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mygnolia · 5 months ago

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to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you.

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading.

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now.

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye.

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?”

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class.

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.”

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording.

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards.

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing.

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him.

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.”

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval.

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room.

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch.

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.”

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth.

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag.

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question.

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.”

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got.

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English. “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?”

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.”

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.”

And they’re silenced immediately.

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.”

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?”

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.”

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.”

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert.

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold.

He doesn't like it one bit.

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area.

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner.

A spark.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself.

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm.

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man.

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.”

That scared the shit out of him.

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape.

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him.

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal.

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him.

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it.

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars.

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can.

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving.

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it.

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero.

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same.

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you.

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you.

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby.

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits.

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project.

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises.

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago.

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head.

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.”

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch.

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line.

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.”

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response.

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.”

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.”

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.”

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.”

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.”

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.”

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.”

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.”

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right?

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM.

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time?

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes?

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again.

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark.

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor.

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy.

It’s attracted to the power plant.

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims.

Bam.

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed.

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back.

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon.

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity.

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle.

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop.

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory.

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest.

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up.

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds.

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time.

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him.

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this.

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop.

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein.

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about.

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text.

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it.

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy.

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him.

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?”

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.”

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?”

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend.

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom.

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.”

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.”

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up.

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?”

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision.

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task.

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves.

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more.

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?”

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down.

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.”

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?”

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning.

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination.

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less.

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish.

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end.

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break.

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask.

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?”

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading.

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐ talk to ____ regularly

☐ don't make it awkward

☐ be..cute?

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things.

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?”

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-”

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago.

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his.

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice.

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.”

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise.

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight.

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings.

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse.

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists.

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated.

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.”

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back.

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle.

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot.

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance.

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump.

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse.

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it.

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist.

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him.

You. He still needs to save you.

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him.

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended.

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement.

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists.

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action.

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop.

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait.

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go.

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind.

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion.

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.”

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.”

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.”

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.”

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.”

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?”

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you.

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?”

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.”

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?”

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.”

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit.

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do.

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened.

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?”

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.”

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay.

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?”

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting.

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man.

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.”

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear.

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs.

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest.

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain.

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head.

What. The. Fuck.

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities.

Until now.

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.”

His blood runs cold.

“You think this…why?”

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.”

Riki was going to strangle his best friend.

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too.

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation.

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?”

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms.

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly.

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?”

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?”

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki.

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are.

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.”

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate.

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart.

“Goodnight, Spiderman.”

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain.

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue.

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out.

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something.

Nothing.

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news.

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago.

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that.

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something.

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it.

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow.

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two.

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant.

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night.

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring.

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away.

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive.

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him.

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment.

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more.

And the solution hits him. Literally.

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge.

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him.

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan.

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies.

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt.

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down.

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard.

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm.

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them.

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead.

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!”

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks.

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?”

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge.

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more.

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop.

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.”

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions.

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds.

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.”

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body.

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right?

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach.

Do not say it’s true.

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass.

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you.

“Holy shit.”

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony.

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit.

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?”

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips.

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers.

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing.

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?”

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint.

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school.

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet.

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.”

You simply stare at him, surprised.

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.”

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel.

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?”

“Jake.”

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you.

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed.

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?”

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.”

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head.

“Not stupid. Keep going.”

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.”

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class.

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly.

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt.

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things.

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod.

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.”

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.”

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE.

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest.

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug.

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach.

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear.

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.”

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out.

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago).

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand.

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised.

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain.

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze.

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!”

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you.

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.”

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.”

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you.

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe.

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting.

“I thought girls liked this.”

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose.

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?”

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.”

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him.

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man.

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration.

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.”

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

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aphrvdisiac · 6 months ago

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OFF TO THE RACES.

ellie williams, abby anderson x fem! reader.

part one of to lie and love like you do.

SUMMARY | you are in a poly relationship with new york’s elite women, ellie williams and abby anderson, but living in the world of power, money, and lust possesses each one of you as the dynamic amongst you three becomes more volatile and violent.

WARNINGS | adult language. graphic violence. polyamorous relationship. abby calls reader “bunny,” ellie calls reader, “little lamb.” mentions of alcohol consumption and drug usage. possessive and obsessive behaviors. dark content: graphic details of t*rture and m*rder, men being pigs, controlling behavior. adult content: sub!reader x doms!ellabs, doing it in a confessional booth, god kink, fingering, degradation, overstimulation, edging, ball gag, strap-ons, face smacking, mommy and daddy kink, knife play w/ branding, double penetration.

NOTES | so brief explanation: this is my fic, off to the races. it used to be on my original, old account that fell under the user “angvlita” but unfortunately i deactivated that account so the fic no longer exists. anyways, all rights are reserved to me for this, and i do not want it published anywhere else. with that being said, please take into caution all the tags and warnings because this isn’t meant to be taken lightly whatsoever. ellie and abby are mean and cruel in here. thank you, and enjoy.

If Los Angeles was the city of Angels, then New York was home for all Hellbound.

You grew up in such a glistening city, where people’s facades weren’t as hidden, illicit affairs took place, and a fifteen year old was trying cocaine for the first time. It held beauty just like Lucifer, having greater cruelty and an ominous essence lingering beneath its soul.

You wish you didn’t get caught up in a reckless lifestyle, that you didn’t become so corrupted that you were a girlfriend to your two best friends.

Ellie Williams, daughter to architect and businessman Joel Miller, and Abby Anderson, daughter to a famous renowned surgeon Jerry Anderson. The two had great power, control, and wealth – they fucking lived off of it. They were cruel and vicious to everyone.

Ellie was a venomous scorpion, Abby personified as such a nefarious viper. The two together were threatening, and it all surprised you when they wanted you in their circle in the early start of Junior Year, easily befriending you.

You remembered it clear as day.

You were sitting at a table, reading Jane Eyre. It was your free period, and you had not much to do, finished with any assignments.

The silence you enjoyed was interrupted when two figures sat themselves down at the table, gaining your attention as you peered up at the book, and noticed elite scholars Ellie Williams, and Abby Anderson.

They were grinning at you, eyeing you like a predator did with their prey, a cascade of goosebumps running over your skin.

“Can I help you?” You asked, bookmarking your spot before closing the book, and setting it down.

You knew it came off rude and too sharp, but their appearance made you uncomfortable, and weirded out.

“We’ve been keepin’ an eye on you,” Ellie said, and your heart sank, not knowing exactly what that mean. “We aren’t here to ruin your life, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you chuckled nervously, fidgeting with your Cartier bracelet. “You have quite the reputation.”

“So you know us?” Abby asked, and you shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

“We want to invite you out,” Ellie added, and your brows knitted together, utterly confused. How could you not be? It was a random invitation, and you didn’t have any prior interactions with them.

