Pepe lay sprawled across the couch, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips as he clutched a blanket around himself. His forehead glistened with sweat, and his cheeks were flushed. “I swear, I’m dying,” he groaned, his voice muffled by the fabric.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “You just have a fever, Pepe. You’re being dramatic.”
“Just a fever?!” He turned his head to look at you, his expression exaggerated. “I can’t even remember the last time I felt this bad. I need… I need you here.”
“Right here?” you asked, stepping closer.
“Yes, like, right next to me,” he insisted, patting the space beside him. “I need my personal nurse.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. “Your personal nurse is here. What do you need?”
He patted the space beside him, his voice a soft whine. “Come here. I need you close to fight off this… this illness.”
You chuckled and slid under the blanket next to him. “You’re such a baby.”
He snuggled closer, resting his head on your shoulder. “But I’m your baby,” he said, his tone a mix of playfulness and genuine need.
You reached for a cold cloth and gently placed it on his forehead. He sighed contentedly, leaning into your touch. “See? This is exactly what the doctor ordered.”
“More soup?” you asked, sitting up slightly.
“Yes, please, cariño,” he replied, his eyes lighting up. “And can you bring it back with a hug? I think I need extra love today.”
You giggled, getting up to prepare the soup. When you returned, you found him dramatically sprawled out on the couch, looking as if he were about to faint making you shake your head and smile.
“Your soup, my king,” you said, handing him the bowl.
“Thank you, mi ángel,” he replied, taking a small sip before dramatically swooning back against the couch. “How did I get so lucky?”
“Maybe it’s the fever talking,” you joked, but your heart fluttered at his words.
As you fed him, you could see the mischief return to his eyes. “You know,” he said between spoonfuls, “this isn’t so bad. I could get used to this kind of treatment.”
“Only when you’re sick,” you laughed, but deep down, you loved being the one to care for him.
After he finished, you settled back into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Promise you’ll stay here until I’m better?”
“Always,” you whispered, feeling the warmth of his body and the soft rhythm of his breathing. “I’ll take care of you, Pepe.”
As he drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but smile. Even when he was sick, he still found a way to make your heart swell.
_______________________________________
my first time writing an xreader LOL, missing my man Pepe and I know I'm not the only one so Pepe girlies here you go! (this was requested so hopefully you lot will like it!)
loosely inspired by the new spider-man movie. you’ll see. made up my own antagonist bc i do what i want.
spider-man!anton x (f) reader. friend of a friend to lovers. oral sex (giving and receiving). sub!anton. anton’s kind of a loser in this. anton’s pov mostly. the total opposite of a slow burn. wingman!bff!sohee. angst with a happy ending.
sum. anton’s been crushing on you for months and his best friend sohee can’t stand to watch him yearn like a loser anymore, so he forces him to talk to you. as it turns out, you might be into him too. but with mind man, a supervillain, trying to get into his head, anton might not be able to spare you from what it means to be a part of spider-man’s life.
Shotaro’s party at his house, ANTON POV, 8:33 PM
Until a few seconds ago, Anton had no idea at all that you were coming.
Anton had been looking around—not for you, because he was certain you would not be there—but for the beer. “I think Shotaro’s running low.”
“Yeah. And you’re flying low. Might want to fix that before your girl gets here,” Sohee said with the same voice you would tell a friend it was expected to rain tomorrow. He was casually scrolling through his phone.
Anton’s head snapped towards him. “What?” It was the loudest a whisper could be while still maintaining its whisper quality. “I thought she wasn’t coming!”
Sohee shrugged. “She wasn’t. But Shotaro says she changed her mind.”
Anton fixed his pants, his fingers hastily working to zip them up. Then, he ran them through his hair. “Does my hair look okay?” he asked. He had not particularly dressed himself up tonight. A pair of jeans and a campus hoodie usually sufficed for Shotaro’s parties, but not if you were there.
Sohee glanced up from his phone with the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “Relax, dude, it’s a party, not the Met Gala. She’s probably not going to be particularly fancy herself.”
She looks fancy in everything she’s in, Anton was tempted to say, but he withheld. He knew Sohee would only tease him and call him a simp.
Within the hour, you came in holding more beer than one person ought to have been carrying, and Anton would have gone over to help had Shotaro not beat him to it. He only watched instead. You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen by far. In jeans and a tank top, you had an otherworldly charm to your beauty. The way you smiled sent his heart fluttering up into the heavens. And your eyes, they were like nothing else, bright and warm as the sun on skin. Whenever you looked at him, he felt as though he was melting away.
Wonbin shot up from the couch. “You came!”
“Yup,” you said. “Shotaro decided to infringe upon my free will.”
What Wonbin must have heard was, “You kidnapped her.”
Shotaro took the accusation in stride, literally, as he gathered everything from your hands and headed for the kitchen. “All I did was introduce her to this beautiful thing called community.” He broke into the crowd and disappeared.
Anton watched your eyes dart across the room and brighten with familiarity as you recognized the face beside him. “Sohee,” you called, “Why are you hugging the wall?”
Sohee glanced up from his phone, grinning. “I like hugging the wall. We’ve been waiting for someone to bring beer. It’s better than getting drunk off that abomination of a punch Shotaro made and kissing the floor.”
You laughed. Then, you laid eyes on him. “Hi, Anton!”
Anton put up his hand in a shy wave. “Hey,” he replied quietly.
You did not linger. You said your greetings and went to join Eunseok and Wonbin on the couch, where they quickly roped you into playing video games.
“Real smooth,” Sohee teased.
“Shut up,” Anton told him. He did not do well with strangers. Perhaps you weren't a total stranger, but you were Shotaro’s friend more than you were his. Even Sohee knew you better than he did.
The first time Anton saw you he had been making a beeline for his Music History class after hurriedly shedding his Spider-Man gear behind one of the the less frequented buildings. A couple of morons had decided to kidnap a politician’s son thirty minutes before Anton was due to leave. The incident culminated in a shaken but otherwise unharmed eighteen-year-old, two prison-bound idiots webbed to a crashed car, some terrified civilians, and a few scratches Anton’d had no time to think on. As he was bolting across the pavement, he saw you sitting at a bench with your friends Willow and Krystal, and he almost gave himself whiplash looking at you.
He remembered hoping that he would see you again so that he could prove to himself that you were not something his mind had deliriously fashioned up after hitting his head a few times too many. He even found Sohee after class and described you vividly, the way your hair framed your face, how your nose fit you, how your lips were moist. Sohee went on Instagram and pulled up a profile, asking, “You mean her?” Anton had spent that night scrolling through your profile. He didn’t mean to be a creep, but the sight of you fascinated him and he wanted to engrave it into his memory.
And the day after that, he had gone to Shotaro and asked him to tell him everything he knew about you. Sohee had told him that you two were friends, and Anton had seen for himself that Shotaro was following you online. Shotaro advised that he should talk to you himself if he wanted to get to know you, but Anton was terribly afraid of that going wrong. What if he said something that scared you away? What if you thought he was weird? What if you decided he was boring?
So Anton never said as much as a word to you unless you spoke to him first. At least that way he knew he was not likely to make a fool of himself.
But tonight Sohee was tired of watching him brooding in the corner. “You’re ruining the vibe, man,” his friend told him. Half an hour later, you set down your controller and went off towards the kitchen. “This is your chance. Go talk to her.”
Anton protested the idea immediately. “Nope. Not doing it.”
Sohee rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are. I can’t keep watching you eat your heart out for this girl you refuse to talk to. You’re a cool, charismatic guy, but how is she supposed to know that if you don’t open your mouth and speak?”
“When I open my mouth, nothing comes out.”
“Have you even tried?” Sohee asked. “Come on. Ten minutes. If you can’t figure out what to say in ten minutes, I’ll consider you incorrigibly doomed and never bring it up again.”
Against his will, Anton wound up meandering towards the kitchen where he found you on your phone, leaning against the counter. “Hey,” he forced out. “Just… needed a break from the noise.”
You glanced up from your phone. “Oh, okay. Cool.” You glanced back down.
“Yeah. Cool.” Anton was already regretting this. What was he supposed to say now? “Wonbin’s gonna be sad you bailed on him. He looked like he was really getting into it.” I’m just making it worse.
“Wonbin gets a little too into it,” you said. “Besides, I’m not a video game person anyway.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Anton said. “I just like to chill and listen to music.”
You put your phone away. “What kind of music do you listen to?”
Although Sohee was still in the living room, Anton could still hear him in his head. She’s engaging. Don’t blow it, Sohee’s voice was saying. “Pretty much everything. I’ve been exposed to a lot of stuff over the years. Lately, I’ve been on a Neo Soul craze.”
“Neo Soul?” you echoed, smiling.
Did I choose the wrong dialogue option? Anton asked himself. “Yeah…? Why do you say it like that?”
You glanced him over. “No reason,” you said, but he could see the amusement in your eyes. “So, do you like D’Angelo?”
Anton willed himself to relax. “Are you kidding? He had something really rare. I’m always in awe with his vocal layering. Actually, I’ve been listening to ‘Another Life’ a lot lately. One of the best songs ever created.”
“‘Another Life?’” You laughed. “Do you have a secret crush I don’t know about?”
Anton’s heart was pounding. “What? No. No. That’s not why. I just… like the music.”
“That’s fair.”
He couldn’t tell if you believed him or not. “What about you?”
You thought about it. “I think my favorite song is ‘Me and Those Dreamin’ Eyes of Mine.’ I love a song that’s beautiful and yearnful, you know? And he has a way of keeping everything from sounding empty. Stuff like that amazes me. I hear great songs and just wonder about the process behind it.”
That answer surprised Anton. Most people he met didn’t question music that deeply. “Have you ever made music?”
You turned shy. “Well, yes. I’ve written and produced a few songs before. But I’m not an expert or anything. I’d like to learn more.”
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I can’t believe this. “I’m, uh, a music student. I produce songs in my free time. I’ve been practicing since I was in middle school,” Anton said coolly. “I could show you what I know one day. If you wanted that.”
“That’s really nice of you,” you replied softly.
Her voice is beautiful, Anton was thinking. This was the most he had said to you ever. Just as that realization came to him, his special ringtone went off, drawing his attention to the phone tucked into his back pocket. “Sorry, that’s my little brother. He only calls me when it’s important. I should go, but, uh, maybe we can pick this up later?”
“Yeah. Sure,” you agreed. “Do you want my number?”
Anton’s mind grounded to a halt. “Yes.” But at the same time, every second he was here, someone was out there wreaking havoc across New York.
“I’ll have Shotaro text it to you,” you said. “Bye-bye, Anton.”
The way you said his name always made his chest feel warm. “Thanks. See you later.” He grabbed his backpack and went out through the back door.
Anton had two ringtones: one was his regular ringtone that sounded when someone was calling him, but the other was connected to a feature Sohee had built into his phone that alerted him of when an urgent crime was happening somewhere nearby.
Sohee was the only person who knew Anton’s secret identity, and that was only because he had been waiting for him in his bedroom when Anton climbed in one day in high school. In the end, this proved beneficial for Anton; not only did Sohee cover for him when he was out of excuses, but he helped him design tools that facilitated his Spider-Man endeavors.
Anton donned his Spider-Man wear and swung out into the night. It was windy around this time, but he liked the way the air buffeted his face through his mask. The city was swallowed in the shadows where evil lurked unseen, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It was his job to rid this city of these criminals that sought only to destroy and harm, and his responsibility to make sure that people felt safe and protected in their home.
Per the app Sohee had built, some burglars had broken into a woman’s house and ran off with thousands of dollars worth of jewelry. They were on the road now in what a neighbor had described as a dark blue-ish sedan. Most likely they had not gotten far.
He was only glad it wasn’t Mind Man tonight. Petty criminals posed no real threat to him, but Mind Man was something else entirely. When they fought, Anton had the sickening feeling that Mind Man was fighting him to understand more than he was fighting him to win. Every time, Anton got the better of him, but the victory never left a sweet taste in his mouth. And with every new duel, Mind Man grew stronger and less predictable.
Anton threw himself into the air over and over. In the sky, he felt untouchable. He liked to get up as high as he could and throw himself off rooftops, dive, pull himself up, and swing on and on and on. There was something about it that gave him a rush. The way the world would swallow him up and then he’d launch himself out of its mouth before it could sink its teeth into him. When he was up here, nothing could hurt him.
He wished other people could feel like this. Free, like a bird… or a spider. Every now and then when Anton was having a hard time he just took to the sky and swung around until his head felt clearer and his heart felt lighter. Up here, there was no need for thinking or feeling. You could just exist.
Only a few minutes had passed before a sedan swerving recklessly caught his eye, blue in color. “Got you,” he muttered to himself. He swung with alarm now. Any more of this and they would cause a wreck. He threw himself down onto the hood of the vehicle. “Stop the car!”
The driver had a battered face and scruffy beard. “Look who it is,” he said gruffly. “Get off my car or I’ll kill you, Spider-Man.”
“I wouldn’t really recommend that. Can we try talking it out over coffee? If you pull over, there’s a nice coffee shop near—”
The man in the passenger seat took out a rifle and started shooting at him.
Anton leapt onto the roof of the car, dodging the bullets as they flew into the air. “Okay, so no coffee. Maybe beer? You guys like beer?”
“Kill him!” shouted the driver.
“Okay, okay, point taken. You know what they say. Don’t bring beer to a gun fight.” The first thing he did was disarm shoots-a-lot in the passenger seat. He reeled the rifle towards himself with a web, used another to block the barrel, and a final shot to bind it out of arm’s reach of the passenger.
When that was done, he dropped back down onto the hood. “You!” the driver snarled. He turned down the corner at break-neck speed, scarcely missing the others cars on the street.
Anton was dismayed. “Holy shit, man. Where did you get your license?” He climbed onto the passenger side of the car and shot a web inside, binding the driver’s hands to the steering wheel.
“You piece of shit! Get this off me!”
“No way, José,” Anton said. Another strand of silky web tugged at the driver’s foot, away from the gas pedal. The car gradually began to slow to a halt.
The man in the passenger seat barreled out of the car and bolted off into the street. “Wow. Really?” Anton said. Just as shoots-a-lot ran beside a wall on the right end of the road, Anton blew another shot that sealed him against the brick.
There were sirens howling behind them. After a few moments they came from around every corner, blocking in the car.
“Got them right here for you, officer,” Anton said. He looked between the two criminals, both locked in place. “You guys are ready for GTA 6. Too bad you can’t play in prison.”
“Thank you, Spider-Man,” an officer said as he came out of his car.
“No problem. Same time tomorrow!” Anton launched a web and pulled himself up and away. There was always a new danger.
The campus courtyard, ANTON POV, 2:57 PM
You were reading something on your phone. “Man, does Spider-Man have a job? Or school? They’re saying he caught, like, a dozen dudes last night.”
Shotaro shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe that is his job.”
“Do you think Spider-Man is making minimum wage?” Sohee asked with a smile.
You giggled. “I wonder who he is. Do you guys think he’s hot?”
Anton made a strangled noise.
Everyone’s heads whipped towards him. “Anton? You good?” Shotaro asked, brows stitched with concern.
Anton forced a smile. “No, yeah. Just choked on my saliva.”
Sohee was grinning from ear to ear. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “That’s an interesting question. But the mystery is the whole appeal. It would be boring if everyone knew what he looked like. But who knows? Maybe he’s an absolute beast beneath the spandex.”
Shotaro thought about it. “I mean, you can tell he has a nice build. You have to be in good shape to do all that swinging and stuff,” he agreed. “I never thought about whether or not he was hot though.” He turned towards you. “Why? Do you want him to be hot?”
You shrugged indifferently. “A lot of girls our age think he’s hot. Have you opened any social media platform ever? There’s even Spider-Man fanfiction.”
Anton felt like he was going to die. “I don’t think people should write creepy stuff about him. He’s just some guy trying to do the right thing.”
Sohee ignored him entirely. “Do you read Spider-Man fanfiction?” he asked you.
You shoved Sohee away. “No, I don’t read Spider-Man fanfiction, dude. I’ve moved onto Ghostface now.”
Sohee laughed incredulously. “Ghostface? Really? A serial killer that murders all his friends for fame and glory and whatever the fuck? That’s who you have the hots for?” He shook his head. “Women are so weird, I swear. You gave up a masked vigilante for a masked murderer.”
“I guess she’s got a type,” Shotaro said, “masked, mad and mysterious.”
“Mad?” Anton echoed.
“I think you have to be pretty mad to dedicate your life to trading blows with the Bad Guy of the Day.”
“Ghostface isn’t real, though,” you were saying. “Spider-Man is.”
Anton was in disbelief. “So because Ghostface isn’t real, he’s fair game… and you prefer him to Spider-Man who spends his time making New York City a safer place? Why?”
You shrugged again. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Spider-Man. We need him out here. But when I was reading Spider-Man fanfiction, I was, like, seventeen. Sometimes you just move on from things. And I’ve been watching a ton of horror movies lately,” you explained. “Who do you guys think would win in a fight? Ghostface or Spider-Man?”
“Spider-Man, hands down,” Sohee replied as if it were obvious. “Ghostface is literally just some random with a knife. Spider-Man is Spider-Man. Any attack Ghostface tries, Spider-Man can have him webbed against the wall easily.”
You bit your nail. “He can web me against the wall.”
Everyone’s head turned. “What?”
“Kidding, kidding,” you replied, thoroughly unconvincing. “I just don’t agree. How would Spider-Man beat Ghostface? Ghostface is always fast and strong too. And you can’t really defeat them until they’re dead. When has Spider-Man ever killed anyone?”
Anton was stiff. “I mean, what makes Spider-Man great is that he doesn’t have to kill anyone to be helpful. He doesn’t believe in needless violence.”
Sohee snorted. He’s enjoying this, Anton thought to himself. “Dude, you’re defending him pretty hard. You got a crush on the guy?” he asked knowingly. “She does make a good point, though. Ghostface plays by his own rules.”
“That’s true,” Shotaro agreed. “Ghostface is ruthless, but I think Spidey could kill him if he wanted to, or had to.”
Thank you, Anton was saying in his mind.
“Whatever,” you replied dismissively. “I need to see what Spidey’s working with underneath the suit before I decide if he’s smashable. If he’s jacked but ugly he has to keep the mask on.”
Anton almost walked into Shotaro when you said that. When will this conversation be over?
Sohee was tickled, but he said nothing. For now.
Shotaro, none the wiser, continued to entertain the debate. “There’s just no way he isn’t fit.”
Anton looked to Sohee for help, but the amusement on his face signaled that he was utterly alone. “Guys, you can’t just judge someone’s worth by their body. I mean, what if he’s got a nice personality?”
You rolled your eyes. “Come on. I’m not saying he should be put to death if he’s ugly, but would you fuck someone you don’t find attractive?”
Sohee was almost choking with how hard he was restraining himself from laughter.
Anton couldn’t meet your eyes. “There’s more to attraction than just looks,” he said softly. “Personality, chemistry…”
“I don’t think this is helping your case, man,” Sohee butt in. “In order to judge Spider-Man’s personality, she would have to know him. But she doesn’t.”
Anton sighed. “I don’t know why I’m even arguing about this. I’m just saying that looks aren’t everything. Attraction is made up of a lot of different components, and not everyone needs to see someone’s face to feel a connection.”
