student’s eyes couldn’t leave his dorm’s selling, the index of his left hand tracing the homemade bandage he had for his wound. After what happened, Mark quickly ran to the bathroom, making sure no one was there. He wasn’t sure what he risked, after all, he didn’t let the spider escape, it escaped on its own, but he didn’t want to put Doyoung in trouble for letting him, a young college student, all alone in such a place.

Maybe it was too late and maybe it was unnecessary but he bought his lips to his mound anyway, sucking to blood before spitting, he saw that in a documentary once. He wasn’t even sure if the spider was dangerous, sure he was a bit lightheaded from the chock but his body didn’t seem to react.

He didn’t want anyone to know what happened in that room, he didn’t want it to be heard, so he acted like nothing happened. He made sure to close the door behind him and even stayed a bit more before finally going back to his dorm.

Everything was normal, really, at least he tried to convince himself. He quickly walked back to his dorm, made some food, slipped into his more comfortable clothes. He had been eating pasta for the past week and decided to switch it up for some ramen that night, picking his grey sweatpants and a random hoodie before getting under his blanket, tomorrow was his day off and he could treat himself to some Netflix and fall asleep as late as he wanted as long as it wasn’t after the break of dawn.

Really, everything was normal, he almost forgot about the bite, if it wasn’t for exactly three episodes into Umbrella Academy, around one in the morning. Mark’s wound started itching, at first he didn’t pay much attention, he didn’t want to. But the more he ignored it, the more he felt like the wound was burning, more than it did when the spider bit him.

Lightly, his fingernails scratched the bandage, he didn’t want to hurt himself even more but the itching was so annoying and loud that he unconsciously clenched his jaw, the bone enlightens by his laptop screen. He had to say, he might have panicked a bit when his heart started beating loudly in his ribcage, his ears growing hot, he couldn’t even hear the soft dialogue of his episode.

The more time passed, the more his focus on his screen faded, he couldn’t even pay attention to what was happening as he tried to control his breathing. Under his sweatshirt, his chest was moving up and down irregularly, was he having a panic attack? It never happened to him, but somehow he knew it wasn’t that, it was something else. Cold sweat appeared on his hairline, and that’s when he really started panicking.

Moving his laptop to the side, the screen almost hit the wall of his dorm room, moving his blanket away to completely expose his body to the cold air of the night but it didn’t even change anything. His feet on the floor didn’t even help to regulate his body temperature, neither did the half bottle of water he drowned in seconds.          

Something was wrong, but never did Mark felt like giving in the panic. His hand quickly found his phone lost in his huge blanket, activating his flashlight, he was quick to raise on his feet, putting aside the way he felt lightheaded and almost dizzy at how quickly he got up.

He didn’t even know if he had the right to walk outside of his room at this hour, to be frank he didn’t really read the rules of his dorm but he needed to go to the bathroom anyway, he needed to splash some water on his face and stop this panic.

The whole process to go to the building’s bathroom was a blur, thankfully he didn’t come across anything and he quickly got a hold of the faucet, letting the water run for a moment. His eyes took a moment to get familiar to the white artificial light of the room, the white walls not making anything to help.

Strangely, he didn’t look weird, nothing was strange about his face, about his appearance. Yes, he looked a bit panicked, a bit sweaty but he didn’t get any allergic reaction so why did he feel so…weird, so bad? He starred at his figure for a moment. He had to stop giving in to the panic, he had to think rationally, maybe he ate something bad, maybe the ramens weren’t good anymore, maybe he needed sleep. After all, he had a few rough and full days, maybe staying up late wasn’t a good idea. Yes, it was probably something like that.

Bringing his hands under the water running down, he looked at it for a moment. Breathe in, breathe out, before he brought his hands to his face. The cold water sure helped calming his features, his jaw relaxing, it helped cool his temperature.

A sigh left his lips, his shoulders relaxing as he shook his hands, he needed to calm down. His attention got caught once again by the white, homemade bandage, thinking for a few seconds. With the water, the sticky fabric started lifting up from his skin. He just wanted to check, see if it had gotten worse, so the sleepy college student quickly took the bandage off, he could make a new one if he needed to. For a second, he really thought he was sleepy, for a moment.

The wounds were gone.

[6:39 PM] Jaehyun: Hey dumbass, you’re almost 40 minutes late, where are you?

Mark doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know where his phone is. The vibrations make it sound like his phone’s everywhere at the same time, he almost feels them in his spine, both his hands closing around his ears.

[6:55 PM] Jaehyun: We’ll wait five minutes, not a minute more so you better get your ass here quickly.

The college student desperately tries to understand where he is for a moment, he just woke up in a cold sweat yet again, but he doesn’t even remember falling asleep. His mind is still fogged by sleep, or rather the lack of it. Strangely, the floor’s clean, weirdly clean.

[7:05 PM] Jaehyun: Hey, are you ok?

He doesn’t even know himself.

It’s been a few days since the bite, but he didn’t really keep track since his internship ended. Since he left the laboratory, he didn’t feel like himself anymore. Truth be told, when the wounds disappeared, he just brushed it off, maybe he bled a little and the wounds were too small for him to see and he didn’t want to become paranoid over such a small incident. But he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt, different. Waking up in a cold sweat became too familiar, he would run to the bathroom and had to change his clothes at least once every night. He quickly ran out of clothes to wear, forcing him to do his laundry multiple times a week.

He didn’t know if nightmares would wake him up, he didn’t remember his dreams, it felt like he didn’t dream at all and just woke up tangled in his sheets, in a pool of his sweat, completely disoriented every time. At first, he thought he was sick, but he didn’t have any fever despite the weird feeling of being slightly out of your body and seeing things your mind creates to trick you.

As the days went by, his muscles felt more and more sore. It started with his arms, at first he thought it was because he forgot to stretch after his sport session, but arms day was last week. It spread to his shoulders, tense and back arched, he only felt at ease when he was resting, laying. Quickly, his legs didn’t resist, and yesterday he couldn’t even study for more than an hour before he felt like all his resources left his body.

He fell asleep on his desk so quickly, all the will in his body couldn’t even keep him awake for more than a few minutes. Once again, dreamless night, he woke up in the dead of the night, cold sweat collecting on his forehead. Really, these past days only left the shadow of who Mark once was. He barely ate, slept a lot, didn’t get any work done. Even when he slept, he barely got any peace or any energy, he barely felt less sleepy.

All of this, all of this was strange and unusual for him. Mark Lee has always been an energic kid, an energetic men. Never did he ever felt so tired, so out of everything. Mark rather was the type to work even more after school, he had a lot of energy and everyone knew about it, from his parents to his teachers. At first, he tried to stay calm and find some rational reason. After all, he just started college and it was pretty stressed, he had to admit even if he didn’t like to give in to stress, he just finished a week-long internship where he had a few missions, so really, it must be that. It could be it but this, this right now, was not normal at all.

When finally, the sleep started fading away, small eyes taking the fading sunlight in, only then did Mark found that he was a bit more alive. For once in a few days, his body didn’t feel sore, he could stretch a bit and his muscles wouldn’t scream at him. He could fully breathe in, take a deep breath in and look out the window. It was still pretty early but the sun was weirdly down… His eyes narrowed for a moment as a yawn escaped his lips, one of his hands rubbing his eyes. His head tilted to the side, was the building in front of him…upside down?

He almost laughed, before looking up. That’s when a scream escaped his lips, completely uncontrolled, panicked wide eyes took in his room, just like he left it but upside down. He almost pinched himself, what type of dream was that, he looked again at his room before his eyes focused on his feet.

He was on his ceiling.

And as soon as he realized, taking in his ceiling and the way the sunshine filtered through his blinds from way too close, he fell down. The loud sound echoed in his room, alongside his whine as he rolled on his side, the college student didn’t know but his carpet and thick blanket he left on the floor managed to absorb a bit of the pain. Whines escaped his lips for a few more seconds as his hands pressed on his arms, he was sure to have bruises there and on his sides, staying there for a few moments.

“What the fuck.”, what the fuck just happened, what the fuck was that? He was on his ceiling, just moments before, he was up there. He didn’t imagine it, it wasn’t a dream, he saw the way the building in front of him was upside down, he saw his bedroom from up there. He couldn’t explain it but he knew he wasn’t hallucinating, he had bruises to prove it, the way he fell in the middle of his room and how bad his arm ached told him he didn’t simply fell from his bed.

“Hey, Mark. Are you ok ?”, a voice came from the door, he couldn’t mistake the voice of Johnny. He certainly wanted to check up on him, heard his body falling from a few meters, or his whines, and wanted to check. The room fell silent for a minute, Mark needing time to register the situation and find how he would respond. He knocked a few times on the thin wooden door, as thin as the walls clearly, and the young men called for his friend again.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, don’t worry !”, he, himself, wasn’t convinced at all. His voice was somehow still sleepy, shaking slightly. He managed to get up on his elbows, having trouble to even flip on his stomach to face the door.

“Do you need help ?”, asked Johnny, sounding worried. Clearly, he didn’t believe what Mark said in the slightest. The thing is, after months of friendship, Mark had a key to Johnny’s room and Jaehyun’s room, which ultimately meant that Johnny probably had a key to Mark’s room as they were speaking. Whatever was happening right now, whatever was going on with him, his body or his mind, Mark didn’t want anyone to see it. Both ashamed and scared, him, the well put together from the group, didn’t even want his close friends to see his bruised and tired, sleepy body down on the floor for some reason, he didn’t want anyone to see the bags under his eyes and the way they were big with a mixture of both fear and shock. He was scared, scared of what was going on, he didn’t want to talk about it to anyone before he, himself, figured it out.

“No, no don���t worry. I’m just tired and…I need sleep.”, was the only thing he managed to get out, his legs kicking his blanket away without any successful result. At his voice, he was sure his friend could tell something was going on inside that room.

“Mark, don’t lie to me.”, the music major said, sounding a bit disappointed. After all, he was his friend and he couldn’t bear having him lying so blatantly and skipping a friend date without a reason. Before he could even respond, Mark heard the distinct noise of a key sliding in his bedroom’s door, understanding quickly that he wasn’t planning on letting him get away so easily.

Without even understanding, his right hand lifted up. It was just a reflex, he didn’t think it would stop his friend from entering his room, it was just a vain attempt but as soon as his hand lifted, guided towards the door, a white string shot out quicker than he could understand. If his eyes weren’t already wide, they were probably about to pop out. Right in front of his eyes, a white, thick spider web-linked the door to the wall, keeping it from opening. Mouth agape, Mark watched almost horrified as his friend tried to open the door but kept struggling to push it, not knowing what was the problem.

“What the fuck.”

See, Mark Lee is a smart boy. From day one, he used to get those star stickers in kindergarten, he would get high grades in junior high school, always staying at the top of his class and unlike his classmates, his grades didn’t crash once in high school. Somehow, he managed to keep his grades impressively high while keeping a social life. Maybe he had to work a bit more at the start of college but after all, it was superior studies, he had to work. He was also a smart boy outside of studies, so really, when he couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, he couldn’t help but feel extremely frustrated.

For a good hour after Johnny left, slightly hurt and even more worried, the college student spent a good part of the beginning of the night trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with him. He pinched himself a few times, he tried to wake up but deep down he knew he was already awake, from the moment he saw the sun upside down. He knew he was awake, yet he couldn’t believe his eyes.

When his body finally allowed it, he raised to his feet, checking his body. Nothing. Not a bruise, not even a red-ish area, it was like nothing happened yet again. Maybe then, he would’ve given in to the idea that he was hallucinating, if only he didn’t have the huge spider web in front of his eyes to prove that something was going on.   Hesitant fingers traced the spider web. It came from his hand, or his fingers, he didn’t know, but he put two and two together.

Believe himself or believe science and all he learned so far. If he believed what his teachers, what everyone told him for those past twenty years, he feared he might go crazy. Nothing, no book, no specialist, nothing and no one could explain what was going on with his body. If he believed himself, he took the risk to be seen as a crazy person, a freak, a delusional. But after all, he saw what he could do with his body now, great things, but scary things. If he believed himself, he had to understand by himself, and that’s what he chose.

When finally, after a long night of sleep which was surprisingly helpful, he finally texted you, Johnny and Jaehyun to reassure the three of you, he finally decided to understand things by himself, he almost lost all reason. See, Mark never really skipped class without a good reason. He was the type to skip maybe once or twice a year, only when he was really sick or had some family emergency, that week, he skipped all his classes. Of course, he made sure to tell his teachers, talking about some cold he got after the internship that ultimately resulted in him being stuck to his bed, he managed to someone build a good enough relationship between most his teachers that they all excused him for the week.

Mark wasn’t really happy about it, he didn’t like skipping class, he knew that at the end of it all he would’ve had stacks of documents and papers and classes to learn, but if what he saw was real, if what he did wasn’t the result of sleepless nights, paranoia and stress, then he couldn’t go out before he understood everything.