You just had Fine Arts Honors with Ellie, and English Literature with Abby — though, you never made any conversations with them, and you didn’t see the need to.

“Why? This is new, no?” You questioned, eyeing them back and forth in the moment the duo looked at one another, words kindling behind their eyes.

“Somethin’ about you is sweet… special,” Abby confessed, and a smile threatened to curl onto your lips. “You interest us.”

“Marrona, at 8PM,” Ellie stated, getting up with the blonde by her side. “Just come by, and if you still don’t like us, you’re free to go.”

“You’re trusting a stranger? Interesting,” you lightly joked, smiling to yourself. “The world must be ending, then.”

They smiled with you, a rare expression anyone could come across.

It was an unforgettable night that you thought of for a week before either of you approached each other again.

Many of your friends told you to not fall for it, that you’d be a laughing stock, and would only be ruined. You didn’t know how ruined you would become, and you simply wanted to know what it would be like to sit in their company.

You were sure it was because of your status — your mother was an heiress, and your father was a CEO of an advanced technology business. You were humble about your life, yet knew you had a higher position in money and glory than them. You were sure they wouldn’t just let anyone in, that they were more intelligent to let a random classmate of theirs be brought into their social circle.

The deeper you fell into their rabbit hole, you had become tainted, and cruel as them. You were their rotten apple, something they possessed and prized so admirably as you were theirs only. Before the relationship was even thought of, you weren’t allowed to talk to anyone else besides them, leaving you to drop all your closest friends, and submit only to the two girls.

Yet, they took care of you like no one else did — expensive gifts, abrupt trips to Europe, fancy dinners, and the sex they gave you.

God, the fucking sex.

It was them at the same time, or one coming to your place to claim you entirely. You didn’t mind it, no, you had become so immune to being theirs, you would please them.

You don’t exactly remember how the polyamory relationship came to be; you were getting closer with Abby, Ellie didn’t like it, and the two had come to the idea of sharing you, right before twelfth grade. You weren’t opposed to it, but hated the twisted repercussions that tied into it.

During all of Senior Year, you weren’t allowed to go out without them by your side, or at least one of your bodyguards. You couldn’t get drunk, only at home, and that’s it; they had this monologue about how dangerous the world is, and how they wouldn’t be able to forgive themselves if something happened to you.

You had no privacy, they always had a guy watching you from a distance if you went out with family, and tracked your location. Your only friends were whoever else was in their group, which wasn’t much whatsoever, so you were practically without anything.

When you all graduated, and you were planning to attend Columbia, you hoped some leniency would be kicked in from their part, but no — the two only got more dominant about everything, to the point they refused to let you share a dorm room with a girl.

“Oh my fucking god, I’m not going to fuck her!” You yelled. “You’re being dramatic; it is better for me to live on campus so I don’t deal with traffic every morning.”

“What if she tries something?” Ellie asked, sitting down on her couch with a glass of bourbon in her hand. “You know we are just trying to look out for you.”

“No, you’re being insane,” you stated, and she scoffed, eyeing Abby. “Both of you have really got to stop this shit. I need to make a career for myself, be my own person without your crazy bullshit jeopardizing it all.”

Abby got up, now towering over you as she grinned. “Such a brat you are,” she mocked, and you shivered, glaring at her. “After all this time, we hoped you would start being appreciative.”

“I… I’m more than grateful for the both of you,” you assured softly, frowning. “But please, I'd rather be in a dorm room than some penthouse where you’re being insufferable.”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie asked, hastily standing up, and before you could speak, she grabbed your jaw. “Insufferable, huh?”

You whimpered, the grasp tightening, and worried she might crack a bone. “No… no,” you whispered, and the pair mockingly cooed at your panic.

Ellie shoved you into Abby’s arms. “Deal with her, I’m in a good mood today.”

Abby held onto your wrist, seating herself down, and bent you over her lap. “Gotta keep training you, ‘specially after all this time,” she mumbled, flipping up your skirt. “Starting to think we should just replace your ball with some soap, maybe raise up the punishments.”

“No, no,” you pleaded, peeking up at her. “I didn’t mean to say—”

“Don’t fuckin’ stare at me,” Abby spat, and you whined, looking away as you could feel her hands massage your ass. “You’re lucky it’s me being lenient, not her.”

Abby wasn’t wrong there — Ellie was more harsh with her punishment, would leave you in a puddle of tears, and it would be Abby that had to reel her back into reality. You recalled the moment when Ellie had you bent over the edge of the kitchen table, hitting your ass while she kept her thick rings on, and you were in tears by the end.

You didn’t talk to her for at least two weeks, but she repeatedly apologized, and was no longer able to strike you with no more than seven slaps, and if she did, Abby had to put her in check.

You never knew why you liked being punished like this, like a ragdoll of some sort, or why you let consequences happen to you. You were human, but something about these two keeping you in check was pleasuring, and comforting in a way.

The first hit made you squeal, kicking your feet in reaction. “Fuck!”

“Count, bunny,” she said, the nickname made your stomach turn. “I know you can do it.”

“One…” you shuddered, another strike coming after it. “Fuck— two!”

“Only doing five today, it’s okay,” she assured, kissing the back of your neck, and your ass was met with the third strike.

“Three!”

Another one.

“Four!”

And the last one.

“Five,” you moaned, your ass burning. “I fucking hated that.”

“Me too, bun,” Abby said, picking you up, and let you sit on her lap. “Let me look at my girl.”

She took your face into her hands, fingers brushing past your ears, and grinned. “There’s my bunny, are you okay?” She wondered sincerely, a frown tugged on her lips.

“‘M fine,” you muttered, resting your head on her shoulder as she held you. “Is Ellie mad at me?”

“You know how she is,” she reminded, and you huffed, nodding. “We love you, more than you’ll ever know. We wouldn’t be able to live if someone hurt you, or something horrible happened.”

“I know, didn’t mean to be rude,” you mumbled, and she sighed, kissing the side of your head. “I just feel like both your lives should be more than just me.”

“Oh, baby,” she sighed, bringing your head back up, and gazed at you with immense endearment, you could faint from it. “You are our life. Our religion, our air, everything we want and need.”

You grinned. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Now, let’s go see Ellie, yeah?” Abby suggested, and you agreed, trailing in front of her as you walked to Ellie's bedroom in her penthouse.

“Ellie,” you sang out, pouting. “Are you still mad?” You opened the bedroom door, finding her sitting on her desk chair with an electric guitar in her hands.

Ellie looked up at you the second you were in her presence, and she sighed, sitting the instrument aside of her. “Hey, little one,” she greeted, opening her arms for you. You rushed to her, perching yourself on her lap, and wrapped your arms around her neck.

“Sorry for being rude,” you mumbled into the crook of her neck. “I love you and Abby both.”

“Sweetheart, I know,” she rested her hand on the back of your head, her thumb caressing it. “We know what’s best for you, that’s why we take care of you unlike anyone else.”