Shotaro was touched. “That’s sweet, man.” He patted Anton on the back. “Whoever Spider-Man is, I’m sure he’d appreciate you coming to defend him this hard.”
“I just wouldn’t let an ugly man touch me. I have dignity,” you said abruptly.
“No, yeah,” Anton said. “You should do whatever makes you comfortable.”
Sohee finally burst into laughter. “This conversation just made my whole day, because I’m pretty sure I bombed my exam.”
Shotaro shook his head. “Ease up on the guy. He was just trying to defend Spider-Man’s honor.”
Anton smiled, as if finally understanding the lack of gravity of the dialogue they were having. “I’m just saying we should give him the benefit of the doubt. What if he has a nice voice?”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind the next time I have a conversation with Spider-Man,” you droned.
Sohee chuckled. “So, who’s your favorite Ghostface?”
You paused to consider it. “I love Stu and Billy, like there’s just something about the magic of the original that I don’t think can be replicated, but I also love Ethan. He’s hot and I’m a sucker for a shy dork.”
A shy dork. Anton looked away.
“I guess I can see the appeal,” Sohee said. “He’s got the whole quiet thing going on, like he’s harmless but a little unhinged beneath the surface. That your thing?”
“I mean, I don’t want to date someone who’s an undercover psychopath,” you said, “but I can handle a little peculiarity. Who wants a serial killer?”
“A little peculiarity. Yeah. Makes sense,” Anton murmured.
Shotaro threw him a curious look, but said nothing. “Anyway, we should all have a movie night again and do a horror theme this time.”
“I’m so in,” Sohee said. “I love watching this girl pretend she’s not scared and then scream out of nowhere.”
You looked annoyed. “I don’t scream. I just make a little noise.”
Anton’s lips twitched. “I believe you.”
“Don’t,” Shotaro said. “The first and last time I watched a movie with her, she couldn’t sit still. And then she kept yelling: ‘are you dumb?’ ‘Look behind you!’ ‘Why aren’t you running?’”
Sohee laughed. “We’re having a movie night for sure. Let’s do my place. Bring your own snacks though.” He turned to Anton. “You’re coming, right?”
You glanced over at Anton who was walking on your far left. “Yeah, you’re coming. Right?”
It was nothing when Sohee had asked him, but when you did it, he felt like there was no way he could refuse. “Yeah. Yeah. For sure.”
You grinned. “Try not to get dragged away this time.”
For a second Anton was afraid he had done something to plant suspicion in your mind that night, afraid that you knew something you should not have known… but then he realized he was being paranoid and there was no way you could have figured him out for a certainty. “I’ll try my best,” he said.
Movie night at Sohee’s house, ANTON POV, 7:22 PM
All four of you had gotten cozy on the sofa, Shotaro, you, Sohee and Anton, in that order. A bowl of popcorn was being shared by each pair.
Anton was not normally one to watch horror films, but he supposed it wasn’t so bad with three friends in his company. And besides you had wanted him here. That alone was more than enough reason to stay.
He was hardly paying the movie any mind anyway. His attention was on you. You became restless when the music grew dramatic and tense, looked away from the screen when something particularly brutal was happening, and yet you seemed totally enraptured by the disturbing contents of this frightening movie. He watched how you clung to Shotaro for comfort and winced when a character took a mortal blow. He noticed how you shrunk when someone you had liked was mangled and butchered beyond salvation. He saw the way your eyes were fixed to the screen with a new intensity during the final act.
What Anton did not expect was for you to ask him halfway through the second movie of the evening, “Anton, do you wanna grab me another water?”
It was a strange request, mostly because he was the furthest from the kitchen, but he did not deny you. “Sure,” he said. He got up; he walked behind the couch to avoid blocking the screen; he went to the kitchen; he grabbed a bottle of water from Sohee’s fridge; he walked back and handed it to you; he sat back down.
You smiled. “Thanks, Anton.”
“No problem,” Anton replied quietly. He forced himself to look at the television mounted on the wall. Something in him died when he felt your fingers brush against yours during the handoff. It came back to life when he heard you say his name.
By the end of the third movie, everyone seemed to have tapped out and had their fill of blood and gore for one evening. Anton and Sohee were hovering in the kitchen. “That could have meant something,” Anton was saying, “or it could have meant nothing. What do you think? I’m overthinking it, right? She was just thirsty.”
Sohee groaned. “My brother, she asked you to get her water. Not me. Not Shotaro. You. She could have asked anyone else in the room, but she asked the guy she barely knows who’s sitting on the other side of the couch. Come on, man.”
Anton didn’t want to get his hopes up over something as insignificant as a bottle of water, but he had to admit that it felt intentional.
Before he could respond, he heard your voice from behind him. “Anton,” you called out, emerging from the living room. “I believe I’m owed a conversation.”
You reached for a family sized bag of barbecue chips that you had brought with you when you came through the door. “Want some?” you asked Anton.
“Yeah,” Anton said softly. “I want some.”
He ignored the way Sohee was grinning at him as he followed you wherever you were taking him. You wound up at the top of the building, a faint breeze making Anton’s hair rustle like leaves in the wind. He watched you settle down near the edge of the rooftop, the city sprawling beneath his feet with a lifelike quality of its own. He lowered himself beside you but kept a respectful distance.
“How do you do that?”
You opened the bag of chips and held it between you both. “Do what?”
Anton looked around. Darkness loomed around them, but the city lights kept everything luminous. “Make everything easy,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for real for months. And you walk up and offer me chips like it’s nothing.”
You chuckled. “I can be shy too,” you confessed. “It’s just that when I meet someone shyer than me, it makes me feel bold. Maybe I’m a predator or some shit. And you’re my prey.”
Anton paused in the middle of reaching for a chip. Then, he burst into laughter. “Prey? That’s what I am to you?” He shook his head. “Should I be nervous?”
“Maybe,” you said. You leaned in. “It makes me feel in control.”
For a small moment Anton felt his heart stop. His eyes darted to your lips, but he forced himself to look away. “In control?” he repeated. “That sounds, uh, dangerous.”
You giggled and pulled away. “So, do you have female friends?”
The question caught Anton off guard, but he was not compelled to lie. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I have a few. I mean, I don’t have a ton of friends in general, but some of them are girls and some of them are guys. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” you said, your voice too high-pitched and easygoing for him to believe you. “Do you like kids?”
Anton couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being lured into a trap of some kind. “Do I like kids? I mean, yeah? I have a little brother. He’s not, like, a little kid anymore, but I remember when he was. And I used to help kids learn to swim, back in high school.” He stared at you warily. “Is this a trick?”
“Nope,” you said. “So, like, have you ever heard of artists like SOPHIE? BAYLI? Underscores? Destin Conrad?”
“I know all of them except BAYLI,” Anton said. “Why? Should I get into them?”
You giggled. “Absolutely, she’s amazing,” you told him. “So hypothetically… let’s say you’re really mad at Sohee. Like, he’s teasing you and he just takes it too far one day. And you’re already in a shit mood. What do you do?”
Anton knew for sure he was being tested now, but he said nothing about it. “Well… if Sohee pissed me off, he’d know because I’d stop talking to him for a while. I’d just take a moment to myself to chill out and think on it. And then when I’m ready we can talk it out.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it really?”
You didn’t answer. “So, like… what are your plans for the future?”
Anton glanced off into the distance again. The future. What good had it ever done him to make plans about something so uncertain as that? When he was a boy, all he had cared about was being good enough at swimming that it would open doors for him. Then when he was in high school, a spider bit him, and it changed his life forever.
Now as far as he knew, his future was here, protecting the city he called home by night while by day he was figuring out what it meant to be Anton Lee. “Music. I want to produce and write. Maybe put out my own stuff eventually, but I’m more comfortable behind the scenes.” He had spoken so much about himself he felt as though he was being interviewed. “What about you? What do you want to do?”
You shrugged. “I just like… stories. I love writing and reading. Listening to music too. There’s just something about something that can take you to another world. Even if it’s just for an hour and then reality grounds you back to earth.”
Your words struck a place deep inside him that Anton visited often. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” He met your eyes. “I’d like to read your stories sometime.”
“Maybe one day you can,” you said in a small voice. “Did you grow up here? I love New York.”
She’s shy when it comes to talking about her art, Anton noticed. One time was a coincidence, but twice was a pattern. The thought made him smile. He would have to be gentle about it, then. “I was born in Boston, but I grew up here, yeah. This is home for me. You?”
“I just came here to get away,” you said. “I’m from a really boring city in the south that we shall not name. After graduating high school, I kind of just wanted to be far enough from home that driving is impractical.”
Anton wondered what could have driven you to want to be that far away, but he didn’t pry. Not now. “You’re in the right place, then. Nobody really looks twice at anyone here.”
“It’s really nice,” you said, glancing down at the bustling streets below. “What would you change about it?”
Anton followed your gaze. “What would I change?” he repeated quietly. He sighed. “The rent prices, for one. It shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg just to basically live in someone’s closet. And I’d… make it safer. It can be really dangerous sometimes. I want people to feel like they can walk home without looking over their shoulder.”
You hummed. “That’s reasonable.”
Anton’s heart felt lighter. The conversation had drifted somewhere easy. “You’re really easy to talk to,” he said after a pause.
“Thanks,” you said, grinning. “You too. Although we should probably head back down.”
“You’re right.” Even as he said that, there was a hint of reluctance in his voice. “Sohee’s gonna think I fell down the roof.” He stood up and outstretched his hand.
“Relax. I think I can still stand up by myself.” You accepted his hand anyway.
Anton pulled you up gingerly, his breathing trapped in his throat as he felt your fingers, soft and supple, close around his own. He held them for a second longer than he should have. “Just being polite,” he murmured. “You know, between you and me, I wasn’t in a hurry to go back down.”
“I know,” you said with a teasing smile. You led him down anyway.
“Look who decided to join us,” Sohee said when the two of you returned. “Were you doing a tour or what?”
“Oh, yeah. A very thorough tour at that,” you said as you went to set your barbecue chips on the table. “Had to make sure he saw all the bird shit. He said that was his favorite part.”
Anton played along. “No, yeah. The bird shit really helped set the vibe.”
Sohee crossed his arms. “Right. That’s exactly what happened. I believe you guys.” There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at Anton. “Maybe just try not to get lost next time.”
You stretched your arms above your head and yawned. “I think I’m going to call it a night. Later, boys.”
Anton resisted a frown. “Good night. Text me when you get home. So I know you made it back safe.”
Sohee waved. “Just don’t get murdered. I would miss you a little bit.”
You flipped Sohee off, waved at Anton, bid your goodbyes to Shotaro who was lying on the couch, and slipped through the front door.
When you were gone, Sohee wanted to know the truth of it immediately. “So? What really happened? You guys were gone for nearly forty minutes. Did you kiss her?”
Anton rubbed his nape. “We just… talked.”
Sohee was not impressed. “About…?”
The conversation was always replaying in Anton’s head and you had only just left. “She asked me a bunch of questions. About my future, music, if I like kids, that sort of thing.”
“What?” Sohee was beaming. “Dude. You’re serious? She asked you if you like kids? That’s serious.”
Anton felt restless. “Or she was just curious. Just making conversation.” Even he didn’t believe that himself.
“I don’t think women just go around asking guys they just met if they like children for no good reason,” Sohee told him. “What else did she ask you?”
Anton thought about it. “She asked me if I had female friends.”
Sohee seemed thrilled. “Oh, yeah, man. She wants to see if you’re a good, respectful young man.”
For once Anton let himself feel some kind of hope. “I should probably text her.”
“You absolutely should,” Sohee agreed. “Maybe mention the chips, I don’t know. She brought chips. Girls like when you remember shit. It’s the little things.”
That night, Anton lay in bed, thinking way too much on what would be the best thing to say. He typed a message and deleted it. He typed another and deleted that too. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath. What were you doing to him?
anton: hey, i had a good time tn. hope you got home okay. thanks for the chips
He settled for that message and forced himself asleep.
When he woke, there was a new message from you on his screen.
you: hey, sorry. fell asleep. thanks for looking out tho. see u when i see ya 😝
Anton must have read the text ten times before he realized he needed to start his day.
A party at some dude named Tyler’s house, ANTON POV, 9:42 PM
Normally Anton would have rather been home, but any chance at seeing you was a chance he was willing to take.
Tyler Rockwell threw parties like it was his life’s calling and absolute duty, nearly every weekend without fail. His parties were open to whoever wanted to show and his friends were always coming up with innovative ways to risk a visit to the emergency room. Anton preferred Shotaro’s parties. Shotaro was picky with his guest list, which meant the size was bound to be more intimate, and they shared a social circle to an extent. A smaller crowd with more familiar faces was easier for him. Usually at parties like this one he stuck to who he knew until he got bored or drunk and wanted to go home.
Around him the music was booming so aggressively he could feel it beneath his shoes and in his bones. A few people bumped into him wordlessly as they passed by, and he could hardly be mad at them when everyone in the room was standing shoulder to shoulder. Gingerly he wove through them in the sparse spaces where the throng of bodies broke up, passing a bundle of tipsy partygoers playing beer pong and a pair of freshmen smoking in a corner. He saw Shotaro in the kitchen laughing with one of his dance crewmates; Eunseok dueling someone on the couch; and Sohee flirting with that Zoe girl he was crushing on.
When he finally laid eyes on you after minutes of ceaseless searching, you were standing by the patio doors talking to a guy Anton had never seen before. He was tall, maybe even taller than Anton, brown of hair, and standing close enough to you that it made Anton’s chest tighten.
Shotaro came up beside him. “Anton, you made it.”
He wished he hadn’t. “Who’s that?” he asked, gesturing over to where you were laughing with another guy.
Shotaro let his eyes be directed there. “Oh, that’s Mason. Mason Mooney. He’s a friend of Tyler’s. Smooth talker.” His voice was not fond. “Are you just curious or are you asking because you’re jealous?”
Anton tried to play it cool. “I’m not jealous. She can talk to whoever she wants.”
Shotaro was unconvinced. “Yeah. Sure.” He took a sip of his drink. “Mason’s a real flirt. Not really the kind of guy she’s into. She’ll probably get bored of him before the night’s over with. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.”
“I’m not—I don’t care about that,” Anton insisted.
Shotaro snickered. “Okay. You don’t care about that. I’m gonna go grab another drink. You want one?”
When Anton shook his head, Shotaro clapped him on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. You were the whole reason he had even come to this party and now he was here for nothing. Maybe he would go back out and spend the night patrolling. He would need to be clearheaded if he did that.
And yet he hardly moved from that spot. His eyes were fixed on you and this Mason guy he had never heard of until now who was making you laugh in the middle of a party where any guy would surely have loved to talk to you. Anton knew he would have. Lately he had been thinking about you and the exchange you’d had up there on Sohee’s rooftop, no one privy to your conversation but the moon and the streets below. It was all he could think about.
Walk away, he told himself, don’t be that guy. Anton almost did turn and head out where he came in. But then he saw Mason gesture towards the stairs. He saw you take Mason’s hand and follow him up.
Against his better judgment, Anton slipped through everyone in the crowd and trailed behind far enough to go undetected. When you disappeared up the stairs, he stayed at the bottom, just within earshot.
“I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” came Mason’s voice in the upper hall.
He heard your voice only a couple of seconds later. “You mean a chance to get me alone?”
“You make it sound so wrong,” Mason was saying. “Is it a crime if I want to be alone with a beautiful woman?”
“Mmmm. No. But you do know I have options, right?”
Mason let out a breathy laugh. “Looking like that, I don’t doubt it,” he said, “but you’re not with your other options. You’re with me. What’s that tell you? ‘Cause I know what it’s telling me.”
“Tells me that I’m a little curious,” you said. “What do you like about me anyway?”
Anton felt his heart thundering.
“I like that you keep me on my toes,” Mason replied smoothly. “Never know what’s gonna come out of your mouth next. I like that you say what’s on your mind. I like that you know you could have anyone in this party, but you’re standing right here with me.” There was a lull of silence where Anton could hear nothing but the two of you breathing. “So, what’s it gonna take for you to give me a chance? A drink? A walk? Another party?”
You chuckled. “I don’t know. I feel like you just want to fuck me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed,” Mason admitted, “but that’s not the only reason I’m talking to you. I like you. I like your attitude. I like your style. I like that pretty little smile. See, there it is. Look at that smile. Gorgeous.”
Anton heard you giggling. “Let’s just go in here and talk, yeah?”
“Okay. I can talk.”
A door opened and shut. Anton stood frozen at the foot of the stairs before he willed himself to turn away. It’s her life. She’s a grown woman. She can talk to whoever she wants.
He made his way to the front door and slipped back out into the night, perching on the steps. The night was a bleak thing around him, a starless sky straggling far and wide for miles. From here the party was trapped behind the threshold, struggling against the door, resisting its walls, threatening to burst into the streets.
Anton thought about the rooftop: the shared chips, the way you made his name sound grand and monumental, the way he had let himself hope that you might want him the way he wanted you. Then, he thought about Mason, who had seemed so confident and sure of himself, the kind of guy who got any girl he wanted. He didn’t know if he could compete with that.
Behind him the door creaked open, some of the chaos from inside spilling out for a moment. Anton did not turn around, but he recognized Sohee’s footsteps when he heard them. Sohee settled down beside him. “Shotaro saw you leave. Said you looked gloomy. I thought I’d come out and check on you.”
Anton didn’t meet Sohee’s eyes. “Just getting some air.”
Sohee didn’t respond immediately. “She went upstairs with Mason. You know that doesn’t mean shit, right? Plus she can hang out with whoever she wants.”
“I know.” Anton had been reminding himself that much repeatedly.
“Then, what’s going on up there, bro?”
Anton released a weary breath. “I don’t know. It’s just… that night on the rooftop, everything felt… legit, you know? Like it could really be something. And now she’s over here laughing with some other guy that’s smooth and charming…”
Sohee didn’t let him finish. “Hey, man. What Mason has doesn’t take away from who you are. You’re a cool dude. I don’t think she would have spent nearly an hour talking to you up there if she didn’t think you were at least a little interesting.”
“I guess you’re right,” Anton conceded.
“Of course, I am,” Sohee said, grinning. “You wanna get out of here? This party’s a joke anyway.”
“Yeah.” Anton stood up. They descended the stairs. “What about that girl you were talking to, though?”
“Zoe?” Sohee rubbed his nape. “Let’s just talk about you and yours, man.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Anton said. “You’re always interfering with my love life. It’s only fair I get to hear about yours.”
Sohee groaned. “It’s complicated, dude.”
Anton shrugged. “We’ve got a long walk. I’m all ears.”
The campus courtyard, ANTON POV, 12:01 PM
This time Anton hadn’t meant to pry. He was in the courtyard waiting for Sohee when your voice, lovely as ever, filled his ears. When he looked up he saw you walking between your friends Willow and Krystal, using your hands like they were scales. He caught the tail end of your words. “Ugh. I should just make them duel or something. That’s probably what men did in the Middle Ages. Fight to the death.”
You rolled your eyes. “Okay. Fine. Rock paper scissors, best of three.”
Less than an hour later, you, Shotaro, Sohee and Anton were gathered around a bench. Anton had expected you to sit beside Sohee or Shotaro as you most often did… so it stunned him when you stole Sohee’s spot beside him before he could settle down.
Oh. Okay. That’s not weird, Anton told himself. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi, Anton,” you greeted with a sweet smile. You glanced down at his hands. His knuckles were red. Your brows furrowed. “You okay? What happened to your hands?”