Feeding himself with junk food and leftovers, his workout routine was thrown out the window. He didn’t know how, he just knew it had to do with the spider bite, obviously. But he googled, and even read articles about that specific spider that bite him and it was essentially harmless. Yes, maybe it was a bit itchy and would hurt for the first few minutes but after reading all the articles about it from the first three pages of google, Mark could confidently say that a bite from this spider wouldn’t result in hallucinations, fever, cold sweat, anything he experienced. One box was checked.

He thought about going back to the laboratory, but without the pass they took from him on the last day, it was impossible, he just had to deal with that alone for the moment. He then, after hours of researches on spiders, remembered the bite and bruises. His body and skin were undamaged. He knew, it was just logical for him to have at least a bruise on the arm and side he fell, yet nothing was there. He could touch, press, pinch, he felt nothing, ending up with him crossing another box. Maybe it was the hours of researches, the hours of torturing his mind and turning his brain just to understand what was wrong with him, but somewhere in the night between the first and second day, he decided he would check one of his theories.

His scientific mind told him it was impossible, he would probably end up in the hospital or seriously injured, but after all, his scientific mind wasn’t much help these past few days so he decided to push the thought to the side. Just a knife would be enough, a small cut on his finger he could pass as a simple domestic incident if someone asked about it. Somewhere in the night, in the middle of the campus, Mark sat exactly where he fell. Everything was silent, everyone was pretty much about to fall asleep or studying as he could see all the lights slowly going off one by one room, in the building in front of him. The cold breeze coming from his window faded the sweat collecting on his skin away as he stared a moment at the knife. He was probably going crazy, but he needed to do it, these thoughts kept coming and coming as he took a look around him, papers around his body where he noted all his experiences.

He didn’t think twice, he had to look up as he quickly brushed the cutting knife on the skin of his finger. At least, it wasn’t as bad as a paper cut, the pain wasn’t so bad, perhaps a little hiss escaped his lips as he added a band-aid, but he could deal with it. Quickly, the blood could be seen through the cotton, at least he knows he was really hurt, had a real wound. With his second hand, he grabbed his phone, almost dying, with one swift motion he opened the camera, not paying attention to the message he got. Yes, it was weird, but Mark was ultimately just working on an experiment, and he needed proof and documents to work on. If tomorrow morning, his wound was still there, he would probably put himself in a hospital.

The sigh that left his lips was loud and clear, letting his back hit his bed, only then did he look a bit more at his phone. He had a few messages from the group chat both the one with a few of his classmates and the other with you, Jaehyun and Johnny. But he also had a private one from none other than you.

[10:23 PM] Y/N: Hey, how are you feeling?

Mark started at the screen for a moment. The men was slightly delusional, Mark was the type of person who thought no one really cared about him, or just because of manners. Sure, you, Jaehyun and Johnny expressed some concerns in the group chat which he quickly brushed off but he didn’t know you cared enough to text him privately. Weirdly, it kind of makes him feel good, like he wasn’t really alone. Only when the blue bubbles appeared on the screen, disappeared again, before popping up again did he understand that you were typing and erasing, just like he was doing.

[10:25 PM] Mark: Hey, I’m feeling the same to be honest.

And just as he sent the text, you sent one too, a small smile stretching his lips at the message.

[10:25 PM] Y/N: I made some soup today, want some ?

The thing is, you two never saw each other one on one, at least not in the past ten years. Yes, you two got a bit closer, and a lot more civilized since high school but so much more is happening right now, as Mark started yet again at the screen, not knowing what to answer.

You, on the other side, the building just in front of Mark’s dorm, stare at your screen just like he is doing at that exact moment. You can’t really believe yourself but, you do worry about him. You’re kind of obligated to, too, especially when both Jaehyun and Johnny seem pretty worried about the young college student.

See, you’ve also known the men all your life, so when you heard he would be missing for one of your friend dates and that Johnny heard something, someone falling down in his dorm room, you were sure it was the satanic ritual to keep both popularity and good grades. You weren’t too worried at first, since you had to skip a friend date but when you heard the was skipping a whole, and an entire week of school, you couldn’t help but be surprised.

You remember back in high school when he skipped two days in a row and how happy you felt to finally have a few days to breathe, but now, now that you two are somehow between friends and ex-enemies, you really can’t help but wonder. To add to everything, you didn’t tell Johnny or Jaehyun, but from your room, you had a small view on Mark’s window. Sure, you didn’t see anything, but you saw how his light was always on, it seemed like he wasn’t sleeping, you remember seeing his lights on when you were about to go to sleep and at four in the morning when you needed to go to the bathroom. Even at six in the morning, when you just woke up, his lights were still on.

Perhaps you and Mark didn’t get that along for most of your lives, but you knew he was the type to keep to himself, to not tell anyone what he going through, and again, the fact that he skipped an entire week, refused to see Johnny and seemed to not sleep at all only added to your sense of worry.

That day, you decided to make some soup, both for you who got a cold after your friend date, but also for Mark. Usually, you made food for you only, you rarely had leftovers, but even if your teenager self was screaming at you for the gesture, you had to get used to the idea that you and Mark were friends, and friends look out for each other. It was both an attempt to clarify that you didn’t really hold any grudges against him after all, but also in hopes of making him feel better that you added the Thai soup to a bowl, wrapping it in some transparent paper, you had left.

Isn’t it funny how things change quickly? A few months ago, you thought Mark was long gone from your life, and now you’re almost worried and bringing him soup to his dorm. It’s weird how you also feel anxious, years of hating Mark Lee’s guts would’ve suppressed any feeling for him and yet, here you are frantically tapping your fingers on the hot bowl. Is it too much, too soon? He could’ve denied though, are is it too polite to do so?

Can a few months really change your relationship? Won’t it be weird? You don’t even have the time to think much about all these questions before he opens the door, or at least tries to. You don’t know it but, on the other side, the young men is struggling to rip the thick spider web off, letting a breathy “W-wait, just give me a second” escape from his dry lips.

The young men knew your dorm was ridiculously close, actually he could see your window from his, not that he checked it to make sure you got home or anything, but he didn’t think you’d come so quickly.

The weird and new feeling of goosebumps rising on the back of his neck somehow told him you were close, he had to quickly kick his blanket on his bed, find a way to hide the too many boxes of noodles he had laying around and at least, at the very least, make it look like he was working. Only then did he have the time to give his attention to the web, going back and forth in his bedroom before he found a pair of scissors, hiding both the white thing and tool in a drawer.

Mark hoped he at least looked presentable.

“Mark Lee? Lee Mark ? Mark and you ?”, Yerim asks over the phone, making you roll over on your stomach. You suddenly regret even telling your old high school about last night, the way she pronounces Mark’s name and yours in the same sentence telling enough about how she’s feeling. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”, you whine on your end of the phone, hiding your face in your soft pillow. Really, you needed to tell someone about the night before and both Johnny and Jaehyun were crossed from your list. They didn’t even know that Mark actually knew you quite well back in the days, let alone that the two of you despited each other.

Yerim was the third-best option, she knew the history between you and Mark, was free and wasn’t sick of hearing you complain like many of your friends. 

“It is a big deal ?”, she started, her tone almost questioning your point of view. “You’ve been hating his guts for years, Y/N. And you’ve been telling me all about it for years too.” 

A deep sigh left your lips, really you didn’t know how to respond. The blonde was right, though. It kind of was a big deal, but you didn’t want to blow such a thing out of proportion. Your fingers ticked at a loose thread coming out of your blanket, a pout forming on your lips. “I knooow.” 

Ah, what was Mark Lee doing to you? The night before, when he opened the door and looked like he had run the marathon to clean his bedroom, you couldn’t help but laugh at him, his tense shoulders dropping down as soon as he heard the sound. 

You had spent the extremely short walk to his dorm wondering if being alone with him wouldn’t be weird and thankfully, it hadn’t been, at any point of the night. You wonder if him being sick and probably a bit feverish by the look on his face didn’t make the whole thing easier, after all, who wants to act though and actively keep grudges when sick? 

Your initial plan was to drop the soup, ask how he was doing and bolt out, make the experience short to avoid any chances of it getting ugly, but Mark had insisted for you to at the very least take a seat and tell him about the friend date he missed. The way he asked wasn’t forced, it wasn’t just something to be polite, and after all, Mark hadn’t seen anyone in quite a while now. The young man was the extrovert, he fed off social interactions, maybe that’s why he felt a bit happy to see you. Being sleep deprived does things to you, he figured. 

The five minutes trip you had planned turned into two hours, Mark was eating his soup on his bed, not wanting you to sit on it because it was “A bed of batteries”, while you sat on his desk chair, making it turn around occasionally as you told him about Johnny’s scream when he thought he lost his camera, Jaehyun’s failed attempt at dinner the other day. 

“And then ?”, asked Yerim, her mouth full of the cupcake she was chewing on. 

“Then? I got back to my dorm.”, you said like it was obvious and didn’t know why she was asking. On the other end, you could clearly hear her disappointment, yet another sigh leaving her lips. 

“Boring.”, she sang, your eyes rolled yet another time before she brushed her words off as a joke. “So, after all these years, are y’all friends ?”, she asked. 

Your head tilted to the side, from your spot, you could see his bedroom window, the light suddenly turning on in the small square as the night started settling in. 

“I guess we are friends now.” 

“Spring is here, read all about your campus’ events to celebrate !”, the headline reads as Mark scrolls down Mingtian’s website, remembering him how weeks had passed since the incident in the lab.

Crazy how your life can change so quickly, so drastically. Mark didn’t really have the time to look back, or maybe he feared doing it. Either way, his life wasn’t the same. A few days after you brought him some soup was all he needed to get back on his feet and get his thoughts together. Long gone was the shadow of himself he’d seen in the black screen of his laptop when another episode loaded on Netflix. 

Firstly, it didn’t take long for him to figure out that this never happened to anyone, anything like this, for the matter. Mark had dreams, a lot, and one of them was for him to discover something that would break science, find something no one ever laid eyes on before him, and he had it, it was him.  Sure, he didn’t expect such a thing to actually happen, nor happen so early on, but he could work with it, as terrifying as it was. 

Second, he figured that thing wasn’t doing anything too harmful to his body. A battery of tests and his doctor told him he was completely healthy without a doubt. So, he was here, actually healing faster when he got hurt, bruises and cuts disappearing in a day or two, hours if it was small. He could apparently walk on walls, but he didn’t really try again after that night he was stuck on his celling, and had something with spider webs that he would keep and test whenever he had the time. 

And that’s how, on third, he started thinking about helping people with his powers. (Mark actually didn’t want to use this word before a few days ago, but he had to face it, it was the definition of superpowers.) See, the thing is, superheroes weren’t unknown, they just didn’t happen in his city, did Mark Lee really have the pretention to be the first one here? 

After years of reading comics, going wide-eyed in front of the news channels, he knew that he’d have a lot on his shoulders. 

A lot of back and forth, could he rely on his powers? What was he really capable of? He didn’t know. For weeks, he locked himself in, he feared testing everything on the outside world until one night, he did it. 

Winter was still present in the air, but the early spring prevented the wind from biting the young man’s skin. The hoodie he was wearing close to his body, he kept his head low as he walked on campus, hands in his pocket. 

In the dead of the night, the streets were empty, only a few people had given up on classes at the time, making them the only people out at this hour, mostly drunk. As lights were going out one by one behind every window, Mark made his way further into the campus, until he reached a place far from only anyone at that time, the vacant stadium. 

“The campus’ superhero! All we know for now.”

Mark almost missed it, if the word “superhero wasn’t in bold, red letters. 

Without missing a beat, the student’s finger tapped on his screen, turning his brightness to the lowest setting. In the background, your conversation with Jaehyun only became a blur as Mark’s ears seemed to ring, his skin burning a bright red as he found hard to focus on such simple words.

The article was short, blurry and dark pictures didn’t even come close to being dangerous for his privacy, and clearly, they didn’t have a lot of information on him. The article clearly was written in the heat of the moment, little proof meaning little people would believe it right away, nothing was clear and set. Speculations on his age, his major. 

Apparently, someone had seen him on his last night out, the anonymous witness talked about seeing him shot something he couldn’t identify, seeing him climbing a wall before he lost him. 

Many comments weren’t taking the whole thing seriously, yet. It made Mark feel a lot, lot better to know that maybe, just maybe, he had a bit more time left to get ready himself before getting forced to show himself to the world. Vine references about how he was on “XGames mode”, and other memes managed to relax him a bit, before he tumbled upon other comments. 

Some didn’t believe yet, some made assumptions already, those got to Mark Lee. If it was real, he needed to be tested, some said, they needed to find him. The city’s own hero, what a task, he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay hidden too long. They went on, and on, never getting tired of their theories. 

“Oh my god.”, Mark whispers, his finger stuck on the screen, refusing to exit the app. 

“What did you say ?”, Jaehyun asked, chewing on his gum, his attention switching from you to Mark. Only Johnny was missing, his pause starting soon, you three were seated at your usual table in the café. The sun would set a bit later than usual, the golden light filtering through the large windows, the café emptying as it usually was busy early in the day. 