Ellie wasn’t wrong there, and that saddened you. Your parents had always be mentally and emotionally distant; they were there physically, but always focused on their own issues. It was either your mother was caught up in her pill addiction, or your father having a new mistress.

There never really was time for you — you raised yourself for as long as you could remember.

Many would say you had no reason to hate your life when you have this trust fund, nepotism lifestyle, but you would trade all of that just for parental affection and care. Yet, that never came, and the only people who tended to your needs were Ellie and Abby.

They came into your life when you needed them the most.

“Our parents want a gathering tonight,” Abby walked into the room, clearly irritated. “First stop is church.”

“Church?” Ellie laughed. “Oh baby, it’s your parents that want that.”

You never understood why your parents went to church. They may have grown up religious, but the things you witnessed them doing led them to earning a one way ticket to Hell.

“We could have our fun,” Abby assured, grinning. “Isn’t being selfish and ungrateful a sin?”

Ellie picked your head up off her shoulder, forcing you to look at her. “Yeah… it is,” she smirked at your protesting whines, and patted your bottom. “Get home, and get changed.”

You walked inside the cathedral by your parents side, searching around for your girls. “Ah, there’s Jerry!” Your father pointed out, taking you and your mother to Abby’s dad. “Jerry!”

Jerry turned around, grinning at him, both hugging one another. You hopped to Abby’s side, smiling up at her. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey, baby,” she mumbled, gently pinching your arm. “Ellie is in the confessional booth.”

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

“You sinned,” Abby reminded, and you swallowed thickly as she leaned into your ear. “And you need to repent.”

Your parents were caught in conversation with Jerry, and you sighed heavily, rolling your eyes. You knew they wouldn’t pay much mind if you were gone for a bit.

“Don’t fuckin’ roll your eyes,” she spat, tightly seizing your wrists, and tugged you away with her. To your unfortunate luck, the confessional booth had its own room in the cathedral, and gradually spacious, giving you more than enough privacy.

“Let the fuck go of my wrist!” You shouted, and she halted her footsteps, turning around. “I can follow, ya’know? I’m not dumb.”

Abby ignored you, suddenly tossing you over her shoulder as you screeched, furiously kicking your feet. “Ellie’s going to love hearing this,” she taunted, and you zipped your mouth, giving up all protest.

Abby twisted open up the door to the room, putting you down on your feet, and slammed the door shut.

Ellie was leaning against the wall, joint in her mouth, and was wearing a black suit, a bralette underneath her fine blazer. “There’s our girl,” she beamed, yet her bright expression toned down when she took notice of Abby's unsatisfied attitude. “What did she do?”

“Rolled her eyes, being a brat,” Abby said, and you looked down in shame, not knowing why you kept digging a hole for yourself. “Don’t know why she keeps doing this. Maybe we’ve been too nice.”

Ellie hummed, burning her joint out on the windowsill before leading herself into the stall, her legs spreading as she sat down. “We’ll take our turns. Kneel before God.”

You only stood still, gazing up at her.

Abby’s hand curled around the back of your neck, getting a whine out of you. “The fuck is your problem today? Want to be ignored instead?” She wondered, and you shook your head. “It sure seems like that, bunny.”

“Bring her over here,” Ellie beckoned, and Abby guided you over to the auburn-haired girl, forcing you down to your knees. “Wearin’ such a pretty dress today. All for us, hm?”

You looked at her, hands resting on your thighs as you nodded. “Course I did. Wanted to be pretty for you both.”

“Hmm. Roll up your dress,” Ellie said, and you froze, not moving. She inched closer to your face, tilting her head. “Something wrong, honey?”

“No, ‘course not,” you muttered, fingers fiddling with the ending hem of your babydoll dress.

“Then listen,” Abby added in, and your breath shuddered as you bunched the skirt to your waist, exposing your bare cunt. “Won’t you look at that? She thought she was gonna get something.”

“Did you think that?” Ellie asked, and you hesitantly nodded, her cruel laugh ringing in your ears. “After how you’ve been acting all day? Silly girl.”

“Where’s your rosary?” Abby wondered, and you opened up your purse, scrunching it up in your palm. “Not even a pure girl anymore, just a depraved whore for us.”

Ellie grabbed the jewelry piece, wrapping it in between her fingers as the end dangled in your face. “Abby, next to me,” she ordered, and Abby took off her leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor, stepping in the stall.

You stayed kneeled, trying to put water to the fire you sparked.

The tip of Ellie’s combat boot hit under your chin, raising your eyes to hers. “Get over to her,” she cocked her head to the side, and you rushed up and over to the blonde haired woman, who grinned at you.

Abby pushed you down onto her lap, your back pressing up against her chest as Ellie pushed open the sliding barrier, mindlessly playing with your rosary. “Why are you here today?” She began, yet Abby shoved your legs open, one hand on your throat, and the other snaked down in between your thighs.

“F—Forgive me,” you stuttered, shivering to Abby's fingers glazing over your needy cunt, “for I have sinned.”

“Go on,” Ellie agreed, and Abby slowly pushed one finger into you. “What troubles you?”

Your head fell back onto Abby’s shoulder, squeezing harder on your throat as a warning. “Fuck… I—I’ve been selfish, sir,” you continued, whining to her teasing pace. “Cruel and ruthless to those who love me.”

“And why is that?” Ellie wondered, paying no mind to you or your noises. “Do they deserve it, little lamb?”

Abby put in a second finger, the pace now running a bit higher, but made sure to not give you entire satisfaction. “Do they deserve it, bunny?” She whispered in your ear, her thumb pressing on your bud. “Tell her now.”

“No, God no,” you whimpered, placing a hand over Abby’s wrist. “I’m just… just a brat— holy fuck, fuck me.”

“Using vulgar language in front of your God, little lamb?” Ellie teased, knowing what she was getting at.

She was your God — both of them were. They were your religion, devoting every piece of you to them, would do anything to have their forgiveness and love for eternity.

“I’m sorry, God,” you moaned, Abby’s fingers pounding into you as you were beginning to fall apart at the seams, grabbing onto her wrist. “Fuck— Forgive me, God. I need your forgiveness.”

“You have to earn it,” Ellie stated, and Abby breathily chuckled, her breath fanning against your skin.

“Want to be good for your Gods?” Abby asked, and you nodded, your face falling into the crook of her neck. “Gonna do anything just for us to fuck you, huh? ‘Course you are, baby. You’re filthy— look what we’ve done to you.”

A warm sensation ran in your stomach, down to your thighs as your body jolted on her lap. “Please, God,” you pleaded, tears at your waterline. “I want you, God. I’ll never sin again.”

Ellie hummed, looking at Abby. “What do you think?” She asked. “Does the whore deserve to be forgiven?”

“Might have to work a little harder,” Abby said, and you were lost in your head, your climax burning in your abdomen. “She’s going to break another commandment.”

“No, no,” you breathed, shaking your head. “I won’t do it unless God tells me to.”

“Is that right?” Abby cooed, and her free hand combed through your hair, grabbing it. Her fingers slipped out of you, tossing you down onto your knees again with a harsh thud, a soft weep eliciting from you.