Anton looked at his own hands. Last night he had taken on a group of crooks making trouble downtown, and earned a few scratches for his work, but that was nothing he could mention to you. “No, I’m—I’m good. Just went a little too hard in the gym, I think.”
You seemed to accept his lie. “Oh, okay. You should be more careful.”
A strange feeling blossomed throughout his chest. He smiled. “Yeah. I should. Thanks for being worried.”
“Do you want to come to my place later?”
Everyone’s heads turned. Sohee nearly broke his neck. Shotaro’s coffee cup had been halfway to his lips when he paused. And Anton felt his heart stop. “Your place?” he repeated, blinking. “Tonight?”
“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were no big deal. “Why not? Are you busy?”
“No,” Anton said much too fast. “No. I think I have time, I’m pretty sure. What time should I come over?”
“Is seven okay?”
“Seven. Yeah. I’ll be there.”
You grinned. “Great. Do you like Mexican food? There’s a restaurant down the block from my place. I can order some so it’s ready when you get there.”
“Yeah, I’m not a picky eater,” Anton said.
“Alright. I’ll text you the menu. Just let me know what you want.”
“I’ll pay you back later, then.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Still.”
“Just focus on getting there.”
Anton’s heart fluttered. “Yes, ma’am.”
Your apartment, ANTON POV, 6:58 PM
He was at the door before seven. An entire ten minutes early, in truth, but he’d circled around with a stammering heart until he felt it was appropriate for him to approach. The door swung open a few moments after he rang the doorbell. You stood there with a radiant smile that did nothing to soothe that incessant tremor.
“Anton! Come in. Did you bring me a gift?” You sounded so happy to see him. He wondered if you were this happy with Mason too.
Anton shut the door behind himself and raised the bag in his right hand. “I just brought chips.” He almost hadn’t. He had stood in the middle of the chip aisle in the bodega for a few minutes longer than he should have, going back and forth with himself in his head, afraid that you’d think it was too cheesy; but he could not show up empty-handed, and so he paid for them anyway.
“My favorite chips,” you said, leading him to a wooden table. It was small, but enough for two, and the food was already separated and plated. “That’s very sweet.”
Anton shook his head, silently denying it. He took a glimpse at your apartment and was suddenly grateful that you had let him step into your world. A bookshelf in the living room stood out, tall and brimming with novels, most of which he didn’t recognize. You had an unfolded blanket on the couch and something was playing on the television although it was muted. “You have a nice place.”
“It’s alright,” you said, settling down. “It’s not fancy, but it’s mine.”
It’s fancy because it’s yours, Anton thought, and he was reminded of that night at Shotaro’s party again when you came in wearing a tank top and jeans. “Yeah. It’s yours. And I appreciate you inviting me into your space.” He took his seat in front of you. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day, actually.”
He saw your eyes flicker. “Really?”
“Is that surprising?”
“I’m just surprised you said it out loud,” you told him.
“I’m surprised too,” Anton admitted, chuckling timidly. He briefly avoided your eyes. “But you deserve to know the truth.”
“You deserve to know the truth too,” you said. “I heard you saw me with Mason.”
Anton took a second to find his voice. “I mean, I did. Yeah. But that’s your business.”
You looked thoughtful. “I just feel like we should talk about it. I don’t want you to feel like I’m leading you on or something.”
“I don’t feel that way,” he whispered. “I mean, honestly, I didn’t love seeing you with him, I can admit that. But it’s your life. I do like you, like, a lot, and I’d be happy if this maybe went somewhere, but that’s your choice to make.”
“I don’t think I like Mason that much anyway,” you confessed. “He’s… nice, but I don’t know. My gut keeps telling me there’s something off about him.” Your voice was soft, tender. Anton didn’t feel deserving of it. “I don’t feel that way around you. I feel like what I see is what I get.”
A profound guilt shot through him and made his body twitch. He wished he could tell you the truth, but he knew that it was far too soon to give his secret away. He decided to tell you what little truth he could for now. “Can I tell you something bad?” he asked quietly.
Your eyes were curious. “What’s up?”
“I was eavesdropping. When you were talking to Mason in the hallway. I know that was wrong of me and I’m not gonna defend that choice. I just thought you should know.” He looked down at his food. The confession was a small thing in the grand scheme of his secrets, but no less important. He wished he would have told you sooner.
“Oh.” You scratched your head. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Are you mad at me?” He had to ask.
“Mad? No,” you said. “I mean, that’s a little weird. But not unforgivable. So it’s fine.”
Anton felt embarrassed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Anton.” When you reached for his hand, he thought his life was over. “And what I was trying to say is: I won’t be seeing Mason anymore. I just want to explore what this is with you. So, you don’t need to get all jealous anymore, okay?”
“I wasn’t…” The lie died in his throat, knowing it was hopeless, and he laughed at himself. “Okay. I was a little jealous. Sue me.”
You giggled. “Okay, let’s eat. I wanna see if you still like me after watching me demolish this burrito. I’m not gonna pretend to be ladylike.”
I like that about you, he thought. That you don’t pretend. You’re just unabashedly yourself. “I don’t think you being yourself will make me change my mind about you.”
He felt like an idiot saying that, until he saw how your smile bloomed wide across your face. “Tell me more about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
He thought about it as he chewed his food. “I love music. I played cello in high school. I’m alright with piano. I started learning when I was a kid but dropped it. I’m good with bass and guitar too. I like movies, especially sci-fi and romance. Cheesy, I know. I’m fascinated by space. I’m allergic to dogs. I like dinosaurs. I hate crowds, so most parties are hell for me. What about you? You said you like writing? I noticed your bookshelf when I came in.”
You glanced back at it. “I love writing. I think a part of it comes from the fact that a lot of the things I’d love to read don’t exist yet. So I make them myself.”
“I get that,” Anton said. “Sometimes I make my own songs because there’s not one that captures the exact feeling I’m going through. What are you into?”
“I’m mostly a fantasy girl, but I’ll probably read any kind of fiction besides romance. I read nonfiction as well, I think it’s important to stay balanced.”
“What’s wrong with romance?”
“I adore romance as a subplot,” you told him, “but I don’t like when the entire book is about that, you know? Romance is a beautiful, human thing, but it shouldn’t consume everything else. I appreciate books that leave room for every aspect of life.”
Anton nodded slowly. “That makes sense.” He was wondering how he would manage that himself—his feelings for you, and the secret identity that meant one way or another, he would always have to lie to you.
Conversation was an easy thing in your company. Anton talked at length about his family, his favorite movies, the things he wanted to do in the future, the places he wanted to see. What he found was that the two of you had a great deal in common. You even exchanged book recommendations (which delighted Anton, who had been wanting to take advantage of his free time to read more lately).
Within the hour his belly was full and his heart was quiet and at ease. There were a few lingering nerves, but he hardly noticed them at all. He was too focused on you. Everything he learned about you only made him like you more, and he liked it for no reason other than that it was yours.
Then you led him to the couch. It was dim there. Now that the kitchen lights were turned off, only the blue hue of the television kept them from being thrust into sheer blackness. When he settled beside you, you asked, “Can I kiss you?”
For once Anton could believe that he wasn’t dreaming. “You can kiss me as much as you want.”
You took that response seriously. When your lips came down against his, they pulled away only to breathe. At first it was a gentle thing, a way of testing the waters. Very quickly you discovered the water was fine, and from there it was all passion and touching and desire.
Anton was not totally inexperienced—he had kissed women before, and slept with a woman before, and he had thoroughly enjoyed it—but the moment you settled onto his lap all his sense went out the window and he felt like a clueless virgin. What was new was that he had never felt the way he did about you for anyone.
Your lips were like warm feathers against his neck. Anton sucked in a breath when he felt them there. They advanced in a downward climb that made him shudder without the knowing of what you might do next. He was willing to surrender himself to you in all the ways he could to make up for the ways he could not.
While this was happening, you must have decided you wanted to kill him, because soon he felt the grind of your body as you pressed yourself against him. He said your name. “That’s…”
You pulled away only barely. It was still too far. “It’s what? Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” Anton blurted, “no, no. I don’t want you to stop. I just… do you know what you’re doing?”
That amused you. “I’m kissing you and grinding against your dick.”
The vulgarity made him flinch, but he supposed he’d liked that you didn’t mince your words. “Right. Yeah. That was a stupid question.”
“Did you mean do I know what I’m doing to you?” you asked with a teasing smile, and pressed yourself against him again. “I have a pretty good idea.” You reached down to squeeze him through his pants. “I didn’t realize you were the type to get hard from just a little bit of kissing and grinding.”
“It helps that it’s you,” he murmured.
“Do you have a soft spot for me, then?” you asked. “Or a hard one, rather?” You squeezed him again.
Anton groaned. “You already know the answer to that.”
“Okay. I have another question.”
“Yeah?”
“Can I suck your dick?”
Anton felt his brain short-circuit. She’s serious. “Yeah. If you want to. I mean, I guess you want to because you asked, but…”
You pressed your index finger against his lips. “Shhh.”
Anton was not going to defy a beautiful woman sitting on his lap and offering to suck him off. He simply nodded his head.
You maneuvered yourself beside him and tugged at his pants and underwear only enough to free his cock. It came up hard and tall and aching. In his mind Anton was begging for you to touch him, and in reality soon enough if you made him wait any longer. He was not too proud. “Wow,” you said, impressed. “You’re pretty big.”
“You think so?”
“Mmhm.” You reached for him, his tip slick with precum, and spread it along his shaft.
Anton tipped his head back against the sofa and let you have control. In that moment he would have let you do almost anything you liked. He was just grateful you were even touching him at all. When he came here he hadn’t imagined he’d end up on your sofa with his dick in your palm.
Your hand teased him up and down in a tight stroke that only made his need grow fiercer than ever. Anton’s breath was heavy on his own ears, and so was his heart’s thudding. He wondered if you heard him the way he heard himself, but you said nothing of it, thoroughly fixated on his length.
When at last you took the head into your mouth, Anton could no longer think, and it did him little good to try. Holy shit. It had been a while since he had been touched by a hand other than his own, and even longer since he felt a mouth there. Yours was supreme. He knew some of his feelings were partial, but that didn’t matter. You were here, and you were real, and you were sucking him, and his mind was reeling, and…
You took him deeper. “Fuck,” he swore out loud. He watched the descent with his own eyes, but the only thing that kept him from believing he was imagining it was that the warmth of your mouth around him and the press of your tongue against his shaft was not something even his most wild dream could fabricate. More than once he had thought about what it would feel like to have your skin on his, a sweet fantasy of you wanting him, craving him, your body warm and trembling and aching for him, and those images in his head were bronze beside your golden touch.
Anton held your hair away from your face, mostly because it was the very least he could do when you were already giving him such a wonderful gift, and partly because he wanted to see you the best he could. He had always found you beautiful. You were no less beautiful now, and he was fascinated by the way you took him in, the way your soft lips sealed around him, the way you would look into his eyes for longer than he could endure without tearing his gaze away. He knew you liked that; he could feel your amusement in the small tremor of your mouth. He didn’t mind, either. Anton knew he was a mess, but he was a mess for you.
If a month someone would have told him that this would be happening, he would never have believed it. The girls of his dreams who unraveled him with a glance inviting him into her home and sucking his cock without prompting. What a wet fantasy come true. He felt indebted and eager to repay the favor. I will, if she lets me. He would feel guilty if he let you walk away from this without making you feel even a fraction of the delights you were giving him now.
Though it was hard to think about that. Every time his thoughts pushed him astray for a few seconds at most, your tongue pulled him back into nothing but you. You grounded him with your touch, not only the wet feel of your mouth, but the way your hand was braced on his thigh and your cheek grazed him. It was a good thing for him. His mind was not naturally a quiet place. At times this did him more harm than not, and it felt freeing, like swinging across the city but infinitely better.
Anton said your name again. “Please, don’t stop.” He was close to the finish, sooner than he would have liked to be, but he never had grand expectations for himself.
You did not stop. In fact, he felt you suck him even faster, and from there Anton lost his mind. Time didn’t feel real. More than that he stopped being concerned with his concept of it altogether. All he knew was that one second you were surely trying to suck him out of a soul, and the next his hips were alive with a mind of their own and his cum was in your mouth.
What really did it for him was watching you swallow. “You…”
You pulled away, licking your lips. “I…?”
He had no words. I think I’m in love. Or that I’ve died and this is heaven. Maybe both. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “Let me return the favor,” he added after a little longer. “Please.”
That was how Anton wound up on his knees, settled between your legs. At first he did nothing but stare, mesmerized by how gorgeous you were, wet and slick and soft, but then he felt weird about openly gawking at your vagina and raked his fingers through your folds instead. He saw your lips part silently.
Anton didn’t start hastily. He was gentle as ever, pressing kisses to your cunt and the skin around it. When that was through he began licking, and then sucking, and he observed your body closely. This was something he had to get right.
Here and there you told him what to do, and Anton was more than happy to oblige you if it meant you would be satisfied. In fact he appreciated that you knew exactly what you wanted from him. It left no room for guesswork. “Like that,” you said. You sighed softly.
Now was not the time to ask, but Anton wondered if you had ever imagined him before, if you had ever closed your eyes at night and pictured his hands on your body and how they might fit around you, if you had ever imagined what he looked like beneath his clothes. He was still wrapping his head around the fact that you wanted him at all. And that you had given him a mind-numbing blowjob that led to an orgasm that he could still feel remnants of.
You deserved to feel that good too, he thought. Perhaps even better. By the end of it he wanted to see you shuddering and swearing with all the ecstasy your body could handle at once. He wasn’t sure if that would be enough, even then. He might have had to do it twice. Or three times. He was not opposed…
“You’re doing so good, baby,” you told him breathlessly.
Anton felt his own breath still. “You can’t just call me that.”
“Why? You like it?”
“Too much,” he muttered.
You grinned mischievously. “Don’t stop, baby. I like your mouth so much…”
Fuck. If she keeps this up I’m gonna get hard again. But he tried not to think about himself for now. You had told him not to stop, and he was determined not to until he had made you come on his tongue.
Anton was hungry for it. The more he thought about it the more he wanted it. He wanted to see you surrender to his mouth, he wanted to feel your body yield to him. He wanted to know what effect he could have on you, and if it was anything like the one you had on him. He was a curious person by nature, that had always been true.
Soon he was introducing his fingers. You gasped when he slid them inside you with ease. You were so wet, so ready. For only a few seconds he let himself imagine what it would feel like to fill you with his cock… but only for a few seconds, and then he banished that thought. Anton had been told before that he had big hands and long fingers, and he was intent on making good use of them.
“Feel okay?” he asked as he curled his fingers inside.
Your hips arched into his hand, which was an answer of its own. “Mmhm.”
He pressed the heel of his free hand down just shy of your stomach while his other hand stroked you with his fingers. He could feel you gushing and tightening around his digits, the need burning within you, bringing you closer and closer. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were making the prettiest sounds he had ever heard.
It occurred to him then, with the end drawing near, that he almost didn’t want this to be over. Or he wished he had some way of reliving it again at least. But he let himself be present. He would not get this first moment again, so he could not let it go to waste.
Finally you had taken all you could and your pussy seized his fingers tight when you reached your climax. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you cursed. His mouth stayed on you through it, and he grabbed your thigh with one hand, and felt it twitching. His eyes never left you as you came for him. He wanted to keep that image there in his mind forever.
When it was done and you were slack and panting, he withdrew his fingers and reached for your cheek. “You okay?” he asked.
Your eyes were fluttering. “I’m marvelous.”
Anton grinned.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
He had to learn to stop being surprised by you. “Already?”
“Should we slow down?” you asked.
Anton considered it. “Probably,” he said, “but if you want me to be your boyfriend, I won’t say no.”
“I want you to be my boyfriend.”
I can’t believe this whole day has been real. Anton’s smile was uncontrollably wide, and it was all for you. “Okay. Then, I’m your boyfriend. And you’re my girlfriend.”
No specific location or time, ANTON POV
After you became his girlfriend, Anton felt that every other problem he’d ever had was of little consequence. That was not to say that he neglected his responsibilities, but he began to approach the world with an optimism that surprised even himself.
His friends noticed it, but they did not question him, mostly because they already knew the cause of it. What they did do was tease the hell out of him. When he came to them with the news, everyone was happy for him and supportive of the new pairing. Sohee in particular was amazed by how hastily Anton had managed to make you his girlfriend (Anton himself seldom believed it), but he had always been confident in him, more than Anton had been in himself.
It was important to him that he was a good boyfriend. You still made his stomach swim painfully, but he was intent on keeping you around so that the likes of Mason Mooney didn’t get their hands on you. He wanted you to be as happy around him as he was around you. Anton took you on dates when he had the time for it, and sometimes when he did not have the time for it he made time. He was more reckless with his money than proper, but he could afford it. Anything to see you smile. What he loved most of all was fostering the connection between you. With every date he learned more about the kind of person you were and he fell even deeper for her.
It was Sohee that told him one day, You’re a goner, man. Every day, every week, every second, it was even more true.
One day he was out patrolling the city when from behind him came a voice he had come to despise. “Hello, Anton.”
He froze. Anton. He had called him Anton, not Spider-Man. Slowly he turned around. “Who are you?”
Mind Man stood there in his purple-and-yellow suit. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He laughed. “You look afraid. Are you, Anton? Afraid?”
Anton willed himself to remain calm, but there was no way that anyone other than Sohee could have known his identity. He frequently underwent several annoying measures to maintain his anonymity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Maybe Mind Man was bluffing. Maybe he was merely testing him.
Mind Man tilted his head. “But I think you do. You’re Anton Lee. Boston born, New York raised. You have a little brother that you love with your whole heart. You’ve been surrounded by music your whole life. You were a swimmer in high school. You read books about space. You like going to the movies. You have that little girlfriend of yours that you’ve been crushing on for months. Sohee Lee is your best friend and the only person who knows that you’re Spider-Man, other than me, of course. Should I go on?”
Anton felt paralyzed. “What do you want?”
“I’m glad you asked, Anton,” Mind Man said. “I want to understand you. I want to get inside your head. You’re the only person I can’t control. So if I can’t get to you from the inside, I’ll get in from the outside.”
Anton wished he understood what he meant, but it sounded like a threat. “If you touch any of my friends, my family…”
Mind’s Man laughter cut him off. “What will you do if I touch your friends and family, Anton? Web me to a wall?” He stepped closer, as if urging Anton to give it a try. “Who’s to say I already haven’t?”
Anton reached for him, but Mind Man leapt away.
“Not so fast, spider,” taunted Mind Man. “Are you going to hurt an innocent man? What if I haven’t done anything? Would that sit right with your conscience?”
“You’ve done enough,” Anton reminded. “You’ve terrorized this city with your plots.” Mind Man was behind some of the more elaborate crimes Anton had dealt with, or at the very least he was always involved in them. Anton remembered one time someone had set up a false alarm on one side of town while a robbery took place on the opposite end. When he finally got there, some of the damage was catastrophic, and Mind Man delayed him even more. He’d felt a terrible guilt that day for the lives that had been expended, that he had not saved.
“The only terror is you,” Mind Man spat. “What good do you think you’re doing for this city, really? For every crook you catch, there’s ten more like him. You give the people hope, but nothing will ever change. Why make them believe in a reality that will never be true?”