Mark looked up, eyebrows shot up to hide under his dark locks, his eyes moving back and forth from yours to Jaehyun’s, amusement from his sudden reaction clear on the other men’s eyes. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I- eh…I just blacked out for a moment.”, Mark finally managed to let out, locking his phone before leaving it on the table, people started talking about the new phenomena way too soon, he didn’t expect this big of exposure without even having everything figured out himself. 

Oh, the superhero life didn’t suit him that well. 

“You’ve been doing it pretty often these days, did you get some rest ?”, you asked, tilting your head to the side. Bringing your cup of tea to your tinted lips, you took a sip, almost chuckling against it as he got lost in his thoughts again, but this time, you were in the centre. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep due to coming finals, mixed with the slight shock he still had lingering around and the colour of lipstick you chose to wear today, but he took a bit too long to detach his eyes from the nude stain of the white object. Maybe it was the guilt from not telling any of his closest friends, the guilt he had because as time when by, he felt himself drifting away. 

“Yah, this kid is always dreaming”, Johnny’s loud voice and his hand ruffling his dark lock finished to bring him back to reality, a smile softening his features. The tallest took a seat next to him, making the new superhero look small in comparison. He couldn’t help but notice as he thanked Johnny for the cup of coffee, did he have the shoulders to do it? He wasn’t buff, he wasn’t extremely tall, he wasn’t the one to actively go to the gym, he had a few muscles from dancing and sports but so many guys religiously went to the gym for more, and more. 

“What are you dreaming about ?”, teasingly asked Jaehyun, to wish Mark decided to ignore at first. His cup of coffee was brought to his lips, his eyes stuck on the beige table, he vaguely listened to the conversation, trying to keep himself in, the conversation going back and forth until you giggled at something Johnny said. 

“I’m sure he is, I’m sure he’s daydreaming about this superboy.” 

Mark shocked on his coffee. 

Mark smirks, maybe he does, maybe he does have the shoulders to be the superhero they want him to be. 

But if he doesn’t ? He doesn’t care. 

That’s what he needed to figure out, that’s what has been blocking him for days after the article. Expectations from people he didn’t know, people that didn’t know him. He didn’t have anything to prove, and if he had something, it was something he had to prove to himself. 

His head tilts to the side, the skin-tight black hood only showing his eyes keeping his earbuds from falling. In his ears, the music at a low level only accompanies the street’s noise. Cars drive by, never noticing the shadow lurking at the top of a building, their wheels crush the small bits of wet pavement, a few passerby walk with their heads low towards their phone.  

Everyone looks small underneath him, he blended with the buildings, invisible but all-seeing. After rain’s fragrance tickle his senses despite the thick fabric covering his face, his upper body hangs off the wall, even like this, he’s so high no one see him.

He doesn’t fear falling, he’s confident in himself. After weeks of practice, he knows what he’s capable of. 

After a moment of observing the street’s movement, Mark decides to turn around. His back on the end of the wall, his shoulders, arms and head hanging off. He takes a breath, arms spread, eyes on the sky. It’s getting darker, he notices, the dark blue turning black as minutes go by, stars flickering in and out of his view. 

He’s excited more than afraid, the night sky going black his signal to get up and finally give it a try. His shoes kick a few rocks as he gets up, not even taking a second to brush the dust out of his hoodie. 

He’s on one of the tallest buildings, people are working underneath him, the lights never going off. Another tall building in front of him, the bank. It doesn’t have as many windows as the one he’s towering on, the pale granite looking almost grey under the artificial lights.

That’s the one he had his eyes on, taller from a few meters, he couldn’t make out the roof of the building, but that’s what he wanted. Mark’s eyes didn’t leave the end of the wall of the building, slowly taking steps further and further away. He needed to gain momentum, the steps at a rhythm, forcing his breathing at the same tempo. When the young man’s back finally touched the wall, he knew he had to do it quickly.

Quickly before he lost all confidence.

And so, he did.

Workers underneath him probably wondered what or who was walking, or rather, running on their rooftop. Running as fast, as hard as possible, he didn’t let his mind register what was happening as his right foot landed on the wall he was resting minutes before, one leg pushed his body off the building, and before his mind could understand that he was in the air without protection, he shots.

In milliseconds, the white string easily attaches itself to the wall of the bank, almost invisible yet so strong. Quickly, both his hands gripped the spider web, if he had enough force, he could do it. His arms pulled, as hard as he could, and for a split second, he swore he touched the sky.

He touched the sky, and before he could realise it, he was on the second building’s rooftop.

His back is the first one to hit the rooftop, hard and small rocks digging into his skin. It might hurt now, but everything will go fairly quickly. Furthermore, that’s not what Mark is focused on.  His body rolls for a few meters before he manages to stop himself with his hand and foot, thinking that he should probably wear gloves next time. 

Heart beating against his ribcage, he stays like this for a moment, face inches from the floor, hand firmly on the surface like he fears falling. He did it, he was on the other building. Slowly, the college student gets up, he feels even taller now, the rooftop he was standing on seconds before under him, he really did it. 

He could do anything. 

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he looked down at the string he shot waving in the air, deciding he’s let it like this, a trace of where his night started. 

After this, Mark was unstoppable, long gone were his fears, the city was his. 

Restaurants, cafes, streets he only knew during the day looked so much more interesting from his point of view, high and proud. When his attention isn’t on the streets, mindlessly trying to find something interesting, his attention was on the skyline, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, he was getting comfortable. 

The young student stopped fearing the jump, he didn’t hesitate anymore, his reception getting cleaner, his footsteps soundless.  He could do this all Friday night, he felt a new type of freedom, something he couldn’t quite describe as he shot yet another string, the night wind puffing his sweatshirt, licking away the sweat forming on his stomach.

He could’ve stayed there all night long, if he hadn’t been stopped dead in his tracks between two smaller buildings as he was risking his way back to the campus. 

The loud sound of a door metal door stopped him at first, his shoes landed on the convenience store’s rooftop.  Although it was indeed Friday night, and most parties were still going on at this hour, he hadn’t come across any fights, at least nothing this loud. 

Before he could get a good view on the scene, he had to crouch down, on hand on the triangle-shaped roof as he tried his best to stay invisible despite the large neon sign a few meters behind him.

And that’s when he almost fell down. 

In the dark, small street was you. Clearly angry and possibly confused, Mark could see a man that definitely was not Johnny or Jaehyun standing a few meters away from you, keeping you from walking away.    Mark understood right away, but he didn’t expect any action so soon, nonetheless with someone he knew involved. 

Slightly frozen at the top, he decided he’d listen to the conversation a bit more. As selfish and pathetic as it may sound, he was scared. He didn’t see himself as a hero, at least, not yet. 

“Your phone, your wallet. Quick.”, the men said, Mark couldn’t see his face, he was more focused on you anyways. 

“I’m not giving you anything.”, you snapped back, Mark was worried you’d get yourself in trouble even more, his guts screaming at him to jump in and take the man down. 

“It wasn’t a question.”, clearly, the tallest wasn’t finding any of this funny, he probably also wasn’t planning on you not giving in so easily.  Menacing, he took a few steps closer, enough that your body automatically took a step back, the back door of the club and the end of the street growing further away. 

“Listen up, slut.”, he started, and as soon as you saw his hand raising, you reacted out of impulse. You were scared, yes, but as a broke student, you couldn’t just give him your phone and your wallet, just most of your life in them. The bottle you didn’t even sip on in your hand found the wall, the glass breaking easily. 

Mark’s eyebrows shot up, being almost full, the liquid in the bottle splashed all over the wall, wetting the side of your top and your shoes. Probably in survival mode, you didn’t care much, you just knew that the now broken bottle would be as sharp as a knife, enough to threaten and defend yourself if needed. 

That’s when Mark almost fell backwards, his back falling straight on the green neon light of the store. If the obvious shadow wasn’t enough, the loud noise that came with the impact finished to give away his hiding spot. 

The robber turned around, surprised as he didn’t find anyone standing behind him. You, on the other hand, wished you’ve had the reflex to hit the men as he was distracted, but how could you when a shadowy figure that somewhat looked familiar jumped from god knows where. 

You swore you didn’t drink, no one slipped anything in your drink, yet you couldn’t quite believe your eyes when this person, who looked like he materialized in front of you gave a straight punch in the other men’s face, knocking him out for a few seconds. 

A gasp left your lips as you backed away completely against the wall, the broken bottle glass falling from your grip and you swear, you swear you almost lost your mind.  The men quickly got up, the difference in sizes was obvious, he towered over your new saver, but the masked one’s next move had the power to freeze you completely. 

His hand lifted, with nothing in it, and in a second, something shot from his silhouette. You couldn’t really see it, but a moment, the tall one was ready to knock the both of you out, the moment after, the was firmly held by something on the wall. 

The large, white substance was covering his body, he could struggle and move, he was stuck. A groan escaped his lips, kicking his shoes on the floor. 

“Who are you, what the fuck is that ?”, anger was clear in his voice, but apparently your new hero didn’t want to deal with this. His hand lifted a second time, the same stringy thing, this time aimed towards the men’s face.  Touching his forehead at full impact, his head harshly crashed against the wall, surely knocking him out for a few hours. 

The questions he asked kept running in your head, the adrenaline keeping you from thinking straight, but one thing was sure, he was the one articles were talking about.  The realisation finally hit your brain, your mouth agape as he turned around. You weren’t surprised when you saw he was wearing a black and thick fabric over his face, his face contoured under the material like he was about to say something before he stopped himself. 

 You couldn’t move, too scared, too shocked, his thumb and index formed an o, silently asking you if you were ok. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”, you finally breathed, “Thank you.”

He stared at you for a second, your eyes locked and you couldn’t help but wonder where you saw those eyes. His dark brown eyes were a window to his emotions, you didn’t need to see his face to understand that he was strangely really concerned, almost scared.  Maybe he understood that he was staring, he slowly nodded, apparently, he didn’t want to talk and didn’t know how to communicate with his hands. Shooting you a thumbs up, he ended up holding his hand a bit up, palms towards you, like he was asking you to slow down, probably telling you to be careful. 

You nodded again, every one of your braincells had left your brain at this very moment, you couldn’t believe what you just saw, you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. “Who are you ?”, you finally asked, like he was going to give you his name just like that.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t have the time before your phone started ringing. Both you and Mark recognised the special ringtone for Johnny. Without thinking, you picked up with a trembling hand, you almost forgot where you were but seeing your friend’s name on you phone only made you want to get back to security as soon as possible. 

“Yeah Johnny, I’m outside, please com-”, you started, before the masked men retreated. “No ! Wait !”, you screamed out, but he was too quick, climbing the wall of the club like it was some simple stairs he was going up. And just like that, he disappeared. 

“Look! Look, look, look, look !”, you jumped on your seat, leaving your phone screen up on the table. Jaehyun quickly looked at it, before resting his back on his chair, torn between getting annoyed and laughing at your attitude. On your phone, was an article about the night you almost got robbed and got saved by “Spiderman”, the name you and a few other people gave him, slowly starting to take off.

You were lightly featured in the article, this wasn’t what you cared about, you cared more about the encounter, you never thought you’d see someone with powers with your own two eyes, you could hardly wrap your head around the fact that they existed. For days now, you were almost obsessed, you needed to thank him, weirdly, you didn’t remember doing it. 

Sadly for your friends, there was hardly a day without you talking about him, hardly a day where you didn’t try to understand who he was, how he became like this.

Sadly for your friends, especially for Mark. 

Oh, how he didn’t know where to put himself. He knew you’d talk about it, a little bit, but not that much. 

“Do you think he’s a student here ?”, you asked, you eyes going scanning your three friends’ faces. Mark dodged the question, shrugging his shoulders before going back to his book. 

“Most likely, yes.”, Johnny though, answered. If Jaehyun was slightly annoyed by the new obsession, Johnny, on the other hand, was getting into the entire conspiracy mood. After all, the mysterious man was the one who saved his friend when he wasn’t around, he almost felt like he owed him something.

“That’s such a weird power, though.”, Jaehyun said, stretching his legs until they were resting on your lap. Dropping you flashcards on him, you continued as he only added oil to the fire. 

“Right? I don’t think he chose this power. No one would pick this out of everything, right ?” 

“Do you think it was like, an accident ?”, Johnny asked, Mark sunk down on the sofa, bringing his book higher to hide his face. He had been reading the same phrase for the past hour, he couldn’t concentrate with his three closest friends unknowingly speculating about him. He couldn’t either deal with the fact that he didn’t tell you, he couldn’t now. He felt like it was too late.

“What do you think, Mark ?”, you asked. No matters how much you hated admitting it months ago, you knew Mark, and seeing him so out and distant was out of the ordinary. The young men usually was one of the mood makers, his loud laughs never failed to grab attention and make you follow his attitude, it didn’t take you long to understand that something was off. 

When Jaehyun was on your left, Mark was on your right, easy to reach, your fingers snapped in front of his eyes. 