Ellie stepped out of her side of the booth, moving to yours, and you heard the rustling of her and Abby’s pants, keeping your head down. A nude Ellie brushed past you, sitting down onto Abby’s lap, both of their seeping cunts shown to your eyes.

“Please us, little lamb,” Ellie said, and you slightly moved yourself closer, your mouth latching on Abby’s cunt, hearing a soft moan leave her. You slid two fingers into Ellie’s, who cursed under her breath, and the pair looked down at you as you stared right back at them, desperation shining in your eyes.

“Doing s’good, baby,” Abby gently praised, her breath jagged, and looped around Ellie’s waist to keep her in place. “Keep fuckin’ going like that.”

Your mouth switched between the two, lapping up their juices as they made out with one another, sweetly moaning into each other’s mouth. All you could do was admire them, kneeling obediently while you drowned your mouth in their juices, needing more than just this.

Ellie put her hand on top of your head, the end of your rosary dangling in between your eyes, and she rutted her cunt against your mouth, keeping it latched. You stuffed Abby with three fingers, enough to fulfill her, roughly thrusting them into her.

The rosary continued to stay in your vision, almost like a mocking coming from Ellie and God; that once a pure angel fell into the hands of the corrupted, and became just what and who they are.

But you loved it, you loved that they curated you into this way. All you wanted to do was please them, see how sensitive they could turn out to be.

You spent the remainder of mass baptizing yourself in between their thighs, drunk on the taste of their sweet pussies.

You had spent the next day at home, making sure you had things planned out for when you moved out for Columbia. Abby and Ellie had convinced you to live in a penthouse that was about a block away from the school, and you had agreed on the fact that it was better to be with people you knew than a stranger as they knew it made you easily uncomfortable.

Your parents had left randomly for vacation, staying at their place in Milan, leaving you alone with your cat. You didn’t mind the loneliness, it was something you well adjusted to as you got older, and you only ached for attention when it came to your girls, but they had their responsibilities that you couldn’t interfere with.

You had finished packing up your box of books, setting it in the corner of your bedroom. Your attention turned to the sound of your phone going off, the soft ringtone coming through. You grabbed your phone, grinning at the contact name of “Jesse.”

“Well if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker,” you teased. “What’s up?”

Jesse James and his girlfriend, Dina Woodward, were the only people Ellie and Abby trusted you with; which said plenty because they would kill anyone who they didn’t know, and tried to talk to you. He was good, despite the fact he came from a shit father, constantly got in trouble with the law, and blew money on anything. Dina was the only one who could put him in check, and you had grown close to her over the time of knowing him.

“I fuckin’ bought a club,” Jesse started off, and you scoffed in disbelief. “Turned that shit into a burlesque. She’s a beau, you have to come out and check it out.”

“Well, I can’t right now,” you denied, and he groaned. “I’m trying to make sure I have everything together before I leave for college.”

“Cry me a river, come on!” He begged, and you breathily laughed. “You are always so attached to Ellie and Abs, make time for me.”

“Is your girlfriend with you, at least?” You wondered, and he hummed in response. You looked at the time on your clock, reading “9:03PM”, and you sighed. “I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t go anywhere.”

True to your word, you arrived at Jesse’s enriching club. You got out of the black cab, and stared at the sign that gleamed in pink neon “Carissima.”

You hummed softly to yourself, approaching the security guard at the front. “Friend of Jesse James,” you said, and he nodded, easily recognizing you. He opened up the door for you, thanking him, and moved inside, hearing the familiar melody of “I Put A Spell On You” by Nina Simone tune through the venue.

It didn’t take much to find Jesse, his arm wrapped around Dina’s shoulder as the two sat on a lounge chair in front of performers, their soft laughter knitting between the music. You walked up to the side of the furniture, their eyes averting to you.

“You made it!” Dina exclaimed, jumping up, and pulling you into a hug. “I’ve missed you. Feels like forever.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said, separating the hug, and gave a hast squeeze to Jesse before sitting on the side of Dina. “So, what made you buy this?”

“Good investment,” Jesse said, and you awed, chuckling. “My dad doesn’t agree, but it’s beautiful. These performers… mind blowing, a fascination to everyone in this room.”

“You tell Ellie and Abby?” You wondered as Dina handed you a cigarette, lighting it up for you. “They would love this, think you are a genius.”

“I thought you would bring them. Ya’know, since you’re attached to them,” he teased, and Dina smacked his arm, glaring at him. “Bad joke, fuck! But where are they?”

“Don’t know, I haven’t talked to them all day,” you answered, puffing out a blow. “But they got their shit to worry about, don’t like being in the way.”

“You’ve been their world since you met them,” Dina said, taking the stick from you. “However, it is scary how overprotective they are.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Jesse laughed. “Those two have always been frightening—”

“Yeah, but their care for her is… different,” she stated, and gazed back at you. “Known them since we were kids, and I can say they would kill for you.”

“So dramatic,” you joked. “They’re the closest people I have in life. They take care of me, know what’s good for me and I don’t know— I’ve never really had that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled, handing you back the cigarette. “I just know they’re fucking you good.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go get a drink!” You beamed, inhaling the tobacco, and got up. “You need anything?”

They shook their heads, and you hurried to the bar, continuing to burn out the cancerous stick in a spare ashtray. You smiled at the bartender as she headed over to you.

“What can I get you, love?” She asked.

“Just a cosmo, please,” you said, and she hummed, turning to the drinks. You waited patiently, fingers tapping on the gradient countertop in thought.

A shoulder softly brushed past you, but you ignored the person, until they cleared their throat. “All alone here?”

You shivered to the voice of a man.

“With some friends,” you dryly answered, eyes focused on the bartender who had her back turned from you.

“That’s a shame. Woulda invite you to hang with me,” he said, his voice thick and heavy. “You always still can.”

“No thank you,” you denied, shaking your head, and prayed for your drink to come quicker, only for the bartender to head into the stock room for a moment.

Oh, you felt sick.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Dina and Jesse lost in their conversation, completely oblivious to you.

Your phone was in your purse, and you were scared to even fiddle with it.

“I don’t bite, honey,” he assured, and your heart leaped into your throat as his hand touched your bicep. “Come on. A pretty thing like you should be having fun.”

“Please let go of me,” you said, yet harsh enough to come off stern. “I don’t like your hand on me, so get the fuck off.”

“Now don’t be a bitch,” he spat.

You finally looked at him, your body wanting to collapse on you. He was taller than you, about six foot three or so. Broad and muscular, completely fit. His eyes were dark, had a goatee on his face.

You thought about throwing up all over him just to get this over with.

You hoped people sitting around would notice, yet no one did, caught up in their own worlds. You yanked your arm back, and scoffed. “You don’t got the right to touch me, you fuck.”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” he threatened. “You come here in that little black dress, and expect nobody to fuck you?”

The bartender came back, and was the only one to notice this unsettling tension. “Hey, honey!” She called out, putting your order on the countertop. “Had to head into the back to grab more cranberry juice, I’m sorry.”