Anton gestured around. “In case you haven’t noticed, the crime rates are down. I can’t stop every single bad guy, sure, but the ones I can, that makes a difference. Don’t act like it doesn’t.”
“But it’s true. There’s a great deal of people interested in Spider-Man, and they’re not all just novice lowlifes.” With that, Mind Man went off into the night.
Anton didn’t follow. He knew it would be useless. But he felt a terrible dread rousing within him, a dread of something without a name. He could not know what was to happen.
For a while he stood there alone, wondering if he truly was enough for this wondrous city, if perhaps all his efforts would one day be in vain, if nothing was certain but that he’d endangered those he loved… No. He’s trying to get into my head. That’s what he does. And while true, Mind Man was never one to be idle. His words were meant to confuse, to stifle, but there was always a hint of truth to them one way or another.
Building up to the party at Tyler’s house, ANTON POV, 9:10 PM
Anton was afraid that the honeymoon phase was already over, but he could not think of any other way to rationalize your behavior.
You were not only quiet but uncharacteristically standoffish. The first time you bailed on a plan last minute, Anton thought nothing of it. Things could come up unexpectedly, he knew that all too well. But then it became a frequent problem. When you did finally show to one of the hangouts, you hardly engaged with the others, mostly on your phone or giving curt responses.
He had sat beside you on Sohee’s couch, trying to get you to speak to him. “Hey.”
You hardly looked at him. “Hey.”
Anton felt his chest tightening. He wracked his brain for something to say. “You got a new bracelet,” he pointed out. “That’s cool. Where’d you get it from?”
You glimpsed at the purple bracelet on your arm. “Krystal,” was all you said.
“Oh, cool.”
It got to the point that Sohee had pulled him aside and asked, “Did you guys get into a fight?”
“No,” Anton had told him, because it was the truth. He hadn’t remembered doing anything wrong either. One day, you were this exuberant person that was always smiling in his company, and now you wanted little to do with him, or anyone for that matter.
Friday night was the final nail in the coffin. When Anton texted you to ask if you were coming, you told him, very bluntly: “no.” He almost didn’t come himself, but Sohee and Shotaro insisted that being alone right now would do him no good.
Which was why he found it strange that the second he made it into the hallway, they immediately came up to him, as if they had been waiting. “Hey, man,” Sohee said, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “You want a drink? Tyler’s got some crazy shit in the kitchen. You got to try it.” He started to steer him towards the kitchen.
Shotaro’s face was tight with thinly veined anger, but he encouraged it. “Yeah, come on. I want to see your face when you drink it.”
Anton knew something was wrong. “What’s going on?” he asked forthrightly. He pried Sohee’s hand away. “You guys would normally already be doing your own thing by now.”
Shotaro and Sohee exchanged glances. Neither of them said a word.
“I’m not going to the kitchen,” he said, and went to the main room.
He almost immediately wished he hadn’t.
There you were, in Mason’s arms, kissing him and smiling like you hadn’t with Anton in seven days. You knew he would be here. You knew Sohee and Shotaro would be here. But you made no attempt to hide it, existing in your own world where it was just you and Mason.
He could have gone over. He was angry enough. He could have lashed out, and he might have even been justified in it, but he let you have that world. If this was your choice, if this was what you wanted all along, then so be it. He just wished you would have said that from the beginning.
“Anton,” Sohee started, coming up beside him.
“You weren’t going to tell me?” Anton asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the sight that was making his heart wrench.
“We were,” Sohee said, “but we didn’t want you to see it.”
They were trying to protect him. Anton could understand that. But he was not sure if he could believe it otherwise. You had been different lately, there was no doubt, but he’d hoped time and space would bring you back to normal. “Well, I saw it,” he said, and turned for the door.
Sohee followed him out. “Anton, wait. Shotaro’s going to talk to her. I don’t know what’s going on. She’s not usually like this. She’s not this kind of person.”
The night felt cooler on his shoulders than it had before he came in only a few minutes ago. “Doesn’t matter what she’s usually like. She did what she did.” His voice was flat. “I’m going home. Or maybe I’ll just patrol instead. The city still needs me, even if she doesn’t.”
“Okay,” Sohee said. He sighed. “Just don’t shut me out.”
Anton nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Both of them turned and walked opposite directions, Sohee back into the chaos, and Anton wherever his feet led him.
He didn’t go straight home. For a while Anton ambled around aimlessly, his hands in his pockets, his mind racing. It made no sense to him. You had told him that you wanted him, that Mason felt wrong. Then, you turned around and kissed him at a party with dozens of people as witnesses. There was no reason to do that unless you wanted to hurt him, and he had no idea what he could have done to deserve something so needlessly cruel.
It had hurt him. Anton may not have been wearing it on his face beyond some tautness and glowering, but he felt it deep in his chest, a crushing throb that ached without end. He had let himself have hope and dared to be honest about his feelings, and that had taken great strength. To think that it was for nothing, only to be taunted in the middle of some party… he felt like a fool. He should have seen it, but even as he looked back he couldn’t determine what might have prompted the shift, only that a shift did happen, and it did so abruptly.
You had seemed more than content with him. Anton might have let himself wonder if he’d made it up, if he had been seeing your happiness because that was what he wanted to see, but the others had noticed it too. They had teased him ruthlessly and asked if he had perhaps done some sort of sorcery. There was no way none of that hadn’t been real, or at least so he had thought. But everything changed when you became distant, and now you were in another man’s arms, and no one could make sense of it, not even his friends.
Maybe he should have approached you and asked you himself. It would have been one thing if you changed your mind after being with him and decided he wasn’t the right fit. Anton would have been hurt, but not so hurt as he was now. You chose to do it in the most brutal way imagined.
When he did finally make it home, he spent hours trying to sleep, but his mind would not grant him that peace. He sighed and got up to don his suit, and went out the window. There’s always crime to fight.
Even after he caught criminals, Mind Man’s words rang out in his head like a mantra. He sat down on the ledge of a rooftop and started to wonder if he was doing any good for this city. There were many people he had saved, he knew that, but it also seemed that he attracted more danger with the name Spider-Man alone. There were people out there that were willing to jeopardize entire boroughs if it meant getting their hands on him. He glanced down at the raging city beneath him, full of people, of history, of life, of pain, of joy, of opportunity. Maybe they would be better off without him.
“Lose your girlfriend, Anton?”
Anton sighed. As if tonight could get no worse. “Mind Man,” he said coolly, “it looks like you’re keeping tabs on me. I’m flattered.”
Mind Man snickered. “I am curious about you, after all.”
No shit, Anton thought. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that. Do you want to date me instead or something? Because I have to admit, this is getting kind of creepy. You know a lot about me, and I don’t even know your real name.”
“Isn’t that what makes this fun?”
“You know, when most people want to have fun, they play games or hang out with friends or get a hobby.”
“Aren’t we friends by now?”
“Not a chance.”
“That cut me, really,” Mind Man said. “Almost as much as your girlfriend cheating on you must have hurt you. I mean, damn. Didn’t you guys just get together two weeks ago? That’s gotta sting. Did you bore her that bad with your moral righteousness?”
“Cut it out,” Anton warned. “You don’t know her. You don’t know why she did it.”
“I don’t need to know her,” Mind Man insisted. “I just need to know you.”
That was the part that made him anxious. Mind Man knew too much about him. No one could have known about you kissing another man unless they were in the room when it happened. If this guy is someone I know... “Who are you, seriously?” Anton asked.
“The mystery kills you, doesn’t it? Who is Mind Man? What did you do wrong? Why did she do that? Was it something you said?”
Anton stood up. “I asked you a question.”
Ignoring him, Mind Man continued, “When will you face the truth? You’re not as important as you think you are. All it takes is one little accident before Spider-Man goes buh-bye. The world might mourn him, but will they mourn Anton? I know your girlfriend won’t.”
“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” Anton told him. He was pushing the right buttons, but Anton couldn’t give him the satisfaction of a victory.
“Maybe I can’t get rid of you. But I can get rid of her.”
Anton’s hand acted before he even knew it. He grabbed Mind Man by the arm. “That’s your second time threatening people in my life. I’m not going to let it slide a third time.”
Mind Man laughed. “Have a good night, Anton.” He wrested his arm away and vanished.
Anton stood there, picturing you at the party tonight, kissing Mason Mooney. As badly as you had wounded him, there was no part of him that was going to let Mind Man hurt you. Not now. Not ever.
The campus library, ANTON POV, 2:12 PM
Anton was in the middle of perfecting a melody when he heard footsteps stopping in front of him.
Before him stood Krystal, a close friend of yours. After the night of the party, you had stopped hanging with the boys altogether. The only time he saw you was when you were with Krystal and Willow or Mason. None of his texts had gone through when he tried to reach out to you, and the boys had said the same was true for them.
“Hey, Krystal,” Anton said cautiously. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Krystal glanced around. “I need to talk to you about ____.”
Anton was stiff. “What about her?”
“I know you’re upset with her because of what happened at the party, and you should be. What she did was wrong. But it was super unlike her. I think something’s seriously wrong with her. She’s been acting like an entirely different person. When you guys got together, she was telling us how much she liked you and how Mason gave her bad vibes, and now he’s all she talks about.”
Anton’s brows furrowed. “Really?”
“Yes,” she said. “Not that long ago, she was normal. And then she was aloof. And, like, a week before the party, Mason gave her this bracelet and she’s been weird ever since. I asked her when she was going to finish A Feast for Crows. She said she doesn’t read fantasy. Willow got her barbecue chips. She said she prefers salt and vinegar.”
“What?” Anton was flabbergasted. “Wait a minute. A bracelet. You mean the purple bracelet she’s been wearing?”
“Yeah. That one.”
Anton was quiet for a moment. “She told me that you gave that to her.”
She looked bemused. “No? She just showed up wearing it one day and said Mason had given it to her.”
“A week before the party?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Motherfucker. Anton shot up in a hurry. “I gotta go. Thanks for telling me this, you have no idea how helpful that is. Bye!” He gathered his things and scurried out.
How could I have been so blind? Anton thought as he ran through the courtyard. It was all right there in his face the whole time. I want to get inside your head. You’re the only person I can’t control. So if I can’t get to you from the inside, I’ll get in from the outside. That was what Mind Man had told him. At first it made no sense to him. But Mind Man always seemed to know a great deal about his life, and he knew about the party. Which would only make sense if he was there himself.
And he was there, holding you, kissing you where he knew Anton would see. He was Mason Mooney.
Anton went straight to your apartment. He was drenched in sweat by the time he got there, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just sit around knowing what he knew. In your bedroom there was a window you kept open. He slipped in through there and crept inside. You were sitting on the couch, watching some show.
Anton stepped forward and said your name. “It’s me.”
You jolted. “What the fuck?”
Anton held up his hands. “Listen, I know how this looks, but I need you to listen to me. That bracelet Mason gave you, I need you to take it off.”
“Absolutely not,” you said. “I love this bracelet!”
Anton was cautious. “It’s a gorgeous bracelet, I can see why you would love it. But can you take it off for just a minute? Please?”
“Stay away from me! I don’t like you anymore. I like Mason.”
Anton’s felt like there was a rope around his heart. “I know you think that’s how you feel. But it’s not. You told me you wanted to be with me. Remember? You told me you weren’t going to see Mason anymore. This isn’t you.”
“This is who I’ve been all along,” you insisted. “Maybe you’re just not as important as you think you are.”
Those were Mind Man’s words. Anton remembered them, because they hit him as hard then as they did now. He took a step closer. “That’s what he said. Just before telling me that he can’t get rid of me, but he can get rid of you. Is that the kind of man you want? The kind that will use you to hurt me?”
“Don’t touch me, I’ll scream!”
Anton surrendered. “Okay. Okay. I’m not touching you. But if you want me to leave, you just have to answer a simple question: what kind of food did we eat when you first invited me over?”
“That doesn’t matter,” you spat.
“It does matter,” Anton replied flatly. “It matters because she would remember that. But you don’t know that. You don’t know anything about her because you’re not her.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re playing a dangerous game, Anton.”
It sounded like something Mind Man would say. “Mason put the bracelet on you to turn you against me,” Anton said. “He’s using it to control what you think and how you feel.”
You walked to the window and opened it. “Stop!”
Anton stilled. “I just want you to take the bracelet off.”
“I’ll sooner die,” you told him, and climbed onto the ledge of the open window.
His heart stopped. “Okay. Okay. I’m leaving. Please come down from there.” He walked backwards to the door. But I’m not giving up on you that easily.
You came down from the window and closed it, and turned to watch him with expectant eyes.
Anton left, but that choice was not a concession. He just had to figure out another way to get to you.
A rooftop in the city, ANTON POV, 12:17 AM
For once Anton was looking for Mind Man, but the only problem was that Mind Man usually came to him, or he drew Anton out where he wanted him.
Tonight was going to be different. Mind Man was good at what he did because he studied Anton thoroughly. When Anton finished patrolling for the night, he sat around on a rooftop nearby to gather his bearings before he headed home. Mind Man must have known that and used it to find him every so often.
Anton did the same thing tonight, except this time he was waiting for him.
Like clockwork, Mind Man materialized from behind him and said, “You look very morose, Anton. Want to talk about it?”
“I’m not in the mood for talking,” Anton said, getting up to his feet. “Fight me.”
He could imagine Mind Man’s smile behind his mask. “What happened? Did someone kill a puppy? Did the thieves get away before you web them to a bench in Central Park?” Mind Man cracked his neck. “It’s been a while since our last dance.”
They traded elementary blows at first, as if warming up to something larger. Anton flung himself up into the air and landed on his hands and feet to dodge an attack; Mind Mind sidestepped his strikes effortlessly.
When Mind Man grew bored of it, he opted for something a little more advanced. The blow came at Anton as quick as light. He leapt off the rooftop and swung out onto another one.
Mind Man followed suit. “Trying to get away, Anton?” he asked with amusement.
Anton said nothing. Mind Man came at him hard, throwing up his arms in an attack that might have made his mouth bleed had it landed. Anton rolled away and charged. Mind Man sidestepped him. He grabbed a flower pot and threw it at Anton.
The pot struck his foot. Anton swore underneath his breath, but Mind Man gave him no time to recover. He picked up another pot and launched it at Anton’s head.
Anton scrambled out of its trajectory and threw himself onto another rooftop. He had only one goal, and it was not winning a fight. Still he did not want to get too badly injured. As Mind Man was on him he pulled a chair towards himself with a string of web and hurled it at him.
Mind Man grunted. He went after Anton again. The assaults were relentless. With every blow Mind Man got on him, Anton leapt out onto another building, and another, and another… until they were on top of the building adjacent to yours.
“Recognize this place?” Anton asked. “Mason?”
Mason looked around. He removed his mask and threw it down. “We’re outside her apartment. Was that your grand plan tonight? I’m not very impressed.”
“Take the bracelet off her,” Anton said.
Mason didn’t look the least bit bothered that Anton knew. If anything, it amused him more. “Why would I do that? She’s mine now, Anton. Mind and body. Just accept that it’s over.”
“I’ll never let you break me,” Anton told him in a tone that left no room for uncertainty.
There was a glimmer of satisfaction in Mason’s eyes. “You can think that, but I know you. I know exactly how to break you down. I know what squeezes at your heart like nothing else. Would you like to hear what we’ve been up to? How she kisses me every night? How she says she loves me? How she begs me to fuck her?”
Anton was abhorred. “You piece of shit. You’re taking advantage of her.”
“Advantage?” Mason grinned. “I’m just giving her what she needs, because let’s face it: she doesn’t need you.”
“Get the bracelet off her,” Anton told him again.
“Why? Doesn’t it look beautiful on her? Maybe I should add something else to complement it. A necklace, or a ring. What do you think?”
“I think you’re pathetic,” Anton said with a sharpness that surprised himself. “I think that you have some sick obsession with me. I think you have an amazing power, but the only thing you can think to do with it is force someone to do things you know they would never do otherwise. I think you need me to satisfy your ego because you can’t accept that you don’t like the person you are when you’re not wearing that suit. And the fact that I have a life, that I have people who love me with or without mine, feels like a personal affront.”
Mason’s smile fell. “Watch your mouth, spider.”
The sound of a window drawing open distracted Anton long enough for Mason to strike him in the side. Anton stumbled back, grunting in pain.
You poked your head outside the window. “Mason?”
Mason waved at you. “Hey, babe. Miss me?”
Anton leaned over the rooftop and said your name. “Take the bracelet off. Please.”
“I’m never taking it off. This is my favorite bracelet,” you told him, crossing your arms. “How do you even know my name?”
Anton remembered that he was masked. She doesn’t know who I am. Right now, he’s not Anton to you.
Mason laughed. “Do you want to tell her, ‘Spider-Man’, or should I?”
No. She might not listen to me, Mason’s made sure of that. But she might listen to Spider-Man.
“I know things about Mason,” Anton started. “I know what he does to people. He’s been involved in murders, robberies, all those elaborate crimes you see on the news. And that bracelet he gave you, he didn’t give it to you to make you happy. He gave it to you to control your thoughts.”
“What?” Your brows were stitched. “Mason wouldn’t do that. He loves me.”
“Exactly, babe,” Mason agreed. “Don’t listen to this moron. He’s just trying to get in your head. He’s jealous and he can’t stand that you chose me. That bracelet is a gift, a symbol of what we have. You don’t need to take it off for anyone.”
Anton didn’t give up. “Think about it. If it’s just a harmless bracelet, why is he so adamant on you not taking it off? Isn’t that suspicious to you?”
You thought about it. “Mason… are you scared of me taking it off?”
Mason’s confidence was wavering. “Scared? No, baby. That’s ridiculous. I just don’t like seeing you doubt us. He’s putting stuff in your head. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
Your eyes narrowed. “I’m taking it off for just a second, okay?”
Mason moved to stop you, but before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, the bracelet was tugged off your wrist. He froze. Anton did too, watching, waiting, his heart racing. Please. Remember…
You stood still, but your eyes changed with a different awareness, and began to water. You looked down at your hands and flexed your fingers. A sigh of relief escaped you. “Oh my god.”
Anton smiled beneath his mask. He could have cried himself.
“No,” Mason said. In a rage, he leapt at your window, grabbed a hold of you, and threw you into the air.
Your scream cut through the night.
Anton moved on nothing but instinct. He dove after you and strung a web around your waist to catch you. When you were secure, he reeled you down onto a fire escape. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I promise.”
You glanced up at him. “Spider-Man?” Your chest was undulating.
“I’ve got you,” Anton whispered, kneeling beside you. “Are you okay?”
Your eyes were wet. “I need… I need to call my boyfriend… and my friends… but this is crazy, they won’t believe me. I was acting so different, but I wasn’t trying to. I couldn’t stop it. It’s like I was possessed or something.”
Anton’s voice was gentle. “They’ll believe you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He reluctantly lifted his mask. “It’s me.”
Your body went still. “Anton?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Mason found out who I was somehow. He targeted you to get to me. I’m so sorry.”
You cried harder. “I didn’t want to do those things. I couldn’t stop it. I’m really sorry, Anton, I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“No. No. Listen to me. What he did is not your fault. That wasn’t you. It was him,” Anton told you. He wiped your eyes.
“I wanted to take it off so badly. Shotaro’s pissed at me. Sohee too.”