“What ?”, he finally asked, making it feel like you didn’t hear his voice for hours. Both Johnny and Jaehyun had caught his odd behaviour and reaction, “His powers, what do you think he can do ?”, you asked a second time. 

“I, ugh-…I don’t know.”, he mumbled, avoiding any eye contact, his attention focusing on a random heart drawing he couldn’t memorize. Even in a bad mood, and you never really saw Mark in a bad mood, not this bad, he’d never avoid such a topic.  Mark Lee had always been kind of a nerd, he would bring comics to class, he’d get pretty excited when a new hero would break out. 

“Are you ok ?”, you finally asked, the question sounding more like a threat than anything else to the young leo. Silence was forced in the room, three pair of eyes waiting for an answer that should normally be obvious and given without a second thought. Was he ok? He didn’t really himself, to be honest. A few days prior, he was confident in himself and almost flying between buildings, now guilt and stress were the only things clouding his mind.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just stressed.”, he shrugged, thinking he’d be able to go back to trying to work with such an answer. What he wasn’t ready for, though, was your hand on his shoulder. In a millisecond, electricity ran down his spine as he finally looked over his book. The small smile and sweet look in your eyes was one you’d usually give to your two other friends, but he definitely wasn’t used to this. 

“Don’t stress, you’ll do just fine, I promise.”, you finally tell, to which the two other agree, a series of nods and, “You will, don’t worry.”, follow your sentence. 

For the first time in a while, Mark feels small, tiny butterflies in his stomach, a pink hue creeping on his high cheeks.  See, the young men felt accepted in the friend group, something he hadn’t felt since junior high, most likely. None of you knew, but Mark needed the encouragements, more than ever. A small smile crept on his lips as he thanked you, any memories of your old bickerings long gone. Finally, the mood settled down, as everyone seemed to go back to their studies, the leo’s mind somewhat calmer. 

“Anyways, I need to find a way to thank Spiderman.” 

Great.

"How stubborn are you ?”, your classmate Renjun asks, pushing the cubes of ice in his cup with his bright green staw. The sound gets drowned by the hubbub on the park you two are studying in. Or at least you are, eyes trying to adjust to the bright sun as you read your art book under a tree, few students passing by. 

“Very.”, you answer, tapping your pencil on your book, not taking a break from the small annotations you’ve been making. Yes, you were very stubborn, and you’ve been since your childhood. Weeks after the accident outside the club, the “encounter”, as you call it, you’re still determined to see him again, the hooded and mysterious young men almost everyone call spiderman. 

“It’s been weeks. You don’t even know who he is, where he is.”, pointed Renjun, like you’ve never heard it before, you’ve heard it from Jaehyun, Johnny, Yerim, everyone.  Sipping on his too cold iced tea, he coughed a moment as you roll your eyes, frowning at your book. 

“And ? He’s still on the campus, people saw him yesterday.”, you tell him, pouting. Putting emphasis on the last word, you almost sounded like a really dedicated fan of a still sketchy and unknown hero. But you weren’t lying, he did appear last night, Friday again. Almost flying between buildings in the chilling night, shooting spiderwebs after spiderwebs. 

 Actually, he appeared multiple times during the last weeks. Pictures clearer and clearer, it seemed like people were going out, hoping to get a glimpse of him, get the best picture yet. He always seemed to appear at night, during the weekends, but some people still managed to get some good, though grainy shots.  Average height and skinny was what you could see from the series of pictures. “That means I still have a chance to bump into him.” 

More and more, people stopped being septics, theories flying left and right on social medias, but no one really knew who was the masked student. 

“Just to thank him ?”, your friend asked, raising one of his dark eyebrows. Giving up on your book, you looked up as he spoke. 

“Yes, just to thank him.”

Saying it out loud almost made you sound ridiculous…Were you ridiculous? You just really wanted to thank him, in person and without the adrenaline that probably made you lose all of your words last time. Plus, the way he seemed so surprised as well, and how familiar his aura was only pulled you even more in.

“You’re unbelievable.” Renjun sighed, sipping on the last drops of his overpriced tea, making your crunch your nose at the noise. “So, what’s your plan ?” 

You chuckled. You don’t have one. 

“At least try and have some fun.”, Renjun visibly pouts, at least you think he is. The dim, red light of the club isn’t helping your vision at all, eyes tired from hours upon hours on the computer. Turning your attention to your friend, you sigh against your glass, the taste of the non-alcoholised drink you ordered still lingering on your lips, the loud music isn’t helping either when you try to respond. “I’m not here to have fun!”, you’re growing more and more annoyed by the minute, you’ve been here for an hour or so but it feels like you’ve been sitting here for far more, shoe unconsciously tapping on the club’s floor as all your friends dance to the beat of the song. Needless to say, your sentence didn’t make much sense in such a setting.  This seems to be the last straw for your friend, who, you have to say, you’ve been putting through a lot, frustration clear on his face as he sits down in the booth, just a table filled with bottles and glasses between the two of you. “You’re way too focused and obsessed with this thing.” He’s right, you know he is, but it doesn’t stop you from looking down at your half-full drink, swirling the liquid around with a finger, one side of your brain refusing to understand his very rational point of view.  “Come on, let’s dance a bit ? Even if you don’t see him tonight, it’s not a big deal.”

Once again, he’s right. Even if you don’t see him tonight, it shouldn’t be a big deal, it shouldn’t affect your mood nor your night, it really shouldn’t. But see, aside from thanking him, there’s something else that really is bugging you, the more you think about it, the more it’s suspicious, but the more it feels like you’re being paranoid, delusional.  How familiar he was, you didn’t mention it, it was just a feeling and didn’t think much about it, but now that his identity was a big, red question on everyone’s lips, you truly couldn’t push the thought aside.  Maybe it was someone from your class, someone you came across while going to one of your classes, you didn’t know and Renjun didn’t let you think more about it, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist to force you on the dancefloor. 

You can’t spot Johnny, probably dancing somewhere else and out of your vision or, knowing him, taking shots at the crowded bar. Jaehyun wasn’t there, nor was Mark, the first needed to get back home, while the second needed to study for upcoming tests. 

Not having half of your group did feel weird, especially on Friday nights and weekends. But, you understood that Jaehyun was pretty homesick and needed to recharge with his family, while Mark seemed to get back to his old self and tried as best as he could to regain his first place, nothing exceptional. 

“I need some fresh air, I’ll be back soon, alright ?”, you finally tell Renjun. Fuck it, you needed to get over it, eventually, all of this would get unhealthy way too quickly.  Pushing through bodies, you quickly walked along the painted walls of the club, lights flashing and dancing on the dark colour, easily finding the door to the exit. 

One push of the door and the chilly air of this Friday night rushed on your body, licking away the thin layer of sweat that had gathered near your hairline. Outside, the campus’ streets are animated despite the cold weather, groups of friends meeting before a week of midterms. 

It’s crazy how a bit of fresh air managed to clear your mind, filling your chest before you let the fog form in front of your tinted lips. You have to correct your own posture, back straight, head high, rolling your shoulders, bones screaming from your bad postures.  Walking away from the building, you take a few steps on the main street, wandering aimlessly until you’d cleared your mind, gradually managing to think about something else that isn’t him.  But it seemed your mind wouldn’t be left peaceful for long, the world wasn’t so good on you. 

It takes a few seconds for your ears to peak up the loud screaming from afar. At first, your ears peak up, only registering how loud they’re being before understanding that a fight is taking place some meters away from you. Screams and words you can barely make out, it’s clear both parties are already pretty intoxicated, both it seems nothing physical started, yet.  Humans are curious by nature, and it shows when a few people gathered around the two drunk students, you included, walking a bit closer. Only, when you see exactly who’s arguing do you drop your curiousness to worry and fear, you didn’t recognise Johnny right away, thinking he was still in the club. But without a doubt, there he is, his leather jacket gone as his tall and impressive figure towers and walks towards the unknown second party. 

“Come on, touch me!”, the stranger taunted your close friend. If there’s one thing you rapidly figured out about Johnny, it’s that, when he was sober, the brunette wasn’t quite aware of his strength. A lot like a puppy who grew up too fast and wasn’t accommodated to his grown body. Drunk Johnny, on the other side, wasn’t afraid of acting recklessly, and it made you fear for the unknowing partygoer. 

A small crowd had formed around them, mostly cheering on, blindly pushing the fight to go on. You couldn’t let it take place, you couldn’t let it happen.  In his drunken state, Johnny gave in, fist clenched in a way you knew he’d throw it at any second, your heartbeat picked up and before you knew it, your body threw itself between the two men, not thinking twice. In seconds, you couldn’t really process the multiple shouts of your friend’s name tumbling from your lips as you desperately tried to push his body away. Somehow, you find yourself behind him, tugging at the plain white shirt he chose to wear, hands gripping the fabric. 

Most likely because of the alcohol and adrenaline running through his veins, Johnny didn’t pay any attention to you, trying to reach the stranger again and again. 

“Hit me, hit me!”, obnoxious and way too cocky for his own good, the second party you quickly learned was named “Jinyeon”, was free of his movements and quickly getting railed up.  You couldn’t hold onto Johnny for so long, it seemed no one was really trying to actively break the fight, leaving you alone. Your grip on his shirt was quickly slipping away, your desperate voice calling for your friend again and again, but it seemed you couldn’t get past his drunken mind.  And, just as your fingertips were letting go of your friend, a promise of a fight you couldn’t stop after it’d start, Jiyeon’s screams stopped. 

For a few seconds only, before his drunken swears were directed towards someone else, someone you knew too well.  Red hood mask, a collective gasp and whispers followed the appearance of the one and only campus superhero. Visibly, he liked popping out of nowhere, you didn’t even fully register his presence before he was standing between the two dunk fighters.  Despite his smaller figure, he didn’t need to use any strength to stop the fight at once, both with the surprise he caused and by the string of spider web that stuck Jiyeon’s hands together. 

“What the fuck is that ?”, he screamed, desperately trying to get the unknown substance away from him, his watered-down senses causing him to tumble backwards. Only then, did his friends walked out of the crowd, finally deciding to put an end to everything as they helped him regain his balance and walk a bit away.  You, on the other hand, was stunned, to say the least. Your hands had flopped down to your side, it seemed the mere apparition of Spiderman had managed to sobber Johnny down enough that he didn’t try to throw a fit and mimicked your moves, arms falling at his sides with an open mouth. 

“You need to calm down.”, second, or maybe the third shock of the day, you didn’t really count. The hooded hero spoke, but his voice was audibly altered, making him sound almost like a robot, a layer of autotune on his original voice.  Lips parted, you watched as he hesitantly walked towards Johnny, a clear opposite to how confident he was when he restrained Jiyeon’s hands. 

“Are you okay ?”, he spoke again, body language visibly thorn between two extremes, only when Johnny nodded did his shoulders flop down, nodding to himself. 

“Are you ?”, you asked yourself, finally processing the entire situation. It felt surreal, you never thought you’d have to stop a fight, nor a fight with one of your closest friend. 

“Yeah. I need to walk a bit.”, was the only thing he said, taking a few steps away from you as his heart-beat slowed down. 

“And…And you ?”, it almost made you jump back when your attention turned from Johnny to the campus’ hero, he had walked a bit closer, fingers tugging at his gloves.  Finally, you took a long look at his appearance, he was just like in the pictures, still wearing the same hoodie and mask over his face. Only then, did it hit you.  There was your chance to thank him ! 

You probably had a weird expression on your face, his face lolled to the side, a small gasp left your lips. You almost touched his arm, but had to restrain yourself from getting too much into his private bubble. “Y-Yeah! Do you remember me ?” You couldn’t believe your own voice, almost shy and quivering, pearly teeth biting down on your lower lip. 

He took a few seconds to respond, for you, it seemed like he was searching back in his memories. After all, he saw you once in a dark street, a weeks ago. 

What you don’t know, is that Mark, under his thick mask, debates fainting amnesia, he really does. He recalls starting a phrase two times, before vomiting out a string of words like an awkward teenage boy on a first date. “I-Uh, yeah. I remember you.”

Oh, how Mark doesn’t know why his palms get sweaty even when they’re covered with gloves, nor why his heartbeat picks up now, when it didn’t while breaking the fight up, fight that included one of his close friends. Mark doesn’t know why his words get mushed in his brain, or why his mouth goes dry.  He’s too focused on trying to understand why to comprehend what you’re saying, he sees your lips moving, he hears, but his brain doesn’t process. 

“What ?”, he asks, almost feeling guilty for not listening to you, but he sees you giggling for a second, maybe because the whole conversation seems funny with his autotuned voice. 

“I wanted to thank you for the last time.”, you say again, a giddy smile taking over your features, one Mark decides he likes why more than the worried and scared look you had on your face moments before he arrived. Did he have the power to give you that smile, he only wondered for a quarter second. 