She kept her eyes locked on the man, a pair of scissors in her hand. “Can you hold onto my order for a second? I need to use the ladies room,” you said, and she nodded, making sure to keep the man secure in her radius.

You hurried into the bathroom, your shaky hands taking out your phone. Teardrops collected on the screen as you hit Abby’s contact, the first name on your recent call list.

It took only two rings until she answered. “Bunny?”

“Abby… abby,” you breathily whispered, sniffling. “Is Ellie with you?”

“Yeah, baby. We just got done with some things,” she said, and you sighed in relief. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m at this club, Jesse’s club,” you began, sucking in a sharp breath. “And went to the bar to get a drink… this man came up to me, wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“What?” Abby’s tone sharpened. “Did he hurt you? Where the fuck is Jesse? Or Dina?”

“He just grabbed my arm. Jesse and Dina were just busy with each other, I was too far away for them to notice anything,” you stated clearly, wiping away your hot tears. “I don’t know if he’s still in here, but the bartender is keeping a close eye on him, and I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“Stay in the bathroom, we’re coming right now,” she assured, and you hung up the call, sitting yourself on the porcelain seat, trying to compile all your thoughts and emotions.

As Abby brought the phone down to her lap, Ellie glanced at her. “What happened?”

“Someone fuckin’ weirdo touched her,” Abby exsperated, and static rang in Ellie’s ears, scoffing in disbelief. “Jesse opened up his own club, she was there, and went alone to get a drink.”

Ellie texted Jesse for the address, and Abby searched around the backseat compartment. “I don’t know if the gun is still in here,” Ellie said, and the blonde groaned in frustration. “We can’t go in there with one.”

“The one time you don’t bring your weapon,” Abby sighed.

“Got the address,” Ellie mumbled, opening up her phone. “Charles! Hit 7th avenue.”

“The fuck are we gonna do with this dude?” Abby asked, and Ellie grinned. “Talk to me, baby.”

“We fuckin’ kill him,” Ellie stated.

You passed time by playing games on your phone, the stress of it being enough to forget the short horror experience you just encountered. The shout of your name in the bathroom caught your attention, killing your high score in the process.

“Baby, where are you?” Ellie called out, and you rushed out of the stall, getting her attention. “Oh, there’s my girl.”

She hastily brought you into her arms, letting you cry into her shoulder as she held you, cupping the back of your head. “My brave girl, hm? So proud of you,” she praised, kissing your temple. “Abby and I are gonna take care of everything.”

You nodded, bringing your head back, and she smiled softly at you. “Do you have any party favors?” You wondered, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Please, just wanna wash off tonight.”

“Honey, you are not taking coke,” she said, and you frowned. “I know you are upset, but your body isn’t used to it, and you wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes I do! Remember when I did it off your ass on our ski trip in Aspen?” You recalled, and she kept denying you. “Please! Just this once. I’ll have Dina make sure I don’t do more than three lines.”

“Dina couldn’t even keep an eye on you right now!” She shouted, and you flinched, body tensing. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just— You need to be careful.”

“Just three lines,” you repeated.

Ellie reached into her trouser’s pockets, fiddling with the bag, and handed it to you. “Go have fun, baby,” she said, and you kissed her cheek, thanking her before sprinting back out to Jesse and Dina.

The couple bounced up from their seats at your appearance, clear worry plastered on their faces. “Fuck, we’re so sorry,” Dina said, gently grabbing your wrists. “We were so caught up—“

“It’s fine,” you smiled, sitting down on the lounge seat, and popped open the bag of cocaine.

“Fuck, you’re doing lines? Haven’t seen you do that shit since the Debutante Ball,” she said, and you poured some of the white powder onto the table in front of you.

“Ellie and Abby don’t know about that,” you told her, and her eyes widened, looking at her boyfriend who only shrugged at her. “They would kill me if they knew the amount of drugs I’ve done behind their back.”

“You’ve only done cocaine, no?” Jesse questioned, and you only glanced at him over your shoulder, giggling. You took a random card out of your wallet, dividing the powder into neat lines, a dumb smile on your face.

“Jesse, can you go get my cosmo, please?” You asked, sweetness laced in your tone. “I deserve some of that with this shit.” He sighed, nodding, and getting up from his spot.

There were seven lines made, and you wiped off the collected powder from the edge of the card, sniffing it up your left nostril. You exhaled sharply, snickering, and traded the card in for a dollar bill. “You want some of this?” You offered, turning around to look at Dina, and she denied the offer, eyes focused on you.

You hummed, tightly rolling up the bill. “More for me, then.” You brought the paper up to your nose, aligning it with the first line, and took a heavy inhale, a strong burn hitting your nose. You sniffled, bringing your head up and leaned it back, shakily laughing.

“Easy there, babe,” Dina put a hand on your back, rubbing it. Jesse came back on time with your drink, handing it to you, and noticed the dollar bill next to the second line.

“Already started?” He teased, and you took a sip of the cocktail, eyeing to the drug. “I’m all good, treat yourself with that stuff.”

With you doing lines and being utterly distracted inside of the club, Abby and Ellie were on the top floor of the building, inside a storage room with a beaten man on the ground.

Abby took another kick to his gut, Ellie sitting in a chair with a cigarette in her mouth. “You like touchin’ females you don’t know!” Abby yelled, and he sobbed, restrained by cable ties, his right eyes kicked in. “Fuckin’ touching her like that, you aren’t getting away with this shit.”

Ellie took the gun out from the back of her trousers, lucky enough to find the weapon in the glove compartment by the driver. She flashed the object to the man’s eyes, a vile grin playing on her lips as she stared at him.

She got up, and stalked towards his limp body, standing by Abby’s side. “What’s your name, man?” Ellie asked, with her partner taking a hast note to her facade. “Got any kids or anything?”

“My name is Brandon,” he breathed, and Ellie nodded, squatting down to match eye level with him, letting the gun dangle in her hands. “Shit, dude, listen— I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think she was taken.”

“What makes you say that?” Abby questioned.

“A girl like that… wants attention,” he said, and the girls looked at one another before glancing back over to Brandon. “Can even tell she’s got lingerie under that shit. She’s a fuckin’ tease, a whore.”

Ellie hummed, reloading the glock in her hand, and chuckled. “I think I’m done with my cigarette now,” she mumbled, jokingly frowning as she played with the stick in between her fingers. “Too bad I don’t have an ashtray on me.”

Abby took out a switchblade, exchanging it for the gun. “Tell me when you need me to do it,” she said, and the auburn haired girl seized the man’s jaw, squeezing open his mouth as a wave of protests elicited from his throat.

Ellie pushed the bud to his tongue, and cruelly laughed at the garging scream that came out of him. “Keep fuckin’ talking shit!” She shouted, flicking open her switchblade, and held it to his throat. “Swallow that cigarette, wanna see if you still want to run your mouth!”

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Abby chimed in, taking off her leather jacket. “You’re lucky we don’t kill you right now.”