Anton reached for your hand and squeezed it. “They were concerned because they recognized that you weren’t acting like yourself. Once they get the full story, they’re going to be pissed at Mason, not you.” He kissed your forehead. “Sohee already knows that I’m Spider-Man. Explaining it to him will be the easiest. We’ll figure out Shotaro. Okay?”
You nodded. “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you at all,” Anton said. “If anything, I’m mad at myself. I should have realized it sooner. I knew that you weren’t being yourself. But I spent so long being mad at you that I didn’t connect the dots and now he’s done God knows what to you.”
You reached out to hold him. “What are you going to do about Mason?”
Anton turned around. Mason was gone. He had been so focused on saving you that everything else in the world became secondary. “I know who he is now. He’s not going to get away with it and he’s not going to touch you ever again. I just have to call in a favor.”
“With who?”
Anton grinned. “You have a lot to catch up on. Come on. Let’s get you inside. And then tomorrow, we’ll tell the boys together.”
Sohee’s apartment, NO CHARACTER POV, 1:33 PM
Sohee and Shotaro were gathered on the couch with cups of coffee, their eyes fixed to the television as the news played. “Mind Man, revealed to be twenty-two-year-old NYU student Mason Mooney, has been taken into special custody. Authorities apprehended him last night after allegedly being tipped off by Spider-Man.”
Sohee turned to Shotaro. “Wait. That’s the guy.”
Shotaro was stunned. “What the hell?”
Given the ludicrousness of the situation, Anton had advised waiting until after the news broke out to tell the boys what happened. With that part of it already out in the open, there was no doubt that they would believe you.
Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Shotaro said. He went up to the door and glanced through the peephole. You were standing there with Anton. Shotaro opened the door. “Well, this is unexpected.”
“Who is it?” Sohee called out.
“____ and Anton.”
“What? Together?”
Shotaro widened the door. He was wary, but the fact that you were both there meant something had changed since the last time he saw either of you. “Come in. Sohee’s in the living room.”
You and Anton walked into the living room hand in hand.
Sohee noticed your hands instantly. He glanced at Anton, silently communicating his bemusement, but Anton said nothing. Sohee said your name. “Did you decide to stop hating us now that your boyfriend’s in ‘special custody?’”
You rubbed your neck. “About that…”
“Yeah. About that,” Shotaro echoed. He dropped back onto the couch. “Care to explain what the past week and half have been about?”
You looked at Anton.
“It’s okay,” he said, squeezing your hand.
You braced yourself. “Mason came over to my apartment one day. He said he understood I didn’t want to continue seeing him, but he wanted to give me one final gift. A bracelet. I didn’t really want it, but he asked me to at least try it on. So I did. I didn’t think that a bracelet could hurt me. I was very wrong… he used it to control my mind and get into my head. Everything I said and did after that day, that wasn’t stuff I was choosing to do. I didn’t choose to kiss Mason in the middle of the party. I didn’t choose to say those awful things to Shotaro. I didn’t choose to ignore Sohee’s messages. But I was helpless to stop it.”
Whatever bit of anger Shotaro might have felt washed away and suddenly he just felt terrible for you. “What? That’s… insane.”
“But it explains everything,” Sohee continued. “Aw, man. I’m really sorry that happened to you. I knew that shit was weird. You wouldn’t do that kind of thing.”
“So you guys are back together?” Shotaro asked.
“Yes,” Anton said, keeping you close to him. “Now that I know the truth, it’s impossible to be mad at her.”
You nodded. “I’m really sorry about how I treated you guys.”
“You didn’t do that,” Shotaro said. “This changes everything. Mason’s more of a dipshit than I thought.”
“Yeah,” you muttered. “He is.”
Sohee smiled softly. “Well, it’s good to know my gossiping buddy is back to normal. Every time something happened, I kept wanting to text you, but then I remembered you hated us for some reason.”
You gasped. “Wait, what? What happened? Did I miss a lot? Are you dating the Zoe girl now?”
Anton snickered. “See. She’s back.”
“It’s a long story,” Sohee said. He patted the spot beside himself. “Let’s get you up to speed.”
Anton’s apartment, YOUR POV, 9:04 PM
That night, you were laying on Anton’s chest in his bed, playing with his hair. “I’m definitely gonna need therapy, but you know what makes me feel better about this whole situation?”
Anton’s arm was curled around your waist. It made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t since Mason put that bracelet on your wrist. “Yeah. What is it?” he asked softly.
“Spider-Man is handsome beneath the mask,” you said. You ran a hand under his shirt. “And ripped too.”
A laugh broke through him. “Really? That’s what makes you feel better?” His eyes were soft. “What a relief. I mean, I was starting to worry I’d have to keep the mask on forever in case you found me ugly.”
“No, the mask and suit stays on during sex,” you quipped, “but you don’t need it.”
Anton shook his head. “You’re a freak. I should have never told you that I was Spider-Man. You read fanfiction about me.”
“Oh my god, when I was a teenager,” you groaned. “Not better than the real thing, though.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.” You kissed his nose. “Even though this has been the craziest month of my life by far, I’m really glad I met you.”
Anton was grinning. “I’m really glad I met you too.”
⤷ summary: anton claims his facial hair grows too fast and pleads with you to help him because he struggles to reach the corners but that's just an excuse. simply put, there's no better feeling than being held by your soft hands. it's become the best part of his morning routine because you transform the mundane task of his shaving routine into a quiet, tender declaration of love. you haven't told him yet, but it's your favorite thing too.
⤷ genre: just complete and utter fluff!
⤷ warnings: a obscene amount of petnames (love, angel, baby, toni, etc.), they’re disgustingly in love! very indulgent of me, what can i say hehe
⤷ song rec: always - daniel ceasar, i’ve been listening looping the clip of anton singing this while on live while i write. here’s the link!
a/n: i wrote this because anton keeps commenting that his beard grows the fastest out of all the members and i can’t stop thinking about domestic moments with him. i'm pretty proud of this piece, so please enjoy everyone! as always likes/blogs are always appreciated, please lmk your thoughts <3
“Baby, sit still. Or I’m going to cut your chin, please.”
You tap his shoulder to get him to stop moving and remind him that you refuse to be held responsible if he inadvertently injures himself. He laughs at that, and ends up pretend-sulking at your attempts to tame his clingy self.
It’s half past nine, and you both have plans to hit the farmer’s market and walk around the park before coming back to make breakfast. Really, that means you’re going to catch up on your weeks while you sit on the bar counter and do your daily sudoku puzzle. You’re just supervising Anton to make sure he doesn’t burn down the kitchen while he makes you your usual Sunday brunch of chocolate chip pancakes with berries, crispy, almost borderline burnt bacon and eggs sunny side up, the only way you can stomach them.
Currently, you’re occupied with the task of shaving your boyfriend’s “beard” that you had to squint at to notice this morning. You’re positioned on top the bathroom counter, while your boyfriend stands between your dangling legs, lowering his knees so you’re eye to eye. You tilt his chin toward your line of vision and carefully apply shaving cream around his jaw, admiring his flawless facial structure as you go. His facial hair hasn’t grown that long; you remember the stubble was only lightly poking you when you kissed him goodnight yesterday, but from afar, the hairs are practically invisible. Still, when the first thing you encountered this morning was him rolling onto you and nestling his head into his chest, looking up at you like a kicked puppy and begging you to help him, you couldn’t say no.
Not that you ever have—pride taking front stage ever since he claimed that you always do it better than he does and his face feels infinitely smoother after your touch. You don’t bother to call him out on his bluff, because it’s really too cute. He still acts like you hung the stars every day, despite dating for over 2 years now.
Around the six-month mark of your relationship, Anton shared with you that, growing up, his dad was a goose dad—a music producer who visited sporadically from his work in South Korea to their estate on the outskirts of New Jersey. For a while, it was just his mom and him until his brother came into the picture. In many ways, you figure that’s why he’s so sensitive about his skin and health, in a way that you don’t quite pick up on in other men his age. He never skips a supplement to this day. Throw in the fact that your boyfriend can be a diva sometimes; you’ve come to understand that Anton loves nothing more than being pampered by those he loves. The first night you slept over at his small dorm, you were shocked to come out of the bathroom to your boyfriend sitting with a book in hand, and a collagen face mask adorning his pretty face.
“Are those masks why your skin is always so clear?”
“A proper magician never reveals his secrets… but yeah. It is.”
Ever since then, you’ve picked up on the small ways he takes care of his hygiene and appearance. He claims it’s only gotten worse since he started dating you, transforming from a broke college student with just a little more than the essentials, such as a few masks his mom drops off when she remembers, to having a special shelf in the bathroom cupboard and a section in his fridge for the skincare products you picked out for him. In his head, he refuses to let you walk around with an unkempt partner, denying the opportunity to give anyone a reason to think that you two aren’t the perfect match even if it’s through a superficial lens.
“Sorry, angel. You’re just too pretty. Wanna kiss you so bad,” Anton’s eyes have been hyperfocused on your lips like a hawk ever since he placed you down on the ceramic. His arms circle your waist like a snake tightening its grip on prey, trying to bring you even closer. His lips are unconsciously set in a distracting pout, the bottom one obnoxiously jutting out in hopes that it’s enough to reach yours, and you have to will yourself to focus on the task at hand.
Anton can’t help it when you’re so gentle with handling him. He feels like you’re holding his whole heart in your hands; he’s wrapped in the tightest loop around your pretty fingers. With you around, his usual 7-minute shaving routine turns into an intentional, love-laced 15-minute ritual. You make everything feel special, he thinks. It’s just a bonus that you’re always so cute with your eyebrows furrowed, trying to get even the smallest of his baby chin hairs.
“My baby is so cute. You’re so cute; did you know that?”
“Yes, Toni. You only remind me like 50 times a day.”
“My bad. I’m actually supposed to remind you 51 times.”
“You’re the cutest ever. I’m the luckiest man alive.”
You hum in response, still focused on making sure you don’t prick him when you drag the razor down the side of his chin. His small declarations of love aren’t limited to the morning only, but it’s as if Anton wakes up ready to shower you in affection every day. He’s so incredibly soft, just malleable in your hands when you’re holding him and taking care of him so intentionally like this.
“My favorite place ever. I love sharing this life with you. I want every morning to be like this.”
“Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself now.” You laugh at his antics, partially to hide the fact that your cheeks are getting redder by the minute, the heat also transferring to the tips of your ears.
You finish the last swipe with the razor, run the soft towel you laid out under hot water, and gently dab at his face to get the remaining cream off.
“There, baby. All done.”
“Give me a kiss.”
“Aren’t you going to admire my work first? The mirror’s right behind me.”
Anton makes a show out of quickly shifting his gaze off of you to look in the mirror, head turning side to side as he praises your hard work. His face breaks out into a smile, all while he brings his hand up to touch where the stubble was previously, relishing the buttery softness of it all, and he redirects his attention back to you.
“Perfect as always. My baby’s the best. Now, does she accept tips in the form of kisses or no?”
You can’t hold back the laugh this time. He’s so ridiculous, but he’s all yours. Unable to keep torturing yourself and him like this, you lean in quickly and peck his lips once. Then twice. Then a third time. Just as you tip your head back and decide it’s time to get off the counter, Anton closes the distance between you two to kiss you a few more times until he feels that it’s satisfactory enough.
“Thank you, angel,” he hums in his little happy tone as he expresses his appreciation for you, gleeful and lovestruck as ever.
“Of course, Toni.”
Your mind circles back to the passing comment he made earlier and your face immediately burns up.
“...I want every morning to be like this.”
You’ve thought about it too. You’ve had this reoccurring thought that gnaws away at you: being with Anton feels too easy. It’s too easy to settle into his routine, your life opening up to make space for him just as he’s shown you time and time again that you’re his priority through it all. It’s too easy to imagine yourself moving in together, coming home to him after a long day, celebrating his first job promotion. The apologetic cuddles that will unfold after you disagree and clash over which kitchenware belongs in which drawer. Anyone else would die to be this in love and be in your shoes, but you can’t deny that the thought annoyingly gives you a sense of tense anxiety. How is it this easy? How does he make it so easy?
You certainly didn’t have the worst dating history or hall of fame of bad exes, but that doesn’t mean you pictured a foreseeable future with any of them. Anton is different; he’s always felt too easy to be around from the start, even when you were just friends getting to know each other. You didn’t want to get too comfortable, especially in the beginning, because it scared you to think about how much you could grow to love him and the pieces you’d have to pick up if things ever went South. So you put up walls for a while, but Anton worked at it every day, tearing them down with the gentle understanding with which he held you, as if he never had a doubt that you were the right one for him.
You felt lovesick for the first few months and attributed it to the quintessential honeymoon phase that every couple is subjected to, but you think you’ve known it for a while. That being here with him like this could be forever for you too. He quells your nervous system in a way that used to feel foreign, but now it puts you at ease knowing you belong to someone so wholly. Anton never feels shy about expressing his love for you, his body wired to tell when you’re too in your head. He senses when you’re being too critical of your performance at work or stressed with the pressure of living up to the expectations your parents set for you, and pulls you right out of the hole before you get the chance bury yourself to the chin up.
You think it’s a forever kind of love when he goes out of his way to cook you dinner (despite not having a single culinary bone in his body) when you’ve been eating out too much due to a hectic schedule and tracks your cycle on his phone so that he can surprise you with chocolates, flowers, and all of the things you know you begin to crave. One look from him at you, and he can pinpoint exactly what’s wrong and how to pacify the situation. He always jokes that you came with an instructional manual because he can read you so well.
For a long time, you’ve prided yourself on being hyperindependent, always handling things so well on your own, but you were deluding yourself. Time on this planet is better spent with someone else, and Anton is living proof of that. It once terrified you to depend on him, because you weren’t sure if an Anton-sized hole in your heart was survivable. But you’d hate to think being with Anton is scary, because he’s spent every day showing up to prove to you that this is forever for him too.
You feel immense love for him in the most mundane moments. For example, you find it grossly endearing how he’ll indulge you and share his face masks with you at night everytime you sleep over. The first night it happened, you fell asleep first before him, the exhaustion of the day pulling you into slumber. He admired you for a bit, so shy and in disbelief that you were all his. He lightly tucked the hairs that escaped to frame your face behind your ear, then readjusted himself so he could peel the sheet off your face and toss it into the trashcan he always keeps near his bed before slotting himself in next to you.
This indulgence has only grown in amplitude. Now, it’s become customary for you to accompany him to the bathroom, standing side by side, playfully bumping into each other as you wash and prep your skin for bed. Sometimes, when your routine goes over and he finishes first, he’ll stand idly by watching you. His eyes drill holes into your cheek, admiring the way that blush creeps up, obsessed with the physical effect he has on you, and softly inquire about each step of your routine. And now it’s the mornings that you spend cornered in his arms, pampering your lover so he knows you love him in the same way he does.
“Mmm, babygirl. You there?” You realize you disappeared in front of him.
You yelp as he physically nudges you back out of your thoughts as he circles his arms around your waist, gripping you to lift you off the counter and place you down on the floor.
“Sorry, Toni. Just thinking about what you said. About us spending more mornings like this.”
He tucks you into his side, holding you for a little longer, chin resting on the top of your head. He’s always so warm.
“Ohhhh, that. Yeah. Of course, I picture you in my forever,” he says it fully and unapologetically.
It comes out in a way that makes you feel silly for even doubting that forever was ever up in the air with him. You think there’s nothing left for you to do but melt down into a puddle of ultra-saccharine love.
When you don’t respond, he continues.
“That’s why I was thinking… After our leases end in May, we can do some apartment searching. Find a cute spot in downtown that works with our budget. Of course, we’ll make sure to get one with an office for you so you can work from home whenever you want,” His words drift off too, and he seems lost in thought, as if he’s already planning the layout of the apartment and where he'll place his bulky instrument collection.
He looks back up at you, suddenly feeling shy and too conscious of your silence, but the smile on your face tells him everything he needs to know.
“I’d love to, baby. I see you in my forever too.” It feels so good to say it to him. You could say it forever.
His words find solace in your skin, warming you from head to toe. That’s why it’s beyond easy to make time for him and do this for him. Shaving his face, putting on face masks together, taking care of each other like your bodies were put on this earth to do it for each other, like it was written in your genetic code. Like it’s second nature.
You want the promises, and you want the moments in bed spent looking for recipes on TikTok the night before, going grocery shopping the next day, and cooking at each other’s places, navigating life as freshly graduated young adults—you decide you want all of it. You want him. You’re so at peace with him right here.
Everything else will come later, you decide.
A thought pops into your head.
“Hey, if we move in together, I’m going to start accepting cash payments instead of kisses. Zelle, Venmo, or Cash App works, baby. You already know my handles.”
synopsis . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. anton could never let you go to sleep mad at him.
ʚɞ pairing boyfriend!anton x girlfriend!reader - content couple arguement (they make up) // fluff // drabble // imagines // established relationship // anton lowk pmo in the beginning but its ok cs that's dada - wc 1.2k
a/n: anton in lee youngji's video. that's it. (i need us anton biases to hide him..)
~~~~
it was 7:42 PM.
you had just gotten off of your long exhausting shift from the hospital. patients all day had been yelling at you, demanding things you couldn’t even give them, and just being straight up rude— being home was the only thing that was on your mind the whole day.
as the door opened, you peered into the kitchen.
anton was sitting at the kitchen island on his phone— already in his pajamas. he immediately looked up and smiled at you.
“hi, baby girl.”
you gave a small smile. “hi.”
anton made his way over to you, hands soon finding the back of your waist to pull you into a small comforting hug. he had his chin pressed on the top of your head.
“busy day today?”
you nodded, sighing into his chest. “mhm..”
he then let you out of his grasp, watching you walk towards the pan on the stove.
but.. the pan was empty.
great..!
“where’s the food?” you turned your head back to glance at anton.
he stared back at you, “i ate it,” he let out a small chuckle. “what’s wrong?”
“what do you mean, what’s wrong? did you not care to leave me some?”
“i just got home an hour ago, it was something small.” he shrugged. “you can cook yourself, that’s why i left the pan there.”
you paused. did he really just say that?
"what did you say?"
"i said you can cook."
anger fumed in your mind.
seriously, what was wrong with him?
already being home from a hectic day at work, you were at your breaking point.
“i can cook?" you scoffed. "anton, you sound like a jerk right now.” before you could continue and explode even more, you stopped yourself. you took a deep breath, closing your eyes.
anton stood still in the same place, observing whatever was happening right now in this moment. you then walked off and took your bag into the bedroom you and him shared.
“w-where are you going?” he spoke, trying to follow you.
“i’m showering.”
before he could say anything, you shut the door to the room— leaving him now staring at the white door. he sighed, rubbing both of his hands on his eyes.
inside of the bedroom, you could feel the literal steam coming out of your ears and mouth.
after your shower, you had calmed down much more.. but you were still irritated from anton’s response. you opened the bathroom door to see anton laying on his side of the bed like always. he flicked his head up away from his book he was reading to look up at you exiting the bathroom. you glanced at him for what felt like two seconds, before you walked out of the room. he furrowed his brows and put his book down.
you laid onto the couch in the living room, pulling one of the big blankets you and anton had bought for the living room specifically. the big blanket was now pulled over you comfortably, making you now very sleepy.
before you could fully fall asleep, you felt a presence right next to you. you didn't have to look to know who it was.
anton crouched down beside the couch, resting one hand against the cushion as he leaned closer.