“Oh, no worries. You don’t have to thank me twice.”, Mark smiles under his mask, of course, your stubborn mind wouldn’t let go.  “No real-. Twice ?”, the way your face grows red in embarrassment makes him giggle, in autotune again, causing you to laugh at both him and yourself. “I was sure I didn’t the first time.”

“No worries ! Just, keep the gossiping down from now on.”, Mark wanted his phrase lighthearted and was ready to fly away with that, not giving you time to register what he said before he turned his back to you and, within a second or so, managed to shoot a string of web to a building and swing away as quickly as he came.  Leaving you alone, the weird feeling bubbling in your stomach left as rapidly when your mind connected two dots. Gossip ? How did he know about your gossiping about him…? He couldn’t have ears everywhere, of…did he ?  And that’s how, in the middle of a cold street, surrounded by tipsy friday night partygoers, your eyes grew twice their size. That’s how, with one sentence he probably didn’t think through, you unmasked Spiderman, you unmasked Mark Lee. 

You don’t know what entity took over you, but it craves closure, and a good shot to drown everything. 

When these two dots connected, you never felt so dumb in your entire life. Everything made sense, in a way, yet you needed a clear proof, or else you were going crazy.  The voice, the body language, the corpulence, the unending awkwardness every time the subject was brought up. That’s why he seemed so familiar, because it was Mark, someone you’ve know your entire life. How dumb you must’ve looked when he was hiding under his mask.  Even, why has he hiding this from you, from Johnny and Jaehyun of all people ? Or did they know ? And you were the only one in pure secret and ignorance ? You thought you two made up, but if he told your two friends and not you, it was clear the friendship you felt between the two of you was one sided.  And somehow, this hurts a bit too much. You blamed it on the trust you had finally given him, the multiple efforts you’ve made to go along, and nothing else. Yet, the confusion was a bit too intense, and it drove you to his dorm door. 

Lucky for Mark, he didn’t forget to lock his door. Lucky for you, dealing with three chaotic and forgetful guys means you can pick a lock. After all, it’s a simple dorm, your old credit card is enough to dislodge the small piece of metal and let you enter.  It’s dark inside, curtains pulled to the side, streets lights helping you adapt to the lack of light. For some reason, your eyes linger on his bed, it’s neatly made and you don’t have to fear that he’s sleeping under the covers.  Faint smell of his earthy cologne floats in the air as you fully enter the room and close the door behind you, locking itself in a second.  Now what ? Adrenaline brought you there and now what ? Feet dragging on the floor, you didn’t dare turn the light on. One hand softly brushing his blanket, your first thought goes to his desk. Surely, if there’s something to find, it must be here. Mark’s laptop lays there, closed but from the faint light, still on.  What are you doing ? You ask yourself a few times, you’re either crazy for thinking that your friend’s the neighbourhood superhero, or you’re crazy for snooping in your friend’s room.  Fuck it, now that you’re here, might as well clench your curiosity before Mark comes back from where ever he is.  One finger is enough to lift the screen, light pouring in the room, almost blinding you at how bright it is.  Your eyes take a few moments to adapt to the digital screen, your university’s page on the screen. The headline’s about Spiderman, you bite your lip before leaving your fingers on the touch pad.  It’s not a clear proof, maybe he’s just searching or reading about him. Mark has always been a huge superhero fan anyways.  Exiting the page doesn’t unleash more information either, the laptop’s clean, nothing special. His biology paper is here, multiple pages into it, notes here and there. After closing every page, guilt washes over you. His laptop wallpaper faces you, forces you into rethinking your actions, a selfie Johnny took a few weeks ago with your whole group in it. You smile brightly between him and Mark, both of them throwing peace signs as they usually do.  Who would’ve thought you’d end up as Mark Lee’s wallpaper, definitely not junior high school you.  You take a few seconds to regain yourself, guilt builds up alongside the stress you didn’t know you had, grabbing at your throat. Only now do you feel like running away, red alarms going off in your head as your head screams that Mark could enter at any moment.  Another side of your brain tells you to search a bit more, your hand goes down his open drawer and you feel around, not thinking that you might come across something weird, being in a boy’s room.  “What are you looking for ?”

The voice seems to come out of nowhere, you jump on your spot, the back of your hand hitting the wood of his desk. Turning back around, your mind goes blank, empty, no thought’s you’d even say. But you can clearly feel your ears getting red as you face none other than Mark Lee.  The young adult’s standing in the middle of his room, the cold breeze of the night coming in by the open window. Fuck, you didn’t even here it opening, how did he get it so quietly ? The light’s still off, but you can clearly see his mask in his fist, gloved fingers clenching it. Spiderman’s mask.  Yet again, your mind has two reactions.  “Mark…”, voice small, you just got caught red headed. He’s probably going to kick you out and tell Johnny and Jaehyun you’re crazy. Your throat goes dry as he doesn’t say anything, lips a straight line, eyebrows slightly furrowed.  He’s speechless, something you never thought he could be. The brunette shakes his head lightly, looking down and preventing you from seeing his face anymore, and there you decide you hate not being able to look into his eyes. As he moves his head from left to right, like he’s trying to shake himself awake, you notice his brown locks, sticking in different directions.  Mark disregards his mask on his bed, like a rag doll, lifeless on the white covers. 

“Mark ?!”, you voice calls him again, you dare address him again after being caught in such a sticky situation. He hisses, maybe sighs, you don’t really know. It’s the confirmation you needed, you were right. Your voice’s high pitched, shock clear in your voice. You know he knows, he knows you know. Thoughts, chaotic in both heads, yet no words are spoken. 

“Don’t tell anyone.”, is what he says first, voice soft and almost weak, you understand he’s exhausted and almost feel bad for making him deal with you, this, after a night of -what you think is- fighting small crimes and keeping peace on the campus.  You take a step back, you don’t know why. Maybe because realisation just hits you a second time without giving you a proper time out. He didn’t tell anyone, and you foolishly assumed he told Johnny and Jaehyun, you knowingly questioned your friendship with him. 

Maybe you stayed silent for a bit too long, the student finally dares looking at you like he’s the one trespassing, calling your name. 

“They don’t know ?”, you finally articulate, mouth putty, like you desperately need water. “They” doesn’t need to be defined, both you and Mark know who you’re talking about. All he does is shake his head no again, before letting his body fall on his bed.  Your mouth hangs open for seconds, like a fish. You feel like you just forcefully robbed someone from a huge secret, which, you’ve done. When you thought weight would’ve been lifted up from your shoulders, it just adds on. 

“Oh.”, is all your mind can find. It’s all you can say. What do you even do ? Tell him you had suspicions and decided to break into his bedroom ? 

“Yeah.”, silence feels the room. Awkward, tense, you’d be able to cut it with a knife, pierce through it with a needle. Strings in your heart pull and inevitably break when you remember last time such a silence took place with Mark was before you two met Johnny and Jaehyun and silently decided to get along. 

“I-.”, you try, but before a mix of different phrases and words can escape your mouth like a river, Mark stops you. 

“When did you find out ?”, he asks. He’s visibly stressed, fingers playing together before he eventually throws his gloves next to his mask, right leg moving up and down. You hate being the cause of this. 

“When we were outside.”, you finally find your words, pearly teeth repeatedly biting down on your -probably- red bottom lip. You had to lean against his desk, knees weak. “When you said to stop with the gossiping.” 

In another situation, it would be comical, how his pretty brown eyes widen in realisation, just like yours did. His palms rub his face and he audibly groans, a small “fuck”, tumbling from his lips. 

“I don’t even remember saying it.”, he confessed with a speechless laugh. Hearing it helps you relax the slightest bit, he doesn’t sound bitter, just dumbfounded. He says silent after that, though his eyes never leave your figure and you understand he wants to know more. 

“Then-…Then it just clicked, you know. The voice, the body language.”, -You’ve known each other for years- you wanted to add, but decided against it for the moment. The young superhero only nods, looking to the side for a moment. 

“So you decided to break in.”

It clearly wasn’t a question, more like another dumbfounded, almost hurt observation. You shift on your feet, balancing your weight from one side to the other, really, you look like a child who just got caught stealing candy before dinner. 

“I’m sorry, I just-…I thought-…I thought you told them and not me…”, your voice gets quieter as you speak, if you could, you’d disappear in thin air alongside your embarrassment. Eyes on the floor, you miss how his eyes get bigger, before shifting under his frowning eyebrows.  You’re ready for another row of uncomfortable silence, but Mark has too much to say to let it go so easily. 

A gasp leaves his lips when he registers what you just told him, his bed shifting as he stands up. The young men’s sudden move catches you off guard, your eyes taking in his figure as he smoothly lifts his left hand towards the wall on your right.  There, you clearly witness his powers for the first time. From what you assume is his wrist, the brunette shoots a sting of spider web. It’s so fast you almost miss it, but the substance lands on the light switch, turning the light bud on immediately. 

You’re almost blinded by the light, taking seconds to adjust to the sudden change. You understand that he’s mad, maybe even disappointed. You, yourself, are disappointed with yourself. you could’ve taken the issue in such a different way, but now was too late.  

“You really thought I wouldn’t tell you ?”, the disappointment, clear in his voice, has the power to pull at your heart for some reason.  You don’t even know how to answer. Yes ? You thought he didn’t. 

“N-No…It’s just that-”, your throat tightens, oh how you hate this feeling, your heart starts pumping faster, lips going dry.

“Don’t lie to me, you thought I told them and not you. Who do you think I am ?”, 

“I’m sorry, I don’t-”, that’s when you finally dare to look up at him, cutting your sentence halfway. With the lack of light, you didn’t notice the cuts on your friend. Blood on the corner of his lips, a small cut on his cheek, it’s your turn to furrow your eyebrows. Your eyes travel down, so does Mark’s. His knuckles are bruised, a deep shade of purple on his milky skin. 

You feel gutted, it hits you. He is Spiderman, he puts himself in danger, he could get severely hurt everytime he flies out his window. 

“What happened ?”, you’re almost on the verge of tears at this point, bottom lip trembling as Mark looks up at the ceiling, a deep sigh expanding his chest.

“Had to break another fight.”, he simply says, like it’s nothing. 

Your heart tightens, you don’t want to cry, not now. Blinking your tears away, you almost manage to escape the discussion, turning around to clumsily fumble with the papers laying on his desk. “Do you have anything to clean yourself up ?” 

From the sound his bed makes, he probably sat down again, letting his body fall on his covers with another sigh. “Under the desk, in the white bag.”  You have to clear your throat, nod slightly as you bend down and take the said bag. 

“We’re friends.”, he finally tells you as you seat next to him, and oh how guilty you feel. From all the times you, him and your two other friends hung out in his very room, you don’t remember Mark’s bed being this small. You have to move closer anyways, one of your knees against his thigh as you face him. You look down and get busy with the first aid box, it seems he used it a few times already and you can’t help but picture him, in the dead of the night, having to clean his cuts and bruises when his friends think he’s peacefully asleep. 

“Look at me.” His voice’s softer, he probably knows you could cry at any point now. You do as you’re told after letting a few drops of liquid soak a cotton ball, finding yourself looking right into his brown eyes. 

“We’re friend, right ?”, this time, he asks, and you almost laugh and sob at the same time, a breathy sound coming from your lips. Mark sounds like a small kid on the first day of school trying to make friends, maybe a bit like when you two first met. 

“We’re friends.”, you tell both him and yourself before lightly tapping the cotton on his cheek, he smiles, your heart flutters. The young superhero doesn’t move, he doesn’t even acknowledge what you think would at least be a small sting. “Doesn’t hurt ?” 

“Why do you sound disappointed ?”, he asks with a laugh, one sound you like way better. “Small cuts heal quickly. The whole power thing, y’know.”

“Oh.”, is the only thing you’re able to let out, unconsciously leaning closer to rub at the cut, who you discover is just a bloodstain now. A pout on your lips, you have to look at his cheek a little bit closer. “Lucky.”

“Yeah.”, he says softly, but lets you finish your job anyways. Soon enough, his skin is clean, and as he said, there’s no cut underneath. You don’t think anyone knows about this side of his power, after all, the university’s newspaper doesn’t know a lot either, feeding itself from witnesses. 

“Thank you.”, you finally tell him, voice hushed as prepare another cotton. 

“Hm ?”

“For not getting mad and y’know…Kicking me out.”, you don’t look at him, turning your attention towards another cotton ball you soak in product now that you know it won’t hurt him. He laughs at that, air fanning over your face, you smile. 

“You could’ve, I don’t know. Threw me out the window. Covered my body with spider webs. Or- Can you bite ?” Mark laughs again, genuinely amused by your small monologue, so amused he doesn’t notice your fingers under his chin, nor does he notice how naturally he lets his face rest in the palm of your hand. 

“I can, but it won’t do anything special.” 

“Hm, interesting. Making a mental note for the school’s newspaper.” you joke, the mood is a lot less tense, Mark has this everlasting tired smile on his rosy lips, dusty cheeks and lazy eyes as he silently watches you. 

“Shut up.”, he breathes out, and you don’t answer to that. Finally, the silence that takes place isn’t as awkward or strange as it was, you press the cotton ball at the corner of his lips when he decided to shut up and stop talking, your heartbeat quickens. 