Ellie put her hand over the man’s mouth, refusing to let him spit out her cigarette, only giving him the option to swallow it for good. She smiled, pleased with the simple act, and took her hand back. “Got anymore shit to say?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side.

Brandon sniffled, jagged sobs intertwined with his heavy breathing. “You’re both fucking insane,” he began, trying to gather oxygen into him. “She’s going to leave you. You’re going to drive her away with this shit.”

“We’d like to see her try,” Abby said, and Ellie stood up, putting herself aside to let her do as she pleased. She sat back down, opening up her phone to text Jesse.

E: How is she?

J: Two Cosmos in. Had seven lines. Get down here soon.

E: Don’t let her strip her clothes off. We don’t need a sequel to Barcelona.

J: Me and Dina can’t handle her, only you can. She won’t shut the fuck up about you.

E: Don’t let us down again. P.S., may need a mop in here soon.

She tucked her phone away, and admired Abby damaging the man. She was ruthless, yet composing herself enough not to kill him — just yet. His face had molded into a pulp, unrecognizable to anyone as his blood painted on Abby’s hands, his weak pleas being ignored by the pair.

Abby and Ellie got high off of this, hurting or killing anyone who made you uncomfortable. They had been getting away with it for so long, and you had been gullible to it, never blinking an eye to their unknown actions.

They would do this over and over again, even if something was your fault within it, they dealt with you in their own way — but no one was ever to lay a hand on you, and you knew that too.

Abby snagged his wallet out of his pocket, opening it up. “Brandon James,” she announced, pulling out his cash, and putting it in her pockets. “Gonna use this to buy her something pretty and nice.”

“Where does he live?” Ellie asked.

“Won’t you look at that!” Abby said, pressing her boot to his face. “He’s a rich brat. Lives in that building next to yours, Els.”

Ellie chuckled. “Money probably got him out of his shit. Isn’t that right, Brandon James?”

“Please,” is all he could manage to say, dizzy and lightheaded.

Ellie returned over to him, and stood over him before lowering herself. “This may hurt,” she said, signaling for Abby’s help, who obliged by opening the man’s mouth. Ellie grinned, tugging at the tip of his tongue, and began to sever it with her switchblade.

He screamed, thrashing around, but was overpowered by the two women, entirely useless to their strength. “This isn’t even the worst part,” Ellie muttered, grunting as she went on to cut off his tongue. “You made her cry, ya’know? Poor baby was so scared, and didn't know what to do.”

His tongue ripped out, being put to the side of his head. She got up, staring at the blood of her hand, and could only curl her hand into a tight fist.

He fuckin’ frightened her, she thought to herself. He deserves to die.

He was already facing death in a horrid, slow manner, and the last thing he would see was these two, towering over him; utterly indulged by his death, and letting it fuel their ego.

“Kill him. Jesse wants us back,” Ellie ordered, and Abby aimed the gun at his face, her finger carelessly pressing down on the trigger. His face blew, and they both hummed, taking in the view. “Good job. Already called the crew to come get him.”

Stuck yet hast of cleaning themselves up, alcohol and drugs overrode your brain, consuming you. You were sitting on the edge of the couch, staring at the dancers on the stage who moved with elegance, and passion. Each one of them were beautiful, confident in their own way that made your heart beat.

“Wish I was as good as them,” you said, sipping on Jesse’s cup of scotch. “I can fuckin’ dance, but not like that.”

“They’re giving a simple show,” Dina noted, and you blew a raspberry, glaring at her.

“They’re doing much more than that,” you retorted, and inhaled one last bump, coughing. “I… I want to go up there.”

“You’re not,” Jesse denied, and you pouted. “Ellie and Abby would murder you, and then me. We don’t want Barcelona to happen.”

“Oh my gosh! That trip was so fun!” You recalled, warmly smiling at the memory. “Wait, what happened?”

“You drank too much, got lost in the crowd dancing with too many people,” Dina said, and you zoned out, attempting to have any recollection. “Then, you bought everyone shots, danced on top of the bar, and flashed your ass to them.”

“Okay, that’s not bad,” you giggled, shrugging. “I’m going up there!”

“Do you have a death wish?” Dina wondered, and grabbed your wrist, preventing you from standing up. “Your girlfriends are going to kill you if you do some sort of strip tease up there.”

“They’ll get over it,” you said, freeing your wrist from her hold. “They’re not here, anyways, and they won’t do shit about it.”

Jesse and Dina sighed, giving up all attempts and let you run off onto the stage. The burlesque dancers beamed at your presence, letting you stand in the middle as you were too mind numbed to understand what you were doing, just knowing you wanted to have fun.

The song and crowd were an echo, intoxication burning into your body, controlling each thing you did. You sheepishly grinned, your hand reaching to the side of your dress, and pulled down the zipper.

“No, no!” Dina shouted, and Jesse mumbled multiple curse words, sipping down the last of his drink. “Oh, we are so dead.”

Abby and Ellie appeared right next to them, at the exact time you were shimming off your dress, and were exposed in your garter belt, stockings, and undergarments. “What the fuck did we say!” Abby shouted, and the couple sighed, watching in horror with the two girls while you were oblivious to them.

People in the club cheered for you, a few getting their wallets out. You laughed, your vision a blur as you showed off your body, letting your hands run all over your body.

Your girlfriends watched attentively, millions of thoughts piling on top of each other, thinking of how to get off the stage, and back home. They weren’t going to punish you while you were clearly out of your mind, but that gave them enough time to think of how to handle you.

They just fucking murdered someone for you, and your flashing your body to strangers. You were more than ungrateful at this moment.

The dancers on stage encouraged you to do what you wanted, cheering you though they knew you were not intact with reality. “Should I take off my bra?” You questioned, and the people in front yelled in agreement, earning a small laugh out of you. “Yeah? Flash my tits for New York?”

“What the fuck is she saying?” Jesse asked. “Go get your girl before she turns this into a riot house.”

Abby and Ellie both rushed to you, having to fight through a crowd just to reach the steps to the stage. Your hands fidgeted with the hooks of your bra, and before you could strip it off, they got to you on time. “Oh, it’s my girls!” You slurred, hiccuping as you laughed, and blushed in shame. “How long have you been here?”

Ellie took off her blazer, tossing it over you as Abby picked up your dress from the ground. The crowd booed and groaned at your escort as you only waved at them, blowing a kiss. “Bye Dina and Jess! Love you both so much!” You yelled, and squealed from being abruptly thrown over Abby’s shoulder. “Ow, my stomach!”

The limo was parked outside, and the chauffeur opened up the door, Abby throwing you onto the seat but made sure you didn’t bump your head. Ellie climbed in right behind her, the door shutting.

“Hiii,” you slurred, continuing to giggle. “You like my outfit?”

“Who gave you coke?” Abby asked.

“Els!” You said.

“Ellie, we talked about this!” Abby protested, and the auburn shrugged. “She can’t do that shit unattended.”

“I’ve done it so many times without you both,” you confessed, and their eyes snapped at you. “You made me this way — fucking corrupted, and shit. I am your blessing and nightmare.”