“.. are you actually sleeping on the couch?” he asked quietly.
instead of answering, you simply turned onto your other side, facing your back to him. you tugged the blanket up under your chin more.
anton let out the smallest sigh. ".. yeah," he mumbled to himself. "i deserve that."
a moment later, you felt the couch shift again.
his arms carefully wrapped around your waist from behind, hesitant at first, almost like he was testing whether you'd push him away. when you didn't, he slowly melted into you instead, holding you against his chest.
you felt yourself relax a bit, feeling the warmth of anton.
his chin rested lightly against your shoulder before he buried his face into the back of your neck, pressing the gentlest kiss there.
"hey.." his voice was barely above a whisper. "i'm sorry."
another soft kiss. "please don't be upset at me."
you stayed quiet.
he knew you were awake, and he also knew you needed time.
".. i know you had a tough day." he continued after a few seconds. "i should've known to at least make you dinner."
his grip tightened just a little around your waist. "i'm sorry for being inconsiderate.. and telling you that you could just cook your own food." he sighed against your skin. "i wasn't thinking clearly."
he paused, rubbing slow circles against your side with his thumb.
"you work so hard.."
his voice softened even more.
".. you deserve to be pampered when you come home."
he nuzzled further into the crook of your neck.
"i'm sorry.." he whispered. "i miss you a lot too. sleeping in an empty bed tonight wouldn't make anything better."
there was another stretch of silence.
".. do you forgive me?"
you stayed still for another few seconds, letting every word settle.
still tucked comfortably in his arms, you gave the tiniest nod— it was barely noticeable.. and to be exact, you were still just being a little stubborn.
anton couldn't help but smile.
his hand gently cupped your cheek, carefully turning your face toward him just enough for your eyes to meet.
there was nothing but guilt and affection.
he leaned forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips before pulling back just enough for his forehead to brush yours.
"c'mon," he smiled hovering over your lips.
"use your words, baby."
".. yes."
his smile immediately grew. before you could say anything else, one arm slipped beneath your knees while the other reached behind your back.
"anton—"
you let out the tiniest laugh as he effortlessly lifted you into a princess carry. your arms naturally looped around his neck, your face finding its usual spot against him.
".. my poor baby," he murmured as he carried you down the hallway.
you smiled to yourself before leaving a trail of tiny kisses along his jaw, then another against his cheek.
".. there she is." he chuckled quietly.
by the time he carried you into the bedroom, the only light left was the little lamp on the nightstand. its warm, golden glow filled the room, making everything feel softer.
anton carefully lowered you onto the bed— pulling the comforter over you, making sure you were completely tucked in before climbing into bed beside you.
with one hand, he reached over and switched off the lamp.
darkness settled around the room, and almost immediately, his arms found you again. he pulled you against his chest until there wasn't even the smallest gap between you.
you let out the quietest sigh, your forehead resting beneath his chin as his hand slowly rubbed up and down your back.
maybe that was all you needed.
just your boyfriend holding you close after a long day, reminding you that no matter how stressful life became— you never had to carry it alone.
SYN . It's a well known joke in the group that Juhoon's got a thing for Martin's older sister. But when the time comes when your boyfriend actually starts slacking off, Juhoon wastes no time to swoop in and take his chances.
-> part one
✏️ . . . wait omg u guys absolutely ate the 1st part up ily??? i hope this pt wont disappoint lolll also guys pls tell me i ate w the ig stories cuz i had to edit them to look like he reposted her story 🤞🏻
✏️ . . . u guys down for pt 3? it's gonna b the last part m if so comment #goodluckjju cuz he's about to be a victim of yn n wonhee's evil duo agenda LOLLLL
aka stan twitter has too much free time (once again) and maps out the entire trajectory of martin and yn’s relationship!
martin x fem & idol! reader — no group specified but alluded to be under hybe!
cw: fan speculation, lame humor, grammatical errors, pet names (babe), mentions of a sasaeng, lowercase intended ; smau
my last post now has a multiverse! /j but this was requested and heavily influenced by that post! tysm for all the love on my smaus 🥹🥹💗 if you enjoy it don't forget to reblog / comment!
luvyn is your main & pusheenfan1234 is your priv!
COMMENTS
pusheenfan1234 teenboisuperpriv omf my manager sent me this jsut now. i thought you were doing enough fan service to keep the loser allegations up and the dating rumors at bay????
teenboisuperpriv i HAVE been though??????
pusheenfan1234 i mean ig bro..?
COMMENTS
user I DONT KNOW WHETHER IM MORE SAD ABOUT MARTIN BEING TAKEN OR YN BEING TAKEN 😭😭😭😭
user goodmorning world I wake up and martin has dating rumors what a morning! but op is actually working overtime on cortis dating rumors 😭😭 first keonho now martin
user martin dating rumors 🤣🤣🤣
teenboisuperpriv hey why r u laughing ..?????? nothings funny ??????
user damn one month after debuting and martin was alr balling out 😭😭
user that doesn’t even look like martin?
user i lowk stopped keeping up with kpop a while ago but this post reminded me how pretty yn is 😭😭
teenboisuperpriv i mwan pusheenfan1234 this one is kinda ur fault 😓👀 likeeee
pusheenfan1234 BUT RHATS LITERALLY ME?? IN YOUR HOODIE ALBEIT BUT THATS ME IN THE STUDIO BC I ALSO JOINED ONE SESSION????
teenboisuperpriv but the people don’t know that! 😆😆😆🤪🤪🤨🧐🤓😎😎🙂↔️🙂↔️😖😫😤😶🌫️😶🌫️🫣🫣
pusheenfan1234 martin edward woojo park stop using stupid emojis im irritated
teenboisuperpriv yes ma’am 🫡🫡
user not a single calm day in coerland
user bro wait aegyo master x aegyo hater someone turn this into a ff asap 🤣🤣😂😂
user wair im sobbing their DOCUMENTARY??? is what got martin into a dating rumor
user pause wld that mean yn started dating martin (hypothetically) before cortis debuted???
pusheenfan1234 dingdingding!!! we have a winner 😓
COMMENTS
coerist bro. these allegations have to be rooted in some deep hatred for martin or yn or smtn bc why is the I hrt nyc shirt getting them into a scandal 😭😭
pusheenfan1234 teenboisuperpriv WHYD U STEAL MY PIC HELLO???? EXACT SAME PIC BTW??? fan alert 🚨 ur jsut a fan booooooo
teenboisuperpriv ACTUALLY I TOOK THAT PICTURE BY MY SELF. must I remind u that we were together when we saw that
pusheenfan1234 oh no i remember very clearly! but why wld u post the picture … knowing that i posted it like two days earlier 😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐
teenboisuperpriv oops..! but u can’t even deny that picture is tuff
user wait i didn’t know that martin even had his own instagram acc… the more u know ig
user well damn. if they actually are dating yn and martin are actually so cute tgtr like they’re both so cool and chic ykwim
user yessss bro u get it 🤤🤤 even if they’re not actually dating their vibes match each other so well
user no right and they’re both producers like they cannot any more perfect for each other than this
user im actually OBSESSED with yn’s tattoos like they’re so pretty 🥹🥹🥹🥹
pusheenfan1234 awe wait this is so sweet I love my tattoos too 🙂↕️🙂↕️
user yn’s so cool. im actually just looking at this thread to look at her insta like
user OMFF THEY COULD HAVE STUDIO DATES THATS SO CUTEEEEEEDHJDJEND
user brb gotta go through all of yn’s songs to see if any of them allude to martin
user keonho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
user ????????
COMMENTS
user The.Height.Difference.
user how much of a sasaengs words can we trust??? for all we know that sasaeng is making everything up
user this!!! sasaengs are weird and have smtn wrong up there like they could’ve ai-ed or taken a picture of random people or smtn… idk
user would they have been so willing to be touchy in public..?? I mean they’re both idols im sure they conscious of their public presence
pusheenfan1234 well…… I AM NORMALLY this was an exception PLEASE THEY JUST CAUGHT ME OFF MY GAME 😭😭
teenboisuperpriv babe… they can’t see your comments
user wait this pic is cute
user you can’t even see their faces tho? what if that’s a random couple off the side of the street
teenboisuperpriv wait babe pusheenfan1234 this is kinda a cute picture 🤣🤣🤣
pusheenfan1234 ikr.. i mean ik we were kinda getting stalked but #fairs
user just let them go on a date in peace
user do we even know if martin and yn know each other like that ..? like they’ve never interacted once publically
user they already look like THE it couple of 5th gen lets wrap it up bc they alr won
user #martiynweloveyou #martiynitcouple #martiyn
user they’re gonna be the jenkai of this generation 🥹🥹
COMMENTS
user im sorry the concept of martin calling ppl noona on a daily basis then having a baddie gf waiting for him at home is so fucking funny 😭😭😭
user NO ACTUALLY LIKE YN DESPISES AEGYO AND MARTIN OUT HERE DOING THE WHOLE NINE YARDS
user ngl I see the vision they’re so cute tgtr
user were they trying to be slick??? 😭😭 their hug literally being shown in the frame and in the reflection of the mirror
pusheenfan1234 oh! teenboisuperpriv I thought we were being slick 😓😓😓
teenboisuperpriv wait me too 😓😓😓😓
user WHAT WE WANT AND CORTIS CONTENT BEING INVOLVED IN MARTINS DATING RUMORS IM SOBBING OMF THIS ISNT DUNNY
user op u are crazy the amount of evidence 😭😭 /pos
user the concept of cortis staff being too used to martiyn pda that they forgot to edit it out ❤️🩹❤️🩹🥹🥹
user that’s actually so cute 🥹 dats mama y papa
user wait i see ryu sarang don’t play i love her 🤤🤤🤤
user martin tackling yn 😭😭 how’d she not fall over
user they be doing all that behind the scenes only for them to never film a challenge together 👎👎👎
user hybe prob worried that they would be doing some tomfoolery if they filmed together 😭😭
teenboisuperpriv sooooooooooooo pusheenfan1234 what do we do
pusheenfan1234 ihhh well my manager said she was going to read some more into the public feedback and tell me what to do then …
teenboisuperpriv DOES THIS MEAN WE CAN GO PUBLIC???
pusheenfan1234 we can’t go public if u keep going viral for this stuff tin…
teenboisuperpriv IT’S PART OF MY JOB DESCRIPTION???
pusheenfan1234 and this is why seonghyeon is better…
⌞the “jungwon’s litter box” universe⌝
𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘸𝘰𝘯 x 𝓯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ᯓ❀ manon & lara (katseye) and yunjin (le sserafim)
synopsis ᛝ jungwon’s convinced that you’ll break up with him the very second he gets rid of his blonde hair.
content: profanity; violent jokes; jungwon lowkey has an anxious attachment style lol; jealousy/possesiveness(?); clinginess; use of a pet name (just ‘baby’ a few times); talks about pregnancy and children (i promise you no one is pregnant tho… yn’s just ovulating lmaoo); just a bunch of random weirdness; and if there are typos just pretend it’s on purpose (i’ll fix it when i see it);
❁✿❀: this is rather self-indulgent… bc i was lowkey missing what signs? (and thinking abt blonde jungwon again. chat if blonde jungwon has no fans then i’m literally dead as hell). so i decided to make this little bonus one-shot chapter LOL.
notes; i am THE number one blonde jungwon enthusiast. #proud. anyways. sorry. lmfao. jlbu jungwon and his relationship with his yn is so special to me. they’re soooo down bad for each other lmao. the cutest couple ever. and they’re the roots… no. the parents… of the entire jungwon’s litter box universe🤭🤗😻😝
— ᨳଓ . In which Jungwon takes "age is just a number" a little too seriously and makes it his personal mission to get Jay’s best friend's best friend to like him back, even if she’s made it painfully clear that younger boys have never been, and never will be, her type.
I wanted to speak on JUNGWON’s live so it’s clear to people because some of you don’t understand even when the leader of the group comes out to speak about it:
Sure, probably the company made him speak up about it, but maybe it’s what’s best. But can’t we all just support them? At the end of the day, we don’t know what’s going behind doors, we don’t know if they were forced to say something, or to stay quiet, we don’t know anything, so why are we assuming stuff. Why can’t we just take Jungwon’s and Jay’s words and accept it.
Enhypen was seven. Enhypen is six.
Heeseung is a soloist. Heeseung used to be in enhypen.
Unfortunately that’s how it is now, and don’t get me wrong, obviously I’m sad because I never thought I’d see the day where Heeseung or any other member left the group but that’s what happened and we need to accept that. Seriously, it’s been five months.
Heeseung is now in his solo journey and if you are a true ever / engene, you will support him and enhypen. There’s no need for comparison, there’s no need to bring down either of them to make the other look better. They were once a team, just because a member left, doesn’t mean that bond is broken.
How bad is the fan wars between those who only support one side and bash the other that jungwon has to come out and tell you to stop?
On twitter, all I see is fan wars, all I see is people bringing the members down to make Heeseung look better, and vice-versa. If I, a regular personal, can see those tweets, you don’t think someone who’s in the public eye can see them too??
Jungwon even brought up the ot7 fanchant topic. Is it sad that it is being erased because a member is no longer part of the team? Of course it is, but we need to learn how to let it go and moved on. Heeseung is releasing music like he wanted to, enhypen is releasing a new album. They’re moving on so we should try.
Next stop for blood saga is Mexico, as a Mexican, seriously don’t embarrass yourself. Same goes for the future stops.
lowk si estoy cayendo en depre para que les miento, pero yo voy apoyar a ENHYPEN y a Heeseung como artistas por que los quiero a los dos, y siempre será así. Odio BeLift. Ahora me iré a llorar ok.
Anywho, I hope I don’t come across as rude, I’m just being honest, night night 👍👍
written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊
𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍⠀ ✶ ⠀ nothing prepared you for translating for enhypen on an eight-month world tour, especially their leader, yang jungwon, who starts speaking to you like it means more than it should, how exactly are you supposed to keep translating everything correctly when even your own thoughts start coming in a language you can’t quite control?
𝟲𝟱𝟱𝟱 🗯️ ✽ ─── ⏾ 𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗹 yang jungwon⠀x ⠀ 𝓯 ! rea ´ ꒳ ` 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : soft romance ˒ mutual pining ˒ longing ˒ fluff with a side of emotional yearning ˒ slow burn 𝓯 𝐭 。 ENHYPEN as their chaotic selves ❤︎
𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 ⠀ ✶ ⠀ 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁
🎐 。 𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 new format, who is THIS !!? thought this idea was super duper cute but i’m 50/50 on how i played it out ˙◠˙ but it’s okay !!! i <33 mi jungwon fluff
Your parents were the kind of people who treated childhood like a launchpad.
Every hobby was a potential career, every interest a future résumé line, every after-school activity an investment in something they could brag about at dinner parties.
It wasn't malice. It was just their way of loving you, through expectations, through achievement, through the quiet satisfaction of watching their kid do something impressive.
Dancing lasted two months. Your body moved like it was being operated by a very determined committee that had never met each other. Your instructor, a gentle woman named Ms. Kang who had probably seen it all, suggested maybe you'd find more joy in something that didn't require your limbs to cooperate. You were seven. You agreed wholeheartedly.
Singing lasted three weeks. You loved music, truly, but the moment you stood in front of even a small group, your throat sealed itself shut like a vault. Your voice came out as something between a whisper and a dog whining for dinner. The stage and you were simply not on speaking terms.
Painting stuck around longer. A year, maybe. You loved the smell of acrylic and the way colors looked before they got mixed into something muddy. You loved smearing blue into white and watching it become a sky that only existed on cheap canvas. But your mother watched you paint one afternoon and said, gently, "It's pretty, sweetheart. But you don't love it the way you need to love something to be great at it." And she was right, annoyingly. You liked painting. You didn't live for it.
Languages, though. Languages were different.
It started the way most things in your life started: your parents decided your family should travel. A lot. Your mother was convinced that raising globally-minded children required exposure, and your father, who had the kind of job that made frequent international trips possible, agreed enthusiastically. By the time you were ten, you had been to fourteen countries, and your siblings handled it the way most kids handle constant uprooting: with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. They collected keychains from airports and fell asleep on long-haul flights.
You collected phrases.
It wasn't deliberate at first. You'd land in a new place and find yourself listening, really listening, to the rhythm of the language being spoken around you. The cadence of it, the way certain sounds rolled or clicked or hummed. In Madrid, you learned to order orange juice before you learned the word for bathroom. In Tokyo, you mastered the art of bowing and apologizing before you could count to ten. In São Paulo, a woman at a fruit stall taught you how to say "this is the best mango you'll ever eat" and she was right, and the phrase lived in your mouth like a song you didn't want to forget.
Your parents noticed. Of course they did. They noticed the way you'd come back from a trip speaking fragments of a new language, the way you'd write down words in a notebook you carried everywhere, the way you'd consume foreign films without subtitles just to see how much you could understand. And for once, for the very first time, their investment and your passion aligned perfectly.
They hired tutors. They bought software. They enrolled you in immersion programs that had you spending summers in cities where no one spoke your native language. You devoured all of it. You weren't learning because you were supposed to. You were learning because every new language felt like being handed a key to a room you didn't know existed, and inside that room were millions of people you could suddenly talk to.
By the time you were twenty-two, you spoke seven languages with varying degrees of fluency. Korean, Japanese, English, Mandarin, Spanish, Portuguese, and French. The first three were near-native. The rest were more than functional and getting better every day. You could switch between them the way some people switch between apps on their phone, quickly, thoughtlessly, and with the casual confidence of someone who genuinely didn't think it was that impressive.
Other people did, though. Other people thought it was very impressive.
That was how you ended up in this industry. A translating agency recruited you straight out of university after a professor mentioned you in a professional context, and within a year, you had built a reputation that most people took a decade to achieve. You were requested by name. Companies specified you in contracts. Managers called your agency not to ask for a translator but to ask for you. You were fast, accurate, and most importantly, you understood that translation wasn't just about converting words. It was about carrying feeling across a border without dropping it.
Jokes were your specialty, which sounded trivial until you saw how many translators butchered them. Humor didn't translate literally. Puns collapsed. Sarcasm evaporated. Timing warped. But you had a gift for finding the emotional equivalent, the phrase in the target language that made someone laugh at the same moment the original speaker intended. You treated every joke like a small bridge and built it carefully, and artists loved you for it.
So when a company reached out about an eight-month world tour for ENHYPEN, a group that was actively conquering markets in Japan, the Americas, Europe, and Southeast Asia, your agency didn't hesitate. They sent you.
You packed your bags, reviewed your terminology glossaries, and showed up at the first tour meeting with a notebook, three pens, and the quiet certainty that you were about to spend the better part of a year living out of suitcases alongside seven boys you'd never met.
The first day was chaos, but the good kind.
You arrived at the agency building early, which was a habit you couldn't break even if you wanted to. The meeting room was large and mostly empty, with a long table covered in printed schedules that already looked overwhelming. A tour coordinator was setting up a presentation, and the staff was drifting in with the slow energy of people who knew the real work hadn't started yet.
ENHYPEN filed in a few minutes later, and you observed them the way you always observed new clients, not to judge, but to read. You needed to understand their group dynamic, their communication styles, who was the talker, who was the listener, who needed space, who needed reassurance. It was part of the job, even if nobody had ever put it on your official responsibilities list.