“Ouch!”, he whines as soon as the liquid touches his skin, visibly flinching away from your hand. “Oh, fuck, sorr-”, lips parted, eyes wide, you fumble to find a clean cotton ball in hopes of whipping the excess. 

“-m joking ! Y/N, I’m okay, I was just joking.”. No matters how many hours you spent with the brunette, or how many years you’ve known him, you won’t ever get his humour sometimes. Shooting him a death stare, hands still deep in his first aid kit, you’re the one who frowns. “Why would you do that, fuck.”

“This one’s because you wanted to tell on the school’s news, you snitch.”

“I was jok-”, you’d rather not finish your sentence, by the way he’s looking at you and smiling a bit too much for a bruised man, you know he just wants to annoy you. Fuck it, you have to grip his cute face in your hand for him to stop moving every minute. Rising on your knees, the lack of light makes you tilt his face upwards to get a better view. “Wait, don’t move.”, high school you would throw up as you move one of your knees, planting it between his legs, your palms get sweaty. 

“Let me take care of you, hm ?”, the sentence cames out a lot quieter than you wanted it to be, but after all, you’re close enough that the whisper rings in his ears, you have a lump in your throat. Mark’s lips part, just for him to close his mouth less than a second after, and he visibly swallows.

“O-oh, yeah. Okay.”, and that’s when you understand. That’s when you understand how close the two of you are and yet, you don’t pull back, you don’t really want to. His body heat and perfume strangely seem to calm you down. You’re almost body to body, you feel him breathe, you feel him move his legs the slightest bit under you, you see his pupils grow a bit more. 

The honey brown of his eyes seems to disappear, and you can’t decide if it’s because of you, or because of the lack of light in his small dorm. 

You don’t dare think it’s because of you, could it be ? You don’t know yours are as blown as his, and it’s definitely not because of his room’s darkness. 

Two clueless kids.  You press the cotton a second time on the corner of his lip, gentle as you clean the blood. He still has the habit of biting his lip, you think to yourself. He almost looks like he wore a cheer coat of lipstick, uneven and blood red. Soon enough, you’re cleaning nothing, simply stroking as you stare down.  

When did he become so attractive ? It’s when you catch yourself asking yourself this very question that you decide it’s time to back away, his scent and the warmth of his body does nothing but pull you in even more and you don’t think you can deal with that at this very moment. 

Mark, on the other hand, thinks something else.  As you’re about to pull away, completely detach your body from his and hopefully shake the haze he pulled you in out of your mind, his own hand gently wraps under your jaw. It’s a firm, yet delicate grip you can’t register right away because milliseconds later, his lips crash against your own. It starts off hesitant, trembling and unsure lips against your bottom lip. He tastes like the melon lollipops he likes so much, no signs of iron from the blood previously on the corner of his lips. For a moment, Mark doesn’t move, Mark almost pulls away when he realizes what he’s doing. 

He’s kissing you, the young hero doesn’t remember the first time he thought about actually doing it, that’s how long the brunette has been wanting it. It’s when his lips detach from your own, scared he crossed the line that you chase after him. You chase after his lips, you’re scared of it being a one time thing, you want more than the small kiss he dared to give you. Taking advantage of your position, your hand sneaks behind his head, fingers already finding purpose in his hair, tilting his head back as you dive in.

Clumsily, your mouth moves against his own, capturing his bottom lip. Your knees grow weak, body shivering when his hands dare to hold your hips. He’s unsure, hands resting on your hip bones, scared to move without your approval. You give it clearly once you softly bite on his bottom lip. The brunette quietly gasps against your mouth, and you dare to present your tongue, the pink muscle meeting his own in a breathless, wet, kiss.  Out of breath, you both have to pull away. Your reddish lips reflect his own, matching glossy eyes, it’s probably then that Mark loses it and pushes aside his shyness around you. Quickly, his fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans, using his grip on the clothing piece to force your body down.  Your knees don’t need more to let your body fall onto his lap, or rather, his thigh. Strong and firm under your core, it takes all your will not to desperately grind on him, but your body aches to do it already.

“Waited so fucking long to do this.”, he confessed against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips on the side. His words make you blush a bit too hard, blooming flowers in your heart, your fingers tighten their grip on his locks. Such a simple gesture, yet it managed to make your old enemy moan, a stained sound he tried to hide by busying himself on your neck, painting dark petals. He sucks lightly there, and with this action only, it’s your turn to moan out. It’s a breathy sound, but it gets Mark so worked up his hands slide to the small of your back, resting just above your ass.

“You should’ve done it sooner.”, you tease him a bit, he can’t see the small smile on your face, but he definitely notices when your hips drag themselves against his thigh, losing your self-control. Another simple gesture, driven by pure lust, but it gets Mark’s eyes wide, his jeans a lot less comfortable. He groans, it comes deep from his chest, fuck it, he thinks.

Suddenly, he’s on top of you. Your mind’s so hyper focused on him that you follow his movement when he leans forward. Your back softly hits his bed, hair spreading on his pillow in a halo, the neighbourhood hero’s eyes linger for a moment on the two purple marks he left on your untouched skin, he decides he wants nothing more than to ruin you while having your body as close as possible to his.

“Pretty.”, it’s a simple murmur, so quiet you almost missed it, his right thumb softly draws circles on the two purple petals he left, like he couldn’t believe he was the creator, his left hand pinned just next to your head to support himself. You smile at yourself at the soft manner, but your smile quickly drops to have your lips parted when his thumb moves across, his hand now fully wrapped around your neck.

It gets your skin burning, legs closing for some relief as you feel yourself getting wetter, and Mark certainly notices your body’s reaction. Mark, or someone else. You don’t really know who’s facing you when his lips tug upwards in a devilish smirk, you’ll understand after that his newly found powers also brought a bag of confidence. “Fuck”, is all you’re able to mutter when his grip slightly tightens. He doesn’t even restrict your air canal, but it’s enough for you to understand what he’s thinking about.

“Mark.”, you call out, voice so small he just hums with another knowing smile. “Touch me.”, and it’s all he needs. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lowers his body towards you, making it harder for you to breathe. Resting on his forearm, his eyes never leave your face, he details every feature like he won’t see you ever again after this, he looks at you like he can’t get enough. You, actually do the same. You never noticed how cute his nose looked, small and button-like. However, you noticed how sharp his eyes looked, but never how one of his eyelids was more defined, or how good his new undercut looked.

Arms linked behind his head, you bite down on your bottom lip when Mark uses his knee to part your legs a little more, enough for him to get comfortable between your thighs. This time, it’s your turn to initiate the kiss, bringing his face towards yours with your arms. He’s more than happy to bend under your needs, smiling softly against you as he kisses you back.

This time it isn’t as hesitant, his lips dance at a rhythm you match perfectly, diving deeper before meeting your tongue again. You could easily get addicted to the taste and feeling, his saliva coats your taste buds when he licks into your mouth. It’s an exchange that gets sloppy, messy. Sighs, moans, and a whimper from you when finally, finally, his fingers toy with the button of your jeans.

“Can I ?”, he asks already knowing the answer, his forehead against your own. Throat dry, you nod quickly, so quickly it’s almost funny. Your hips rise up to help him take the tight fabric off of your body. “Good girl.”, Mark praises as he grips the fabric and easily slides it off your legs.

Strangely, you don’t feel exposed, you don’t try to hide, and even if you did, you both know Mark would’ve used his knee to part your legs again. You appreciate the way his eyes linger on your bare skin, right hand running on your outer thigh.   That’s when you remember the mismatching underwear you chose to wear that day, not thinking you’d end up in such a situation. Mark’s hand finally travels to your inner thigh, thumb stroking just next to your burning core.

“Baby, you’re leaking.”, the nickname rolls out of his tongue so naturally, it rings in your ears, makes your head spin a little more, you never thought you’d hear it. You downfall when his forefinger and middle finger press against your white panties, just so he can punctuate and prove his words. And yes, you’re drenched, the simple touch under the fabric is enough to have you clenching around nothing, silently anticipating his next move.

Thankfully, the college student isn’t planning on teasing you too much for tonight, he’s aching to finally touch you, feel you arch for what he has to give you. His fingers hook under your undies, swiftly taking it off your body to completely expose your core to him. “Off. Take it off.”, you’re babbling, at this point, hands fisting the fabric of his thick top, tugging at it. Mark finds it amusing, how weak you already are, begging just for him to take his top off, but he plays on it anyways. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Mark. Take your shirt off.”

And he does, hands gripping the fabric from the back to pull it off over his head, and quickly disregards it on the floor of his room. And, fuck.

Fuck, it’s the only word your mind can form, how ethereal can he look.

His pale skin reveals itself under the shy moon, the light makes his jaw and collarbones look sharper, his muscles and faint abs look carved in marble by Rodin himself. You think his nightly workouts on top of buildings really helped his figure, and your hands can only lock behind his back, fingers caressing his curved waist.

Quickly, your soft touches turn into sharp, red lines on his milky skin when he inserts a finger into your core without a warning. A gasp leaves your lips, his digit starts moving quickly, helped by the wetness between your legs and soon enough, another is added. His rhythm turns slow and steady, your walls hugging his fingers as you adjust to them. It manages to steal your breath, leaving you a panting mess under Mark’s body. His lips find purpose on your neck again, determined to decorate your skin even more. His breathe is ragged, like he’s the one being pleasured, “That’s right, let me hear you.”

You both forgot about Mark’s neighbours and how thin the walls are, soft moans filling his room, the sound of the brunette’s wet kisses for your ears only. And, when he’s satisfied with your sounds, the superhero adds a third finger and picks up the rhythm, one that gets your back arching, eyes fluttering shut, biting your lip at how he stretches your walls. “So fucking tight, you can barely take my fingers.”

The men cooed, you barely register what he says, you never took Mark for the dirty talking type, but you definitely won’t complain. Not when he’s looking at you the way your core and his fingers connect like he’s about to eat you up. 

“Fuck, Mark, faster!”, you hands travel from his back to his hair, hips raising in an attempt to feel him a little more.  The light strain from the stretch is still there, but it’s a small amount of pain added to the pleasure, a mixture you love too much, a mixture you decided you’re addicted to when your old enemy pressed his thumb to your bud of nerves. The familiar knot in your stomach is threatening to burst at any moment, waiting for Mark to give the last blow.

“’m close.”, you realize, as Mark does. In seconds, his left hand pins your lower half to his bed, his lips find yours again when he understands how loud you could get. The kiss’ messy, teeth clashing, your moans and sighs breaking the exchange every few seconds. Mark decides he might be in love with your moans, a few flicks of the wrist, and his fingers reach deeper, thumb presses harder until you come undone underneath him.

You don’t really remember what you said, a mess of tangle words, swears and Mark’s name, but you do remember the slight taste of blood in your mouth from how hard you bite your lower lip. Mark’s fingers don’t slow down the slightest bit, his mouth leaves yours, wanting to watch your face as you come around his fingers.

“Fuck, look at you.”, he muses when he takes his fingers out, watching in awe as he finds them glittering from your essence under the low light. “Already so fucked out, just from my fingers, hm ?” And you are, slightly breathless, eyes glossy, lips red.

You were about to complain and whine about how empty your felt, until your mouth hangs open as Mark takes his fingers into his mouth, moaning around his digits like a starved moan finally getting a meal. That’s when you decide, you want him, you need him.

It takes him by surprise, how you rise to your knees and make him sit on his bed. “Are you okay ?”, he asks, like he’s scared he went too far or harmed you by accident. “Wanna suck you off.”, is all you tell him before your knees find to floor of his bed.

“Oh.”, and it’s his turn to lose his words, eyes hooded as he watches you slide down and gently start working on his jeans. Mark might cum right then and there when you take his pants off, the hand palming him through the thin layer of his boxer, humming at how hard he feels under your fingertips.

“Don’t tease.”, he warns, voice a bit deeper, but he isn’t fooling you, the impatience in his eyes is way too obvious. They never leave your figure when you take this very layer off of his body, judging your reaction. You think you choked on your saliva. The young men’s member might be average in weight, he’s above in length, something you didn’t expect, but again, won’t complain about. Your body also reacts by itself, you remember that you’re not wearing any underwear, and you don’t want to leak on his floor.

“Bab-.”, he calls to catch your attention, his voice getting caught in his throat when you overtake him by wrapping your hand around his dick. “Oh, shit.”, the breathy curse tumbles from his lips as your hand moves up and down, using the pre-cum already leaking from his head. His head automatically rolls to the side, his tongue poking out before he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, sharp eyes impatient. “Thought you wanted to suck me off ?”, he asks, breathless, challenging.

He wanted to play, push your buttons like he used to in high school, but now, you have the upper hand. “Come on big girl, take i-“, you overtake him a second time, tongue flat running on his shaft, finding how his jaw drops and voice cuts a bit too amusing. “Fucking slut.”, is all he manages to articulate, chuckling at your antics. You, on the other hand, wasn’t expecting such words, a choked moan leaves your lips before you busy your mouth by taking Mark’s head between your lips, but he doesn’t miss your reaction.