“You’re drunk,” Ellie sighed. “You need to rest when we get home.”

“Why, daddy?” You asked, and Ellie reddened at the nickname. “I know you both want to hurt me. I was bad tonight, disrespecting you both. How silly of me.”

“Fuckin’ watch it, bunny,” Abby spat, and you laughed. “I mean it.”

“Whatever. You’re idiots,” you mumbled, and Ellie had thinner patience than Abby did — meaning one more insult would cause her to take you in the car. She tossed your dress at you, eyes boring into you. “You could just hand it next time.”

“You are one more backtalk from getting it,” Ellie warned, and your smile slowly faded. “Anything else you need to confess before we deal with you in the dawn?”

“Oh, I can’t have a life of my own!” You realized, carelessly putting back on your outfit.. “Can’t take drugs without your eyes following me. Can’t even hang out with someone without a bodyguard being there! So fucking annoying!”

“If it’s so annoying, why stay?” Abby asked.

You went silent, looking away from the both of them, and finished throwing on your dress, slouching in your seat. “Only ones who take care of me,” you murmured, so soft and quiet, pouting too. “Make me feel special.”

“Yeah, and we’re the only ones who will put up with you this way,” Ellie added, and you nodded, tears welting in your eyes. “Who else is gonna do that? Tell us.”

You shook your head. “No one… no one,” you mumbled, chewing on your lower lip. “Can… Can I sit on your lap? Please?”

Ellie heavily sighed before giving in, beckoning you. You practically hopped into her lap as you wrapped your arms around her neck, nuzzling your face into her chest.

You fell asleep on the ride back to the shared penthouse.

Sunlight crept into your eyes, taking you out of your gentle slumber. You groaned, stuffing your face into the pillow, and felt warmth on both sides of you. Your eyes slowly parted, finding Ellie’s tattooed arm dangling over your chest, Abby’s looped around your waist.

You were trapped in between them, no way out. Your head pounded, your nose stuffy, and dying in sickness. You stayed still, trying to resurface last night's events, yet only blur spots flickered in your head. You whimpered, loud to drag Abby out of her slumber, her eyes adjusting to the sight of you.

“Hey, bunny,” she whispered. “You okay?”

“Did I drink last night?” You asked, and she weakly chuckled, nodding.

“And you did cocaine,” she muttered, and she brought her hand up, resting it on the side of your face. “You are in trouble.”

You panicked. “Whatever I did—”

“Baby, you are okay,” she assured, thumb caressing your cheek. “But you said some rude things. All we plan to do is spanking, that’s about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, and she kissed the side of your head. “Hope that’s the only stupid thing I did.”

“And you stripped and performed at a burlesque club,” she shared, and your eyes widened, whining in embarrassment. “Ellie nearly ripped your head off in the car.”

You looked over at Ellie, and grinned. “I’ll make it up to you both,” you promised, pressing a kiss to her lips, and she smiled, nodding. “I’m going to clean myself up, I feel a bit nauseous.”

“We had your things moved and unpacked yesterday,” Abby said, and you sat up, stretching out your arms.

“You broke into my house late at night, and got everything settled that quick?” You laughed. “I’m still a month away from attending school, and you’re already locking me down.”

“Better to get it done now,” she acknowledged, and you got up from the bed, padding over to the bedroom’s bathroom, closing the door behind you.

It took you only about thirty minutes to clean up, unimpressed by how worn out you looked. Your lipstick smeared, eyeliner and mascara cluttered around your eyes, your breath reeking of alcohol.

The shower was enough to relax your body, yet still felt sick, considering you needed a meal. You stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body, and stepped in front of the sink.

You found an unopened toothbrush waiting for you, and you grinned, opening it up. You turned on the faucet, and laid down a portion of toothpaste on your toothbrush, running it under the water shortly after.

You brought the object into your mouth, and used your free arm to pick up your pajamas. You walked over to the walk in closet, and looked around for the hamper, only to find it shoved into the corner.

Peeking over the basket, you noticed a white shirt stained with some red on it. It grabbed your attention, looking too crimson to be considered red wine, or anything else.

You just shrugged it off, putting your clothes over it, and went back to brushing your teeth. “Hey Abs,” you called from the bathroom. “What kind of shit did you get into last night?”

“What do you mean?” She shouted back, the loud conversation awakening Ellie.

“One of your shirts is stained,” you said, and Abby inhaled sharply, Ellie shooting up to look at her girlfriend. “Did I fall and eat shit, and get blood over one of you?”

“Honey, you did,” Ellie lied, voice groggy and hoarse. “I had to carry you inside, you had blood coming out your nose.”

“But I have no bruises or anything?” You realized, spitting out the paste, and cleaned up your toothbrush and mouth. You changed into shorts and tee before walking back into the bedroom. “Did you guys get into a fight last night?”

They went silent, and you got into the middle of them on the bed, going back and forth looking at them.

“You had an incident last night,” Ellie said, and your brows furrowed. “A man was being a fuckin’ dick, you called Abby, and we handled it.”

“Oh what, you fucking killed him?” You joked, and they laughed dryly with you, but enough to make it believable. “If you beat him, you just have to say that.”

“We handled it,” Ellie repeated, and moved herself closer to you, putting her hand on your cheek. “Now we need to handle you.”

You rolled your eyes, bitterly scoffing.

“Fuckin’ roll them again,” she dared, and Abby laid back against the headboard, letting everything unravel. “Always going to be a brat? Even when we’re so good to you?”

Your face softened into a doe expression, tilting your head to the side. “Doesn’t that make you want to fuck me?”

“We won’t even touch you if that’s what you're trying to accomplish here,” she taunted, and her hand snaked up to the side of your head, tightly gripping your hair. “When are you going to learn, little lamb? Is what we do for you not enough?”

“It is,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Then why do you keep acting like it isn’t?” She asked, and eyed over to Abby. “What should we do with her?”

“Break her,” Abby said, getting up from her spot. Ellie grinned, turning her head back towards you, and your cheek was met with a harsh slap. You gasped, and her hand slid down to the back of your neck, pushing your body onto the bed.

“Fuckin’ strip,” Ellie spat, and you whimpered, but obliged. You fiddled with the ending hem of your shirt, taking it off, and your fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties and pajama shorts. “Need you on all fours.”

You huffed under your breath, glad that she couldn’t see you roll your eyes again. Your clothes piled down onto the ground, letting your knees sink into the mattress, your chest laying flat as your ass was lifted to her eyes for display.

“Baby, you’re fucking soaking,” Ellie cooed with Abby returning on time, able to hear the clicking of objects. “Let’s hold off on gagging her until she wants to say some shit.”

Abby moved to your eye level, grinning. “You want to keep being a desperate whore?”

“I’ll get my satisfaction either way,” you assured, and she inhaled sharply, eyes snapping into Ellie’s. The auburn handed her an item, noticing the pink ball. “Wait, wait!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Abby seethed, maneuvering your face and brought it up, fastening up the ball gag. “You’ve really fuckin’ done it this time, bunny. And Ellie is going to handle you, not me.”