Heeseung walked in first, loose and easy, the kind of person who made any room feel slightly more relaxed just by being in it. Jay followed, already mid-sentence about something, talking to Jake, who was nodding along with the enthusiastic attentiveness of a golden retriever being told about a walk. Sunghoon entered with the practiced calm of someone who knew people were looking at him and had made peace with it. Sunoo was close behind, bright-eyed and already scanning the room with a warmth that felt almost tactile. Riki, tall, relaxed, radiating the specific confidence of someone who was young and knew exactly how good he was, strolled in last but somehow commanded attention anyway.
And then there was Jungwon.
He came in somewhere in the middle of the group, not leading and not trailing, just naturally positioned in a way that suggested he was the center they orbited around without realizing it.
He was younger than you expected a leader to be, with a face that people probably mistook for soft until they heard him speak. There was something steady about him. Not loud, not aggressive, just present. The way he glanced around the room, checking that everyone was settling in, clocking each member's position without making it obvious. It was instinct. You recognized it because it was the same instinct you had, the one that made you scan a room for what was needed before anyone had to ask.
He noticed you almost immediately. You were sitting off to the side, clearly not staff but not a manager either, and his eyes lingered for a beat longer than casual observation before he smiled, polite, professional, the kind of smile he probably gave to everyone he was introduced to in a work setting.
"Hi," he said, stepping over. "You're the translator?"
You nodded, standing up. "Y/N. Nice to meet you."
"Jungwon." He extended his hand, and you shook it. His grip was firm but not performative. "We've had translators before, but never one for the whole tour. We're excited."
"I'll try to make your lives easier, not harder."
"You already are," he said, and the way he said it, simple, like it was a fact rather than a compliment, caught you slightly off guard. You were used to people being polite. You weren't used to people being sincere this quickly.
The other members drifted over one by one, and the introductions escalated in energy the way they always did with groups of young men who spent too much time together.
Jake shook your hand and immediately said, "Please tell me you'll be at the Japan stops. I have so many things I want to say to fans that I can't say in Japanese and it's killing me."
"You'll be fine," you said. "I've got you."
He clasped his hands together like he was praying. "You're already my favorite person on this tour."
Sunghoon gave you a composed nod and said, "I heard you speak seven languages," with the tone of someone who was impressed but refusing to show it.
"Seven and a half," you said. "I'm working on Italian."
He raised an eyebrow. "And a half," he repeated, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Sunoo introduced himself with a smile that could probably end wars and immediately asked what languages you spoke, then proceeded to test you by saying hello in four of them in rapid succession. You responded to all four without pause, and his face split into the most delighted grin you'd seen from anyone in your professional life.
"That's so cool," he said, and he meant it, and it was impossible not to smile back.
Riki, who had been leaning against the wall observing the whole thing, pushed off and strolled over. "What about slang?" he asked. "Can you translate slang?"
"Depends on the slang," you said. "Try me."
He said something in Korean that was absolutely not appropriate for a first meeting, and you laughed, genuinely surprised, before translating it into Japanese and then English, both versions equally incorrect for a professional setting. Jay, who had been listening from his chair, let out a startled laugh.
"She didn't even hesitate," Jay said, looking at Riki. "You're going to have to try harder than that."
Riki looked delighted. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Heeseung, the last to come over, gave you a warm, easy greeting and then said, very kindly, "Ignore them. They're going to test you constantly. It means they like you."
"I can handle it," you said.
"Yeah," Heeseung said, smiling. "I think you can."
Jungwon was watching the whole exchange from his seat, and when your eyes met his, he gave you a small nod, not a smile, not words, just that nod. It felt like an acknowledgment. Like he'd already decided something about you, and the decision was good.
The tour began, and your life became a blur of airport codes and hotel keycards.
You learned the rhythm of a world tour faster than you expected. The cycle was always some version of the same: fly, arrive, check in, rehearsals, press, perform, pack, fly again. The countries changed but the schedule didn't, and you adapted to it the way you adapted to everything, by paying attention and finding your place in the machine.
Your actual job was straightforward in theory. You translated during interviews, press conferences, fan interactions, and any event where language barriers existed. You relayed questions from international journalists, converted the members' answers in real time, and helped them navigate meet-and-greets with fans who spoke languages they didn't. But the job grew. It always grew.
Within the first two weeks, you were also helping them order food in restaurants where the menu was entirely in Portuguese. By week three, you were the person they came to when they needed to understand a customs form in France. By week four, you had somehow become the unofficial guide for navigating public transit in cities where even the GPS looked confused. You didn't mind. This was the part of the job nobody wrote into contracts but was the reason you were good at it, you didn't just translate. You had a way of making foreign places less foreign.
And somewhere in those first few weeks, you noticed something small.
Jungwon always said good morning to you first.
Not in a group way. Not as part of a general greeting he threw at everyone in the room. He specifically found you. Sometimes it was in the hotel lobby at 6 AM when the group was assembled for departure, and he'd break away from the members to walk over. Sometimes it was in the green room before a show, and he'd catch your eye across the chaos and mouth it. Sometimes it was a text — simple, no pretense:
Jungwon [7:16 AM]: Good morning. Ready for today?
It was such a small thing. You didn't overthink it. Leaders were considerate; that was part of the job description. But then the small things started adding up, and the sum was harder to ignore.
He remembered that you put exactly one sugar in your coffee and would silently slide one toward you when the catering setup ran out. He remembered that your least favorite part of the job was simultaneous translation during loud events because the noise gave you headaches, and he started keeping earplugs in his bag, not for himself, because you'd never seen him use them, and would place them on the table next to you before press conferences in venues with terrible acoustics. He remembered that you were studying Italian, and one day, completely out of nowhere, he said "Come stai?" in a pronunciation so earnestly incorrect that you had to take a second to recover before answering.
"Your accent," you said, pressing your lips together to stop the smile.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. It's very—charming."
"I'll take charming," he said, and you watched him walk away with the expression of someone who had just filed that word away somewhere safe.
The other members noticed his behavior before you did, because of course they did. They lived in each other's pockets and had the observational skills of a surveillance team.
"Jungwon-hyung keeps finding reasons to talk to you," Riki said one afternoon, casual as anything, while you were sitting backstage waiting for a radio interview to start. He was sprawled across a couch with his phone held above his face, not even looking at you.
"He's the leader," you said. "He talks to everyone, no?"
"Yeah, but nah, not like this." Riki's thumbs were moving rapidly on his screen. "He asked me yesterday if I knew any good memes. Me? Memes! He hasn't asked me about memes since we debuted."
"Maybe he's just expanding his interests."
"He said he needed one you'd understand." Riki flipped his phone down and looked at you with the specific, unblinking stare of a twenty-year-old who had just delivered what he considered to be devastating evidence. "He's googling memes in languages he doesn't speak so you'll explain them to him."
"Hopelessly obvious? I was going to say dedicated."
"Same thing," he said, and went back to his phone.
The months blurred together, and you became a constant.
Not a guest. Not a temp. Not a contractor who showed up for the work portion and disappeared during the downtime. You were there. You were in the airport terminals at 4 AM when everyone was too exhausted to function properly, holding coffee orders in your head because you'd memorized what each member preferred. You were in the hotel lobbies at midnight, still awake because someone needed help with a live broadcast that had international fans asking questions in three different languages. You were in the backstage rooms, the dressing areas, the tour bus, the weird gaps of time between events where everyone was too tired to entertain but too wired to sleep.
You became the person they turned toward without thinking.
Jake raised his hand for you during a Japanese interview when he forgot the word he wanted to use, and you supplied it without missing a beat, and he kept talking as if nothing had happened, because to him, nothing had. Your presence was that seamless. Jay started including you in conversations without translating first, then catching himself and laughing, saying "Sorry, I forgot not everyone in the room speaks Korean" even though you did, in fact, speak Korean. Heeseung asked you to help him write a birthday message for a staff member in Mandarin and was so genuinely grateful that he brought you snacks for the rest of the week. Sunghoon, who communicated primarily through glances and the occasional comment, started directing his comments at you specifically, and the fact that you always caught them and returned fire with equal precision made something warm flicker in his expression. Sunoo texted you in every language he knew, which was two and a half, just to practice, and you corrected his grammar with such dedication that he started calling you his language unni, even though you weren't strictly older.
Riki kept pushing your boundaries in the best way, and you kept pushing back, and somewhere along the line, the two of you developed a rapport built on mutual chaos. He would toss out slang in Korean just to see if you'd catch the nuance, and you would translate it into something equally irreverent in whatever language was required, and the two of you would share a look of pure satisfaction while the adults in the room sighed.
And Jungwon.
Jungwon, who somehow managed to be everywhere you were without making it obvious. Jungwon, who sat next to you on the bus more often than probability could justify. Jungwon, who asked about your day with a level of sincerity that made the question feel like it actually meant something. Jungwon, who fell asleep on your shoulder once during an overnight flight and woke up mortified, apologizing so many times that you finally said "If you apologize one more time, I'm going to translate your apology into six languages so everyone on this plane can hear it," and he stopped immediately, pressing his lips together, ears pink.
You saw the things he didn't show the crowds.
You saw him sitting alone before shows, running through setlists in his head with the intensity of someone who couldn't afford to make a mistake. You saw the way he checked on each member individually, a hand on Heeseung's shoulder, a quiet word to Jake, a nudge for Riki, adjusting, supporting, leading without ever calling attention to the fact that he was doing it. You saw the exhausted version of him, the one who pushed through a three-city day on four hours of sleep and still managed to perform like the weight of the group was something he carried willingly, not something that was crushing him.
You also saw the moments when it almost was.
Late one night in Berlin, after a day so long it had stretched across two calendar dates, you found him in the hallway outside the hotel rooms. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, phone dark in his lap, staring at nothing. Not sad, exactly. Just drained in a way that went deeper than physical tiredness.
You lowered yourself onto the floor beside him. You didn't say anything. You'd learned by now that Jungwon didn't always need words, which was almost funny, given your profession.
A minute passed. Then he exhaled, slow and heavy.
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing enough," he said quietly. Not to you, exactly. More into the space between you. "For them. For the team. Everyone works so hard, and I'm supposed to—don't know. Hold it together. Make sure nobody falls through the cracks."
"You do," you said.
"You don't know that. You haven't been here long enough to know if I'm—"
"Jungwon." Your voice was gentle but firm. "I've been here for five months. I've watched you check on every single member before every single show. I've watched you stay late to go over choreography with Riki. I've watched you make sure Sunoo eats when he's nervous. I've watched you include Heeseung in decisions even though he's older than you and you don't have to. I've watched you apologize to staff when schedules run over even though it's not your fault." You paused. "You're doing enough. You're doing more than enough. And the fact that you're sitting in a hallway at 1 AM worrying about whether you're doing enough is, honestly, proof that you are."
He didn't respond right away. He turned his head to look at you, and in the dim light of the hotel corridor, his expression was open in a way you'd never seen during work hours. Unguarded. Young, almost.
"Thank you," he said.
"Don't thank me. I'm just the translator."
He almost smiled. Almost. "You're not just the translator."
A beat.
You let that sit there for a moment. Then you nudged his shoulder with yours, lightly.
"Come on. You need to sleep. We have a 5 AM call tomorrow."
"We always have a 5 AM call tomorrow."
"I know. That's why you need to sleep."
He got up, and when he offered you his hand to help you up, you took it, and he held on for maybe one second longer than necessary before letting go.
That night, in your room, you stared at the ceiling for a long time.
The tour wound through Southeast Asia, then back to Japan, then across to the Americas. Eight months shrank into what felt like eight weeks, and by the time the European leg was drawing to a close, you had translated in twenty-three countries and lost count of how many interviews, fan signs, and press conferences you'd navigated. Your languages had gotten sharper, your instincts faster, your bond with the members deeper.
You knew their speech patterns. You knew that Heeseung tended to trail off at the end of sentences when he was being thoughtful, and you'd learned to hold the translation for a beat longer to make sure he was truly finished. You knew that Jay was precise and deliberate, and you matched his clarity in every target language. You knew that Jake spoke quickly when he was excited and that his enthusiasm was its own kind of punctuation, and you made sure the translation carried that warmth. You knew that Sunghoon was economical with words and that every word he chose mattered, so you translated him with the same careful weight. You knew that Sunoo's brightness was genuine and that making it land in another language required not just accuracy but tenderness. You knew that Riki's playfulness was sharp and smart, and you never softened the edge because he didn't want it softened.
And you knew Jungwon. You knew his cadence better than any language you spoke. The way he built an argument, the way he softened a criticism, the way he gave praise, quiet, specific, never empty. You could translate him in your sleep. You almost had, once, during a 6 AM live interview in Madrid where you'd been running on two hours of rest and pure adrenaline.
You also knew that somewhere in those eight months, the feeling in your chest when he said good morning had stopped being simple and started being complicated.
But you were good at your job. You were professional. You did not let complicated feelings leak into your translations, and you did not let the warmth in his voice when he said your name change the way you did your work, and you did not, absolutely did not, let yourself think about the fact that he had started sitting close enough that your shoulders touched during press conferences, or that he'd started saying your name differently than everyone else's, softer at the edges, like it was something he wanted to hold carefully.
You were fine. You were completely, entirely, absolutely fine.
The press conference in London was the second-to-last event of the tour.
It was a big one, a room full of international journalists, cameras, and the specific buzz that came with the end of a long run. The members were seated in a row at a long table, microphones in front of them, the ENHYPEN logo glowing on the backdrop behind them. You were positioned off to the side, close enough to hear everything, close enough to be called upon, with your earpiece in and your voice ready.
The questions started predictably. What was the highlight of the tour? What was the hardest part? Which city surprised them the most? The members took turns answering, and you translated smoothly, shifting between English, Japanese, and Mandarin depending on the journalist who'd asked. It was mechanical by now. Second nature. You could do this in your sleep, and some days it felt like you were.
Then a journalist toward the back raised her hand. She stood up when called on, and her question was delivered in English with a slight German accent.
"This tour has taken you through so many different countries and cultures. What has helped you adapt to all of those changes throughout the year? What's been the constant?"
A nice question. A predictable question. The kind of question that usually got answers like "each other" or "the fans" or "our passion for performing." You expected Heeseung or Jay to take it, deliver something polished and sincere, and move on.
Jungwon reached for his microphone.
The other members glanced at him, not surprised, he often took the bigger-picture questions, but watchful. Jungwon had a way of answering that was never rehearsed but always felt deliberate, like he'd been thinking about it for longer than the moment allowed.
He started in Korean, and you began translating simultaneously, your voice layering over his in English for the room.
"I want to thank someone," he said, and you translated it, and the room's attention sharpened.
"Our translator."
You kept translating. Your voice didn't waver. Your pace didn't change. But something in your chest pulled tight, because he was looking at you when he said it, not at the journalist, not at the cameras, and you were already a third of a second behind, which never happened.
"She makes unfamiliar places feel less intimidating," Jungwon continued, and you translated each phrase almost as quickly as he spoke it, your professional voice steady, even as the words he was choosing made your breath come shorter. "She notices when we're struggling before anyone else does. She explains things before we even have to ask. She works harder than most people realize."
A ripple went through the room. The journalist who'd asked the question smiled, clearly charmed, but also clearly expecting this to be a brief, polite acknowledgment. Jungwon wasn't done.
"She translates jokes," he said, and his voice was lighter now, almost warm. "Not just the words. The actual feeling of the joke. Do you know how hard that is?" He looked at the audience. "She makes like, what? Six? Seven? Eight? Languages sound effortless. And she does it every single day, in every country, without ever making it seem like it's difficult. She makes it seem like the most natural thing in the world. And it's not. I know it's not."
You were translating. You were still translating. Your voice was level and clear and professional, and the words coming out of your mouth were his words, and every single one of them was landing somewhere behind your ribs.
"I want to say that the reason we were able to adapt to so many countries this year, the reason we never felt lost, the reason we always felt like we could handle whatever came next, is because she was there. She was always there."
He paused. The room was quiet. The other journalists had stopped shuffling. The cameras had stopped clicking. Even the members beside him had gone still, and you could feel the weight of their attention shifting between Jungwon and you without having to look.
"So thank you," he said, and his voice was steady and sincere and full of something that you could name but wouldn't, not here, not now. "Thank you for making the world smaller."
You translated the last sentence. Your voice held. Your hands, resting on the table in front of you, were trembling slightly, but nobody could see that, and your voice, your voice was perfect.
The room broke into applause. The journalist sat down with a pleased expression, already writing. The moment passed, and the press conference resumed, and you went back to doing your job the way you'd done it for eight months: flawlessly, consistently, as if nothing had happened.
But something had happened, and both of you knew it.
The clip hit the internet within an hour.
By the time the group was back at the hotel, it was everywhere. Fan accounts had clipped the moment, subtitled it in five languages, and captioned it with variations of "i’m tweaking the hell out" and "jungwon thanking their translator is the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen 🥹." Media outlets had picked it up too, with headlines calling it "the most thoughtful moment of the tour" and "ENHYPEN's leader credits their translator as the group's anchor."
You were sitting in the common area of the hotel suite they'd commandeered, pretending to review tomorrow's schedule on your phone, when the teasing started.
It started, predictably, with Sunghoon.
He walked into the room with his phone held up, playing the clip at a volume that was absolutely intentional, and sat down across from you with the serene expression of someone who was about to cause problems and enjoy every second of it.
"That sounded a lot like a confession," he said.
You didn't look up from your phone. "It sounded like a thank-you speech."
"It sounded like a confession," Sunghoon repeated, louder this time, making sure the others in the room heard.
Jay, who was sprawled on the couch with a bottle of water, looked up from his own phone. "He's right. I just watched it again. You spent three straight minutes listing her accomplishments, Jungwon. It was like you were introducing a distinguished guest speaker at an award ceremony."
Jungwon, who had been standing near the window with the specific body language of someone trying very hard to appear casual, turned around. "I was answering the question?"
"The question was about what helped you adapt," Jay said. "You gave a TED Talk about one person."
"I answered thoroughly."
"You answered personally," Sunghoon corrected.
Jake, who had been quiet until now, raised his hand from his spot on the floor where he was stretching. "Can I say something?"
"You're going to say something anyway," Riki called from the adjacent room.
"I've known Jungwon for years," Jake said, sitting up. "Years. I have never—and I mean never—been spoken about with the level of admiration he just used for our translator. I'm not offended. I'm just stating a fact, you know? That was unprecedented."
"You're offended," Riki said, wandering in.
"I'm not—okay, maybe a little. He's never called me the reason the world feels smaller."
"Nobody's ever called you that," Sunoo said, emerging from the hallway with a bag of chips. "Because nobody would."
Jake gasped. "Wow."
Sunoo sat down next to you, unaffected, and popped a chip into his mouth. Then he turned to Jungwon with an expression of pure, angelic innocence. "You've never talked about anyone that way before, though. Have you, Jungwon?"
Jungwon's jaw tightened. "I was being sincere. She deserves to be recognized."
"She does," Sunoo agreed. "And you recognized her. Very thoroughly. Very specifically. Very—what's the word—"
"Romantically," Riki supplied.
"I was going to say elaborately, but romantically works too," Sunoo said.
Riki pulled out his phone. "I've been rereading the translated snippets," he announced, and then cleared his throat with theatrical importance. "She notices when we're struggling before anyone else does." He said it in an exaggeratedly emotional voice, clutching his chest, his pronunciation deliberately dramatic. "She explains things before we even have to ask."
"Stop," Jungwon said.