His hand quickly finds your hair, freeing your vision from any locks that could block it, before slowly guiding you down his length. “Oh, you like when I call you a slut ?”, it’s a rhetorical question you’re not able to answer to anyways, you can only moan again against his dick as he eases himself into your mouth. “Dirty girl. Taking me so fucking well, god.” Jaw relaxed, he feels heavy on your tongue, your eyes might start tearing up.

His praises only make you more determined to pleasure him, you let him control the pace but hallow your cheeks, sucking on his head every time he guides your head up. “That fucking mouth, you were made for this, weren’t you ?”, he groans. His nails lightly scratch your head before he loses his composure, the steady and average rhythm he set turns rapid, his hips meeting your mouth halfway.

It’s when his squishy head hits the back of your throat that you have to breathe through your nose a bit harder, gagging around him every now and then. And, apparently, it drives Mark crazy. When you finally look up, innocent eyes planting themselves into his, you wished you had a camera to immortalize this very moment. The young superhero’s head thrown back, neck and Adam’s apple exposed, abs clenching as he’s getting closer and closer to his own high, his groans slowly turning into full moans. It’s melodic, beautiful sounds you don’t think you’ll ever get enough off. But, as your head starts moving faster, disregarding your sore throat and independently from his rhythm, he stops you. You whine when your mouth’s left empty, robbed from the want to see him come in your mouth.

“Wanna be inside you.”, his finger curl under your chin, helping you get up, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate, his hands are on your hips, before travelling under your shirt.

In a swift motion, he throws your body on his bed once again, before he towers you.

“Y/N, do you want this ?”, he asks, and how careful he is now compared to the way he spoke before makes you genuinely smile. You take things into your own hands, quickly taking your shirt off, leaving your bra on for Mark to take off. “Mark.”, you call out softly, and your arms like behind his head again. He hums, the college student looks like he’s in a daze, eyes wondering on your covered breasts. His face comes down once again, nose nuzzling against your cheek as he takes a deep breath, and that’s when you realize how fast your heart is beating. Despite that, your lean into his touch, closing your eyes, “Fuck me, wanna feel you.”

It’s all he needs to take things into his own hands, a shaky breath leaves his lips as he nods to himself. He can’t tease himself or tease you further, at this point, he just wants to be inside of you, be one, and take you. So, he does. His right hand aligns himself with your entrance, his eyes leave your figure for a split second before he finds your eyes again. You have to break the eye contact when he finally enters up, head stretching your walls even though his fingers prepared you moment prior.

Your eyes roll back as he gradually slides in, “There you go, fuck.”, sweet nothings are whispered into your ear, his right arm sneak under your back to keep you close, he wants to mold his body against yours, feel every breathe you take and sense every vibration from every moan, feel the sighs you let out die on his skin. His left forearm planted next to your hand, he used his leverage and chase after your lips again before moving his hips.

You, feel everything, every vein, especially when he slides out and rams in. You can’t keep up with the kiss, your head is thrown back, your body almost follows the movement and hikes up his bed, but he holds you close. You understand he’s been waiting to do this for a while, with the way he lets his cock move in and out of you in a slow pace, but still manages to thrust deep, so deep.

“You feel so fucking good. O-h god, Mark, babe.”, you cry out, in pure bliss, as Mark hides his face in the crook of your neck, the way you moan his name gets to his head a bit too quickly, it poison his mind and makes him lose any self-control he had. He who wanted to take things slow at first doesn’t keep up with his internal promise for long, he craves to hear more of your moans, more of his name falling from your lips in lust. The brunette picks up in pace, he gets rough, hips slapping against your own.

You’re surprise his bed isn’t moving more than that, actually, you’re glad. His bedframe would’ve banged against the wall of his room, your mouth agape. Your moans flow freely, maybe a bit too freely for Mark’s neighbour’s and integrity, god knows he would’ve let you be as loud as you wanted if he could.

“Tsk.”, a tired smile stretches his lips, his left hand finds your throat again and you welcome it with appreciation, letting the young man tighten his grip on the side of you neck. “Little slut is so loud.” You shake your head from left to right, you didn’t want to be, one of your hands leave Mark’s body so you can bite down on it and hopefully muffle your noises. But, the young men doesn’t like this idea so much, his left hand now wraps around your wrist, and before you know it, it’s stuck to his bedframe.

You blink, did he just ? Did he just use his powers on you ?

From the slight smirk he has on his face, on the white, web-like substance around your wrist, he just did.

“I never said I didn’t like it.”, he muses, before his thumb sneaks in your mouth, forcing your mouth open. Then, he gives one particularly hard thrust, one that actually sends your body up his bed, one that has you moaning loud enough that his entire floor probably heard.

“Holy sh-. Do that again.”, you could beg, at this point, eyes watery, and he doesn’t hesitate do to so. Your second orgasm comes so quickly, clenching around him.

“So greedy, you’re gripping me.”, he articulates between clenched teeth, you know he’s as close, but you’re so lost in him that you just nod, you stop trying to free your hand and grip his dark locks, trying to archer yourself to something, anything. Half opened eyes search for his, you mumble about how close you are as his left hand finds the bed sheet. He doesn’t hide in your neck, Mark lets you hear exactly how good you make him feel, he lets you see him. The thin layer of sweat on his hairline, his locks messy from your hands, the rose hue over his chest, the red lines your created creeping on his sides.

“Make me feel so good, fuck.”, you babble, Mark pulls you closer to his chest, “Come around me, wanna feel you.”, and it’s all you need. Like an order your body registers in this split second, you come a second time, a second orgasm that leaves you breathless. The air is knocked out of your lungs, you’re sure the entire building heard you moan out Mark’s name.

On the other hand, the young men follows quickly behind you, only needed that one last clench for him to let the sinful liquid spill inside of you. He comes in a few long, moaning frantically. Visibility, it leaves him tired as well. Mark doesn’t even take his shaft out, his body lazily lays on top of you without crushing you, a reassuring weight on top of you own tired body. The both of you just lay there, tired and maybe a bit choked, surprised, in a good way. It’s when Mark chuckles next to you that you dare and look at him. Your hair’s probably a mess, lips red and wet, makeup ruined, but Mark still runs a hand on your cheek, a sweet gesture you lean into, reassured. “What ?”

It’s almost comical, how his eyes turn from sharp and lust-filled to the sweet and joyful eyes you grew up around, the one that remind you of home. He looks up at your wrist, still firmly stuck to the bed frame, you almost forgot about it.

“What do you call a spider into BDSM ?” 

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

#spiderverse project #bed of spiderwebs #neovisioned #spiderman!mark #spiderman!nct #mark lee #mark lee smut #nct #neo culture technology #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct u #nct u smut #super m #super m smut #mark #college!au #mark smut

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

Stories I haven’t read yet, but clearly need to put on my ever-expanding List.

~*~

Welcome back queen [Thank you, it’s so lovely to be back!] if ur still doing follower recs I gotta recommend I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett it’s soooooooo good

[This one was actually recced to me by two different people, the other of whom said, “ Maybe I'm crying a little so I feel like a should recommend ‘I would wait for a thousand years’ by bleuett on ao3.”]... it’s def. on my List!

I would wait for a thousand years

by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian)

Summary:  During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair.

“Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.”

“I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.”

“And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.”

~*~

I just read a great fic by aisthuu "every love story is a ghost story", didn't see it in your recs so wanted to recommend it! LWJ is a guqin composer and teacher, buys a cheap guqin off eBay which ends up being attached to WWX's spirit from canon era. It's bittersweet, LWJ deals with Lan's homophobia (implicit in a Lan way) and his feelings towards the ghost. This is author's only ao3 fic and honestly I don't remember how I stumbled upon it, but I'm happy I did and hope you will enjoy it too!  [I’ve recently read this one, and loved it!]

every love story is a ghost story

by aisthuu (M, 59k, wangxian, my bookmark)

Summary:  The man is in Lan Zhan’s bed. Did they—he begins to wonder, eyes trailing to where the man’s body lies under the blanket. Had Lan Zhan—?

Then the sleep-fog clears and Lan Zhan realizes that the young man isn’t quite opaque around the edges.

“You’re a spirit.”

The spirit narrows its eyes. “I’m so much more than that.”

(Lan Zhan buys a guqin off eBay for a suspiciously low price, only to find that it’s haunted. And now there’s a ghost in his bed.)

~*~

Ok so I absolutely have to rec "see you yesterday" by glyphic. It's a wip, but it's currently at 101k so there's a whole lot there, and it's terrible and wonderful and beautiful all at once. The way the backstory of canon events is adapted to the modern-with-cultivation setting is brilliant, and then there's the amnesia, and then there's the time loop. This fic lives permanently rent-free in my brain.

see you yesterday

by glyphic (M, 101k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  

Wei Ying 21:09 hey lan zhan what’s the weirdest way youve died

Lan Zhan 21:11 Falling encyclopedias.

Wei Ying 21:12 omg no way that’s so rude turning books against you???

Lan Zhan 21:13 A betrayal I will never forget.

On Halloween night, an exiled demonic cultivator and a Lan disciple get stuck in a time-loop, find each other, and try to figure it all out.

~*~

If you are looking for recs for yourself I absolutely love (the complete!) story Just as the Snow Melts by draechali on AO3. It's a canon divergence where everyone lives, even WWX! ~ @airmidcelt

Just as the Snow Melts

by draechaeli (T, 67k, wangxian)

Summary:  Like a snowy mountain top in spring the residents of the Burial Mounds trickled down the mountain and joined the flow of society.

“I went to the Burial Mounds,” Lan WangJi said.

“Ah, yeah… I’m sorry Lan Zhan,” replied Wei WuXian, “I hadn’t thought anyone would come to visit. I am still not sure how it happened; I brought A-Yuan to Yiling to play by the river and then ended up somehow teaching a bunch of children swimming and writing along with him.”

~*~

Hello! It's come to my attention that you have not as yet read Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation! Please do! It's the only thing that gave me joy during 2020 😆 like proper belly laughs and disney villain style cackling. It is a wip, and it is long but so so worth it!! The author has reworked the entire canon through these message crystals and still conveys complex characters despite the tricky format. It's just so good!! Highly highly recommend it! ❤ ~ @theladypeartree  [Oh!  I’ve been subscribed to this one, and know that @swaglexander-the-great is a reliable provider of Hilarity, so I’m excited for it to be finished!]

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation 

by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 49k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  The Untamed universe is exactly the same, except everybody has magical crystals that have a suspiciously familiar messaging system. The story is pretty much the same as the show, except everyone lives!! (so minor changes).

or in which Wei WuXian tries his darndest to date Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng possibly has a aneurysm, Jin ZiXuan is still the most awkward human alive, and Xue Yang makes me write some VERY cursed things. Written in chatfic format! :3

~*~

Chomrafy on AO3 deserves love and encouragement; she’s written a body of compact, poetic, and eloquent shortfics each of which can stand alone, but that comprise an intricately cross-referential and mostly internally-consistent universe. They’re grouped as chapters in works according to theme; for example, “in cupped hands” focuses upon Jin Ling and his second-generation baggage; “Departure in Autumn” portrays the last years of WWX’s first life. Follow the tag “Chomrafy’s MDZS shortfics.” [I don’t see this tag?]

in cupped hands

by chomrafy (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary:  Of secrets, of futures, of love. A Jin Ling-centric collection of 200-word fics.

Ch.1: Jin Ling repays a debt (JL, JC, & WWX). Ch.2: Jin Ling and a ghost in the mirror. (JL & JYL) Ch.3: A matter of friends (JL & the other kids) Ch.4: In this house we don't keep dogs (JC & WWX) Ch.5: In the end, he remains silent (JL & uncles) Ch.6: A first night hunt, of sorts (JL & the other kids) Ch.7: Jin Ling, forgiving, forgetting (JL & LXC & JGY) Ch.8: Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling argue (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.9: Jin Ling and his father (JL & JC) Ch.10: Jin Ling speaks up (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.11: Jin Ling and a piece of home (JL, JC, & WWX)

Departure in Autumn

by chomrafy (not rated, 6k)

Summary:  Four perspectives. A steady march to the end.

Ch.1: Because if anything happens to them, Wen Qing would never be able to heal with these hands again. Ch.2: As long as this is still home, Jiang Yanli will wait as long as she needs to. Ch.3: Five times Jiang Cheng reaches for Wei Wuxian, one time he turns away. Ch.4: Whether the road is broad or narrow, bright or dark, they would have to keep walking. Wei Wuxian digs Wen Qing's grave.

~*~

Hello, hope all is going well. I don't have an ask, by I do have a recommendation. I read this fic a while ago and found it again. I just wanted to recommend this for everyone. Let me know what you think please. Thank you. [Oh!  This one’s in my To Read list, but  I’d forgotten about it.  Mmmm, fox!wwx and dragon!lwj.]

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers

by Yukirin_Snow

M, 274k, wangxian

Summary:  He was a mischievous fox spirit, wreaking havoc where he went, about to depart on a journey that would span centuries.

He was a heavenly prince, a proud dragon destined to ascend the throne to become emperor.

Neither expected their paths to collide over the span of three lives.

~*~

I forgot if it was your blog 😥 that recommended “Bestseller” (when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528316/chapters/51318766)

But OMG IT WAS HILARIOUS!!! I LOVED IT!! And if it wasn’t your blog, I’m so sorry for how weird this sounds 😭😭😭😭 I just loved this fic so much that I have to tell it to someone 😢 [It’s on my List, but I haven’t read it yet!]

Bestseller

by pupeez4eva

M, 8k, wangxian

Summary:  He had written the book to prove a point. It was never supposed to be a big thing, and he certainly never intended for everyone — Jiang Cheng, Zewu-Jun, the Juniors, literally everyone— to be reading about his sex life.

Oh God, he definitely needed to make sure Lan Zhan didn’t find out about this.

(Or, when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit).

~*~

I’d like to rec On Your Marks, Get Set, Bake! by @blackwiresgrowonherhead

It’s one of my absolute favorites and I laughed out loud so many times when reading it

on your marks, get set, bake!

by BlackWiresOnHerHead

G, 41k, wei wuxian & juniors

Summary:  Jin Ling resumes thumping on the door to room 721, and the small collection of freshmen starts chanting “Senior Wei! Senior Wei! Senior Wei!” with increasing volume until finally Wei Wuxian opens the door.

“Yes?” he says with his widest, most innocent eyes.

“Senior Wei!” demands Lan Jingyi, shoving himself to the front of the group. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re a contestant on this year’s season of The Great Gusu Bake Off?!?”

--

Several months ago, college student Wei Wuxian secretly competed in the most popular reality show in the country. The show starts airing in the fall. The freshmen in his dorm collectively lose their minds.

~*~

If you're in the mood for v. short ridiculous fun fic, may I suggest My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio by x_los It's 2k modern cultivators AU, featuring WWX calling LWJ's sword Bitchin' [omg I’m laughing so hard] and I think it's more fun going in blind?

My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio

by x_los

T, 2k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Wangji finds he doesn't even need to call for help for Wei Wuxian to come running.

#follower rec #wangxian fic rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET #wangxian #mdzs

[anna-justice]

Now or Never - 4

Summary: It’s been 10 years since they were juniors and lot’s has changed, but other things have stayed exactly the same. (Sequel to Lost or Found)

... 4 - Replay ...

Hailey pushed her door shut behind her, throwing her bags on her kitchen counter. She put away all the food she bought, grabbing a pen and a notebook and taking a seat at her bar. Hailey was a planner, she always had been, but it had gotten worse as she had gotten older. So, when she felt like things were out of her control, she sat down and made a list of everything she could. Today, it was meal planning. 

She filled the whole page, listing each meal and all the ingredients that go with it, the cook time and how likely it was to end up as leftovers. Almost all of it were things that Hailey knew Jay loved, things that he hadn’t had in a long time. 

She was grasping, she knew she was, but she was living in an eternal limbo. She was exhausted, she hadn’t slept in days, but she couldn’t dare slow down. She couldn’t dare let everything catch up to her. Hailey was running from years worth of demons coming back for her, and if she took a chance to breathe, she’d have to face them. 

As she looked down at her finished list, she felt tears prickle her eyes. She dropped her head in her hands and pushed the pad and paper aside. She fought the urge to laugh, her boyfriend - the only man that she had ever loved and it seemed like she was ever going to love - was coming home, and she was making a meal plan. 

What else was she supposed to do though? If the last four years had seemed foreign, then she was living on a different planet now. She had no idea what the next few days, weeks, months, had in store for her and she was terrified. 

Her phone caught her eye on the counter, and she felt a small grin grace her face. She picked it up and dialed a familiar number. The line only rang once before they answered, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” Hailey said, sighing out. There was something about her Aunt’s voice that had always calmed her. 

“Hi sweetie, how are you?” 

Hailey took a deep breath, with everything going on, she hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone about Jay’s highly anticipated homecoming. “Really great actually.” She said, finally. A smile gracing her face once again. Jay was coming home, no matter how many times she told herself, it still didn’t feel real. 

It didn’t matter what they ate for dinner or what her apartment looked like, he was coming home to her, finally.

“Good, I’ve been thinking about you.” Her Aunt said.

“I have something to tell you.” Hailey drew out, barely able to contain her joyful laughter. 

“Okay?” 

Hailey squealed - an action reserved for her Aunt - and the words tumbled out of her mouth, “Jay’s unit was recovered, he’s being shipped home on Tuesday, Will and I are going to pick him up-”

“What?” Her Aunt asked, cutting her niece off. 

Tears started to pool in Hailey’s eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in days, “He’s coming home.” 

“Oh my God,” Trudy said, her voice breaking. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes!” Hailey laughed, the sound followed by Trudy’s own. 

Trudy gasped, “Hailey, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you, both of you.” 

“Me too.” She was so happy, she didn’t think it was possible be this happy. There were things that rivaled it: the first time Jay told her he loved her at the dance when they were sixteen, the day he came home from his first deployment, the day they she graduated college, the day of Adam and Kim’s wedding. She had had so many happy moments, but none of them measured up to what she was feeling right now. “I just can’t wait to see him.” 

“Well I’d love to see him, and you too. So give me a call when you two are all settled in and we’ll make a plan.” Trudy and Randall have moved to Hilton Head Island a few years back after they both retired, Hailey saw them a few times a year. Including during the summer when all of them would drive down and stay with them for a week. 

The two woman talked for a while, catching up, making plans, circling back around to the idea of Jay coming home several times. A smile stayed on Hailey’s face the whole time, despite anything going on in her life, Trudy seemed to always know what to say. That never changed. 

Hailey barely had time to set her phone down before it started ringing again. This time it was Kim.  “Hello?” 

“Hailey.” 

Hailey stood from her stool. “Kim, what’s wrong?” 

“Hailey, I need you to come here like right now.” Hailey could hear her panic clearly, she was already grabbing her car keys and her purse. 

“Okay, I’m on my way.” She stalled at the door. “Kim, what is going on?” 

“Hailey...its Erin, she’s back.” 

…

“Why on earth didn’t you all tell me?” Hailey asked, standing in Kim and Adam’s kitchen. “Don’t you think I had a right to know this? Especially with everything going on right now.” She ran her fingers through her hair, leaning against the counter. 

After walking in and finding a crying Kim and a very stressed Adam, they showed Hailey the bathroom, Then spent the next 10 minutes explaining everything they had been keeping from her. 

Kim took a step forward, “We found out right before Will called us, Jay seemed ore important.” 

“Jay is more important! But this puts his life in danger, it puts all of our lives in danger.” Hailey said. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. We’re sorry.” Adam said, glancing between Hailey and his wife. “But more importantly, what are we going to do?” 

Hailey nodded, beginning to pace. “Well, we learned a long time ago that calling the police was a bad idea, but,” she gestured to herself, “I think we are covered in that department. We could call Beth Sanders back, tell her what happened.” 

“Hailey it says not to talk…” Adam says. 

“We aren’t teenagers anymore Adam!” Hailey snaps, she pauses, takes a moment to catch her breath. She wasn’t a yeller or a fighter. “I-I’m sorry, I just. I don’t know, there isn’t a correct answer. Obviously she isn’t out of prison yet, we would know right?”

“Right.” Kim said, nodding.

Hailey pinched her nose, “Then someone must be working for her. Or she’s blackmailing someone like before, like what she did to Kelly.”

“Or she escaped.” Adam said, causing both Hailey and Kim to gape at him. “Think about it, it might not be in the media yet, hell maybe no one even knows.” 

Kim rushed to the front door, making sure it was locked. It didn’t make that much of a different, but it gave her some peace of mind. Her hands were shaking, “Why would she appeal her case just to escape?”

“Maybe she just couldn’t take it anymore? She couldn’t wait for a parole hearing, so she escaped and decided missed her little playthings.” Adam said with disgust. 

Hailey stared at the counter, tracing the granite veins, running every possible idea through her head. “Or she found out about Jay.” She said, her head snapping up. “Think about it. She’s been there for 10 years. She’s earned good behavior or she’s figured out how to sneak things. She could have seen a newspaper or seen the news, decided that a parole hearing would take too long and broke out. She’s always been crazy about him, it’s what started it all in the first place.”

Adam stood there in shock, Kim scoffed, “Hailey I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.” 

“So he’s leaving a war zone and coming home to a new one,” Hailey, dropping her head in her hands on the counter. “Perfect.” 

Kim rounded the counter, placing a hand on Hailey’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll get through it. We’ve done it before.” 

Hailey stands up, nodding, looking defeated. “I-how?” She asks, “We barely did the last time.”

“I honestly don’t know, but we will.” Kim looks to Adam for support. 

He just shrugs, “We have too.” 

“Yeah…” Hailey agrees, she squeezed the hand on her shoulder. “I gotta make some calls, can I use the guest room?” She asks. 

“Of course.” Kim says, giving her a quick, but necessary hug.

Hailey makes her way into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She checks the entire room for bugs, checking behind photos and under pillows, really anywhere they could be. Then, she closes the blinds and dials a familiar number. They answer after just one ring. “Hello?”

“Garrett, hey, I need your help.”

... 

An hour later, Hailey was sitting in her living room while Garrett paced around the room, a pained expression on his face. “So, you’re telling me that in high school, one of your best friends faked her own kidnapping and death, killed a random girl, blackmailed your classmate into breaking into yourself and choking you, locked you in a garage with a running car, shot Adam and then tried to kill you in basement, all because you stole her boyfriend?” He paused, turning to face her. 

“You forgot stalking us and threatening us for 3 months but yeah, pretty much.” She said shrugging. “And actually she did all that because I “stole her friends,” I didn’t steal her boyfriend until after she locked me in a garage.”

Garrett huffed, sitting down next to her. “Details.” He leaned back against the couch, running his hands over his eyes. “Hailey, I’m your partner, why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?” 

“I don’t know,” Hailey said, running the past year through her mind. It wasn’t a light or funny story for when their bored on a stakeout, and wasn’t exactly something she spewed when she was drunk, it just never came up. It was one of those things that you shove down and hope it disappears. “They aren’t exactly fond memories.” 

Garrett picked up his beer off the coffee table, taking a long drink. “Fair enough.” He looked over at his partner, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail like usual, an old academy sweatshirt covering her. On the surface she looked like the old Hailey, but he could see the pieces of hair falling out and how swollen her eyes were. She wasn’t the normal Hailey. “Hailey, I-I’m sorry you had to go through that, especially that young. No one deserves that,” 

Hailey gave him a soft smile, nodding her head and dropping her gaze to her lap. She knew he meant well, but the look on his face was one of the main reasons that she never told anyone about her past. She was a big girl, she didn’t need anyones pity. “Thanks, that means a lot. But, I’ve come to terms with it all. I thought I had moved on, but, the bitch is back, and I need a plan.” She stood up, grabbing her laptop off the sofa table across the room. “Jay is coming home and Kim and Adam want a baby, and Kev and Vanessa want to get married, and dammit Erin is not going to ruin everything again.”

She sat back down on the couch next to him, and Garret smiled at her, he admired her more than anyone else in the world, even more now. “Then we’ll stop her.” He tried not to think about the way his chest tightened when she said Jay’s name, it wasn’t fair to either of them. She deserved to be happy, he just thought that eventually it would be him to make her just that, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give up on that. 

“I have no idea how.” She logged in to her computer, completely unaware of the way her partner was looking at her. “First we need to find out if she’s actually still in prison.” Garrett scooted a little closer to her, so he could see the screen. 

Hailey looked frustrated as she typed aggressively, it wasn’t really getting them anywhere. “Hailey,” Garret said, grabbing her attention. “You are the strongest person I have ever met, if anyone can figure this out, it’s you.” He said, watching as her tough guy facade finally fell before him. “I’m lucky that I get to call you my partner.” 

She eyed him, his honestly and heartfelt-ness coming out of left-field. They usually never talked like this. But, she let it go. Chalking the comment up to the many lines they had already crossed during the evening, she was bound to feel a little strange. “Thanks, me too.” 

The rest of the evening was spent deep in thought, developing several different ways things could go wrong and how to fix them. Somehow they ended up sprawled out on her couch, Garrett sound  asleep and Hailey wide awake, eyes darting between him and the floor. She had finally let someone else in, and she had this horrid feeling that it would come back to bit her in the ass. It would come back for both of them. 

…

A/N: Holy crap, it has been SO LONG since I have updated this story. I’m so sorry you all, it’s been an absolutely crazy few months and I am happy to say that I have finally found the inspiration to write again. I’ve decided that I will update this story every Wednesday, so hopefully the accountability will keep me on track. Thank you so so much for reading. Have a great night <3

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