"She makes the world feel smaller," Riki continued, now genuinely acting, one hand raised to the ceiling like he was in a drama. "She works harder than most people realize—"
"Dude, I’m gonna throw salt in your coffee tomorrow," Jungwon said.
"—and I just want to say, the reason we were able to adapt is because she was there." Riki placed his hand over his heart. "She was always there."
The room erupted. Jay was laughing with his head thrown back. Jake had collapsed sideways onto the floor. Sunoo was grinning so wide it probably hurt. Sunghoon was watching the whole thing with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had lit the match and was now enjoying the fire. Heeseung, who had been in the bathroom, emerged mid-scene, assessed the situation in two seconds, and leaned against the doorframe with a knowing smile.
"That's enough," Jungwon said, and his voice was firm but his ears were bright red, and the room could see it, and the room was not letting it go.
"You essentially wrote her a love letter," Jay said, recovering. "In front of the entire international press corps."
"Hey, that wasn’t a love letter—"
"You said she makes unfamiliar places feel less intimidating," Sunghoon said. "That’s practically close enough to count as a confession."
"You said she works harder than most people realize," Jake added. "That's a love letter with—whatchamacallit—citations."
"You said thank you for making the world smaller," Sunoo said, calm and devastating. "That's a love letter, a poem, and a confession at the same time."
Jungwon looked at you. For one brief, unguarded second, his eyes met yours, and in them you could see everything, the frustration, the embarrassment, the warmth underneath both. Then he looked away.
"I was being professional," he said.
"You made her translate her own compliment in real time," Heeseung said from the doorframe, arms crossed. "Quit playing."
That got another wave of laughter, and you felt your face heat up, because — yes. You had translated every word. You had stood there and converted his words into English and Japanese and Mandarin while he said them directly to you, and your voice had stayed professional, but your heart had been doing something very unprofessional the entire time.
"Actually, now that I think about it," Sunghoon said, leaning forward with the glint of someone delivering a closing argument, "this is the first time all tour that she stumbled over a translation."
Every head turned to you.
"I didn't stumble," you said.
"You paused," Sunoo said.
"I paused for half a second? That's not stumbling, if so, I was probably just catching my breath."
"That's stumbling for you," Jay said. "You've been flawless for eight months. Jungwon says something nice about you and suddenly you're half a second behind?"
"I was adjusting for his sentence structure."
"His sentence structure?" Riki repeated, delighted. "You've translated his sentence structure perfectly for eight months!"
"Silly, you're translating his emotions, not his grammar!" Jake added, pointing at you like a lawyer who'd just found a contradiction.
The room dissolved again. You pressed your lips together and stared at your phone and absolutely did not smile, because if you smiled, they would never let either of you live.
Jungwon, to his credit, held out longer than expected. He denied it twice more, with increasingly flimsy justifications, and each denial only dug him deeper because every excuse he gave was more personal than the last. "I was just being thoughtful" became "She's important to the team" became "I notice things about her because I—" and then he stopped, and the room held its breath, and he said "because I pay attention to the people around me," and the room exhaled in a collective noise of disappointment and amusement.
Later, after the noise had died down and the members had scattered to their rooms and the hotel had gone quiet, you were sitting on the edge of your bed with your earpiece out, your work bag unpacked, and your heart was still doing something it had no business doing at this hour.
Your phone buzzed.
A message from Jungwon.
Jungwon [9:13 PM]: Did you translate everything correctly?
You stared at it. Typed back.
You [9:14 PM] Yup! Every single word ☺️
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Jungwon [9:14 PM]: Good :)
A pause. Then:
Jungwon [9:15 PM]: I wanted to make sure you heard it exactly the way I meant it
God damn it, Jungwon.
You read the message four times. Then a fifth. Then you set the phone down on the bed beside you and stared at the ceiling, and the ceiling offered no help whatsoever, because the ceiling was a ceiling and you were a person who had just received a text that was not a confession except that it absolutely was, in every way that mattered, in every language you spoke.
Your phone buzzed again.
Jungwon [9:18 PM]: Goodnight 😊
You picked it up. Your thumbs hovered. Your heart was loud and insistent and thoroughly unprofessional.
You [9:19 PM]: Sweet dreams, Jungwon :-)
You sent it. You set the phone down. You pulled the blanket up to your chin and lay there in the dark of a London hotel room, in a country that wasn't yours, in a language that was, and you thought about a boy who had spent eight months learning how to say good morning in Italian just to hear you correct his accent, and who searched up memes he didn't understand just to give you a reason to explain them, and who sat on hotel floors and let you see the parts of him that the spotlights didn't reach, and who stood in front of an entire press corps and said your name like it was the most important word in the whole entire dictionary.
You thought about the fact that he wanted to make sure you heard it exactly the way he meant it.
You thought about the fact that you had. You had heard every word, in every language, in the only one that mattered.
And somewhere down the hall, in a room of the same hotel, Jungwon was probably staring at his own ceiling, phone on his chest, replaying your yes, every word on loop, holding onto it the way he held onto everything, quietly, carefully, and with the kind of sincerity that definitely did make the whole world feel smaller.
Not because the distances shrank.
But because someone had crossed them for you.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @wonscapes @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @yejisair777 @kristynaaah @heesroses @vmpiricou @seungiesdoll @malibluess @stwryun @hooniluhv @rikisn @hazeheart12 @exclipszz @melancholatte @bluepains @gojopolo @jasmineeeee1009 @ming1luvr @ni-k1ttie @enzsstuff01 @willothewispbf @emvss @simjaeyunslut @luvlyjaemin @kikizzz0 @ilovhoonie @prettygirlthings-world @jaesim @luv4dani @perristar @bkatarina @fialtorelle @slutforaz | send an ask if you’d like to be added ˙𐃷˙
🎹 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ഒ glue song by beabadoobee
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
synopsis: who knew a random doom scrolling session could lead you to find the love (?) of your life? lee anton definitely didn't.
› pairings & contents: lee anton of riize x soloist!reader
✧ warnings: the dates mentioned do not reflect real life whatsoever. anton is an overthinker, riize members tease anton, but that's about it. mostly in anton pov!
april 3rd, 2026
anton wasn't supposed to be watching your vlog.
if anyone asked, he was supposed to be asleep, actually.
the clock beside his bed had already passed one in the morning, and tomorrow's schedule started early enough that even scrolling through social media felt like a bad idea. the dorm was unusually quiet for once. wonbin had disappeared into his room hours ago, sohee's gaming setup was finally silent, and anton had every intention of putting his phone down and getting at least six hours of sleep.
instead, he found himself staring at a twenty-minute vlog from a soloist he had never paid much attention to before.
it wasn't even intentional.
a clip from one of your videos had appeared on his twitter timeline while he was scrolling through fan updates. someone had reposted a funny moment where you were arguing with your manager about coffee.
— "three americanos isn't that bad."
— "yes, it is."
— "for who?"
— "for everyone around you."
the clip ended with you laughing so hard you nearly dropped your camera.
anton had smiled.
then clicked on the original video. that had been nearly an hour ago. now he was three vlogs deep.
most idol vlogs felt polished. carefully edited, including riize's own, he'll admit. everything cuts down to show only the best moments. but yours? yours weren't like that. or maybe they were, but they didn't feel like it. half the footage seemed completely random.
you forgetting your charger.
you accidentally ordering the wrong drink.
you getting lost inside a building you'd apparently visited dozens of times before.
there wasn't anything particularly special happening, and yet anton found himself watching until the very end.
when the video finally finished, youtube immediately recommended another one. he stared at the thumbnail, then clicked it.
just one more.
april 12th, 2026
it became a habit before he realized it was one. whenever a new vlog appeared, he watched it. whenever your company uploaded behind-the-scenes footage, he watched that too.
sometimes it happened after schedules, sometimes during dinner, sometimes at four in the morning when he should have been sleeping & had schedules at 8 AM.
at first he told himself it was because your content was entertaining. like, you were funny — you had the ability to make someone laugh till their stomach hurt, naturally, and to his defense, you're gorgeous too!
but then he decided it was because your videos were relaxing.
eventually he stopped trying to explain it altogether.
he simply looked forward to them.
one afternoon, anton was sitting in the practice room waiting for the others to finish changing when a notification appeared on his phone.
a new vlog uploaded.
YouTube • 2m ago
Y/N'S DIGITAL DIARY
"come get iced coffee w me & talk about nothing & everything! 𖤐"
& his thumb moved before his brain could stop it.
"what are you smiling at?"
anton nearly dropped his phone. sohee sat down beside him, immediately suspicious.
"nothing."
"that's definitely not nothing."
"it's just youtube—."
"whose video?"
anton locked his screen, which, unfortunately, was the worst possible response.
sohee's eyes widened.
"oh."
"what?"
"oh my god."
"what?"
"there's someone."
"there is not."
"there is."
"there isn't."
sohee looked delighted, which was a problem, because the second sohee knew something, everybody knew something.
sure enough, less than five minutes later, anton walked into a room filled with grinning faces.
"hmm i heard our anton has a crush." sungchan teased.
"i don't, hyung! i was just watching youtube before sohee ran w his loud mouth!"
"you do."
"i don't."
"who is she?"
"there's no she, why did you guys assume i was watching a girl's video?!"
wonbin looked up from his phone, with the teasing grin on his face (that briize love)
"there's definitely a she."
anton considered leaving the practice room entirely.
the truth was, he wasn't even sure if it counted as a crush yet. you were still mostly a person on a screen. someone he'd never properly met, someone he only knew through edited videos and short clips, but somehow he'd started noticing little things.
the way you switched between english and korean without thinking.
the way you always thanked staff members, even in subtle moments.
the way your smile changed when something genuinely surprised you.
small things.
ridiculous things.
the kind of details people only noticed when they were paying far too much attention...
and anton was definitely paying too much attention.
april 21st, 2026
the first time he saw you in person felt strangely disappointing. backstage at some mnet thing.
not because you weren't pretty— if anything, you were prettier. fuck, you took his breath away. not because you weren't nice. he hadn't spoken to you long enough to know.
it was disappointing because he suddenly realized how little he actually knew you.
anton was walking through the backstage hallways at music bank when he spotted you.
for a moment he almost didn't recognize you. there was no vlog camera, or your phone in sight.
definitely no cheerful editing, subtitles & background music.
you just looked . . . tired.
your manager was talking about schedule changes while you listened quietly, nodding every few seconds. you weren't laughing. you were just... working. just another idol trying to survive a busy, brutally scheduled day.
something about that realization made his stomach twist. because in all honesty, for weeks, he'd felt like he knew you.
not completely, but enough.
and now, standing twenty feet away, he understood how ridiculous that was.
he didn't know you at all.
he knew videos, he knew edited moments, he knew what you or your company had chosen to show. nothing more.
as if sensing his stare, you glanced up. your eyes met briefly, anton immediately looked away, then mentally kicked himself. when he looked back, you were already approaching.
you stopped a few feet away and offered a polite bow.
"hello, sunbaenim! i'm a big fan of riize!,"your voice sounded exactly the same as it did in your videos. you gave him a smile, the same one you gave to your staff, your fans.
for some reason, that only made him more nervous.
"hello, Y/N-nim,"
smooth. very smooth. awkward, yes, but hopefully smooth? he sounded like he'd forgotten every language he'd ever learned.
thankfully, you smiled again. a small one, but a smile nonetheless. it was friendly. then continued down the hallway, after another polite bow, and anton bowed back.
the interaction lasted maybe three seconds, okay, maybe five.
but anton thought about it for the rest of the week.
may 9th, 2026
your first actual conversation with lee anton happened because of coffee, which felt fitting. anton was waiting in line between rehearsals when he heard a familiar voice nearby.
"i'm serious."
english.
your voice.
— "if i drink another americano this week, i'm pretty sure i'll achieve enlightenment."
anton laughed before he could stop himself.
you turned, recognition immediately crossing your face.
— "you heard that?"
"kind of hard not to."
you glanced down at the iced americano in your hand, then back at him.
"...okay, that's fair."
he laughed again. and suddenly, somehow, talking wasn't difficult anymore.
conversation flowed naturally. honestly, both of you speaking english made it easier, somehow. it was comfortable, familiar, even.
you asked about schedules & lollapalooza. he asked about promotions. one conversation became another, then another, and before anton realized it, the version of you he'd built from months of watching videos had slowly started being replaced by the real thing.
the real you laughed less often than vlog-you, if that makes sense. but when you did laugh, it felt more genuine. the real you got annoyed when you were hungry, which is very valid, the real you complained about schedules, the real you wasn't always cheerful, wasn't always polished.
and shit, he liked that too. truly, anton liked that version far more.
he liked every version of you. the one you were on stage, the one you were in your vlogs and definitely the one you were in real life.
well, fuck.
june 2nd, 2026
the kpop festival in osaka had finally ended. the crowd was gone, it was past 12 AM, the noise had faded. for the first time all day, everything felt quiet. weeks ago, when the lineup was announced and anton saw your name — he knew he had to get closer to you. in whatever way he could.
the universe seemed to be in favor of him.
anton sat beside you backstage while staff rushed around preparing for departure, neither of you had spoken much during the last few minutes.
you looked exhausted, so did he, but neither of you seemed particularly eager to move. your shoulder brushed his, very lightly, accidentally. you should've pulled away when you felt that little friction but neither of you pulled away. anton stared ahead for a moment before glancing sideways, you were already looking at him.
something shifted
it was subtle but impossible to ignore.
the air suddenly felt different, he couldn't explain it, he felt like a crazy person— maybe it was because the two of you had been spending more time together lately. texting & calling counts as spending time, no? you two sent each other memes & tiktoks back and forth, that must count. or maybe it was because your conversations lasted longer now.
or maybe it was because somewhere between random texts and shared coffees and late-night phone calls, anton had stopped pretending this was just a harmless crush.
whatever the reason, looking away suddenly felt impossible.
you smiled first. you were tired but your smile was soft, and oh so fucking beautiful. anton's heart immediately betrayed him. he smiled back at you, his eyes basically pouring with love— love?! whatever!
neither of you said anything, you didn't need to. the silence felt louder than any conversation you'd ever had, and when your gaze dropped briefly to his lips before returning to his eyes, anton forgot what he'd been about to say entirely.
your shoulder remained pressed against his. somewhere in the distance, staff members were calling out instructions, you heard your own manager's voice faintly too. but ofcourse, neither of you paid attention. all anton could think about was how close you were & how easy it would be to close the distance completely.
and judging by the way your breath caught, you were thinking the exact same thing.
"anton." your voice was barely above a whisper, you couldn't help it.
"yeah?"
you opened your mouth.
paused.
then laughed softly.
"nothing."
he didn't believe you, not for a second, but he smiled anyway. for once, he didn't think he needed the answer
not yet, there would be time for that later. hopefully.
and as you continued looking at him like that, neither of you making any effort to look away, anton found himself wondering if maybe this could be something more, something real, anytime soon.
💌 viv's note: sorry for the cliffhanger mwah 🤍🧚♀️
Anton isn’t the kind of boyfriend who sweeps in loudly or makes big, dramatic declarations.
He’s the kind you almost don’t notice at first—until you realize he’s been taking care of you in a hundred quiet ways all along.
—
He talks softly, always.
Not because he’s unsure—but because he doesn’t like overwhelming you. When he says your name, it sounds gentle, like he’s handling something fragile.
“Hey… are you tired?” he’d ask, brushing his fingers lightly against your sleeve instead of grabbing your hand right away.
And when you nod, he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He just quietly adjusts—walking a little slower, guiding you somewhere quieter, maybe offering, “Do you want to sit for a bit?”
—
Anton notices everything.
Not in a loud, observant way—but in the way he remembers.
How you take your coffee. The exact tone your voice gets when you’re stressed. The fact that you get colder than you admit.
So when you say, “I’m fine,”
He’ll tilt his head slightly, studying you for a second… then gently hold out his hoodie anyway.
“Just in case,” he says.
—
He’s not big on constant texting.
But when he does text, it’s always thoughtful.
“Did you eat?”
“Don’t forget your umbrella today.”
“I saw something that reminded me of you.”
And sometimes, late at night:
“Are you still awake?”
If you say yes, he’ll stay. Not necessarily talking much—just being there, sending small messages, soft check-ins, like quiet company through a screen.
—
Physical affection with Anton is… careful at first.
He hesitates—not because he doesn’t want to, but because he wants to make sure you’re comfortable.
The first time he holds your hand, his fingers barely brush yours.
“Is this okay?” he asks softly.
But once he knows it is?
He doesn’t let go easily.
His grip is warm, steady, grounding. The kind that says I’m here without needing words.
—
He’s the type to rest his head lightly on yours when you’re sitting together.
Or gently fix your hair without pointing it out.
Or pull you a little closer when it’s crowded, his hand hovering at your back like he’s protecting you without making it obvious.
—
And when you’re upset…
Anton doesn’t overwhelm you with advice.
He sits next to you, quiet and patient.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
If you shake your head, he just nods.
“Okay… I’ll stay.”
And he does.
Maybe his hand finds yours. Maybe his thumb traces small, absent circles against your skin.
No pressure. No rushing.
Just… presence.
—
Sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he looks at you a little longer than usual.
Soft eyes. Small smile.
Like he still can’t believe you’re actually there.
If you catch him, he gets a little flustered.
“…Sorry,” he murmurs.
But when you ask why he’s apologizing, he just shakes his head.
“I just… like looking at you.”
—
Anton doesn’t love loudly.
He loves gently. Consistently. Quietly.
In the way he remembers.
In the way he stays.
In the way his voice softens just a little more when he talks to you.
⌗ SYNOPSIS - in which James is your stan acc oomf on twitter during pandemic days, and once you retrieved the account you suddenly remember him and start talking for a while again, not knowing he's a k-pop idol already.
৻ꪆ idol!james x non-idol! reader ৻ꪆ
⧽ warnings ┆ separate ficion from reality, kpop twt stan account moments , cringe self , fake texts n tweets, vulgar insults n jokes, ooc james, idk ?
⧽ note ┆ reader's online name as tzu (based from twice's tzuyu) , and james' online name as yu (from yufan) , you can't unconvince me James doesn't have a stan acc he's on his phone 24/7 , cleaning up the ideas filled in my notes app pls bear with me lol
synopsis: jake sim has spent years mastering the art of tuning people out: hate comments, criticism, comparisons. it works, mostly. until @vrstppnlocket. what starts as petty online fights with a random stan account over his f1 debut slowly turns into late-night conversations he tries not to get attached to. sure, he could mute her, block her, unfollow her… but he can’t seem to delete her.
contains: f1-driver!jake, obsessed!jake, ragebaiter!y/n, social media!au, kind of enemies to lovers, so much banter, slow burn, fluff, comedy. ft. enha's hyung line + katseye's sophia.
warnings: y/n starts a jake anti!!, swearing, inappropriate jokes, poor attempts at humor, i’m not an f1 expert, eventual use of faceclaims for reader, ignore dates and timestamps pls!
a/n: hi lovessss. jake’s spin off is FINALLYYYY here 🥹 tysm for your patience and waiting for me while i went a little mia... i hope this story feels worth the wait!! and YES ofc too close characters will still be around for little cameos BUTTTT pls wait until you meet the new characters… i'm so excited!! i SWEAR delete ya feels more chaotic and buzzyyyy so i really really hope you guys like it!! ALSO, i reused the “too close” taglist for this update, so pls lmk if you want to be added/removed. 💌💌