You swallowed thickly, your doe eyes shining with pleas but the blonde dismissed you, tossing your face back onto the bed.

Both girls had stripped themselves bare, Ellie positioned behind you as Abby sat in front of you, her cunt for you to gawk at, but forbidden to please.

In a sharp breath, you felt thick silicone push into you, causing your cunt to stretch. You cried, yet it was mumbled, and Abby laughed at you. “Gonna deny you everything, honey,” Ellie muttered, her hands grasping onto your cheeks for support as she carelessly thrusted into you, breaking into you. “Need to make you cry, need to know you’re fucking place with us.”

“We could easily get rid of you,” Abby continued on, and your brows knitted together, shaking your head. “Could’ve fucking disposed you months ago, but no. Here we are, still putting up with your bratty ass.”

You cursed and moaned breathlessly, the pain turning into a bliss as Ellie’s strap pounded into you. “Wouldn’t want that, huh?” She asked, and you cried in response. “Course not, honey. No one fuckin’ loves you like we do.”

You stared at Abby with teary eyes, your hand aching to touch her, only for the blonde to slap it away. “No, take what you are getting right now,” she warned, and you nodded, your hips rolling and swaying with the rhythm of Ellie’s thrusts. “Won’t ya look at that? Little bunny just can’t get enough.”

Your hands grasped onto the messy bed sheets, nails digging into them. You stuffed your face into the material, lewd noises eliciting from you through the ball gag, almost feeling as if your body was jolted with electricity the moment Ellie’s strap found your orgasmic area.

“She’s enjoying this too much,” Abby pointed out, and Ellie hummed, all movement being halted. You groaned in protest, and she switched around your body, laying you flat on your back. She straddled herself on top of you, intimidating you with how she towered over you.

She popped the gag out of your mouth, your lungs engulfing fresh air. “Oh, little lamb,” she softly whispered, and smacked your face again, seizing it afterwards. “You got me upset, you know that? Treating me like shit.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, the strike burning your cheek before she placed another one. “Fuck!”

“You’re sorry?” She repeated, almost as if she didn’t trust you. “For which part, honey?”

“Just… just wanted to get a rise,” you admitted, breathing heavily. “Couldn’t ask for it.”

“Look where that landed you,” she said, and hit you once more, your head spinning. “You going to apologize to Abby, hm?” She climbed off of you, her hands guiding you around to face the blonde. “Say sorry, baby.”

You were a crying mess, and weren’t even at the worst part yet. Though you were scared, you were aroused; maybe you were as depraved as they were. You enjoyed the sadistic acts they brought onto you, wanting to be all theirs to use, and play with.

You were their girl at the end of the day, nothing could change that.

“I’m sorry, mama,” you mumbled, and Abby hummed, careless to your apology. “Please, mama. Didn’t mean it, I’ll be better.”

“You need to start acting right,” she said, and you nodded, mumbling promises through your sobs. “You aren’t able to leave us, you know that, right?”

“I won’t,” you reassured, sniffling. You knew that’s what many people wanted, that they knew you couldn't be without these two girls, simply as if they were your life support.

Everyone knew it.

“Where’s your blade?” Abby asked, and Ellie gestured to the night stand. She opened up the drawer, taking out her prized switchblade, something she always carried with her, but you didn’t know why. “Got to mark our girl.”

Ellie grabbed her knife, flicking it open, and she settled herself in between your thighs. She was grinning to herself, yet so was Abby, the two only knowing what they had done the previous night with the weapon, and you were clueless to it all.

“Need you to be a big girl for me,” Ellie stated, and you sucked in a sharp breath, the tip of the switchblade pointing into your right inner thigh, beginning to carve into your skin. “Right there, baby. Doing s’good for us, focus on mama.”

Abby scooted closer to you, putting your head on her lap. “Don’t cry, bunny. It’s gonna be over soon.”

Ellie branded her initial firstly into your right thigh before moving onto your left inner thigh, starting to cut Abby’s into it. You were trying your best to compose your body, squirming and softly sobbing to your skin being pierced.

“Mama, it hurts,” you pouted, and she caressed your cheek, looking down at you. “I know I’m your girl.”

“Just so you remember,” Abby reminded, groping your breasts. “Sometimes you forget, baby. We can’t keep repeating ourselves.”

You only nodded, melting into her gentle touch. Ellie threw her knife on top of the pile of clothes, smirking at initials. “Ah, now we can give you what you want,” she said, and you sighed in relief, a smile playing on your lips.

Dots of blood appeared on the wounds as the girls got up from the bed, opening the bottom drawer of the night stand. You stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the burn that scorned, and a large hand pressed onto the side of your body, shifting you around.

“Come on, baby,” Abby whispered, positioning you on your knees that sunk into the bed, and could feel her bare chest brush on your back. “Need you to spread yourself for us, you can do it.”

“You’re our girl,” Ellie promised, kneeling in front of you, and cradled your face into her warm hands. “Don’t know what we would do if you tried to leave us.”

Abby wetted her fingers, spitting down on your tight hole as she pushed two fingers into it to start you off. You roughly gasped, your body nearly faltering. “Stay steady, princess,” she said, moving her fingers at an easy pace. “Gotta prepare you for my cock, I need to make sure you can take it nice and sweet.”

Your face stayed in Ellie’s hands, trying to keep you focused on her. “Make sure to keep yourself spread for mama,” she told you, and you nodded, your shaky hands clawed down on your ass as you kept it spread open for Abby. “You can take it, you always do. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

“Yes daddy,” you muttered, and Abby’s fingers popped out of you. She put her hand back on your shoulder, guiding you back in the same moment she let her strap harshly sink into your whole. You cursed under your breath, tears welting in your eyes, and Ellie cooed, keeping your face in place.

Abby didn’t move further, letting your hole take in all of her, and nodded at Ellie. She dropped her hands, hooking your arms around her neck as she filled your hot cunt with her strap, and your body shuddered, your face collapsing down onto her chest. “No no, baby,” she said, shaking her head. “You gotta show us how much you want us. Fuck yourself on our cocks.”

“Too stuffed,” you mumbled, and Abby’s hand reached for the front of your neck, tugging your head back.

“Show us how needy you are, pathetic bitch,” Abby spat, and you whimpered, but compiled, gently bouncing yourself on both silicone objects. “Yeah, that’s it, bunny. Fuckin’ take everything we give you.”

Ellie’s was captivated by the way your cunt swallowed her strap, dripping and soaking it already. “This is all you wanted, right?” She taunted, breathlessly chuckling. “Just wanted us to make you cock drunk, for us to treat you like the dumb whore you are.”

“Y—Yes, yes!” You choked out, rolling your hips as your body began to endure the scorching pleasure. “Oh my god, feels s’fucking good, please.”

“You’re barely fuckin’ two minutes in on fucking yourself,” Abby laughed, bringing your head back and laid down on her shoulder, forcing you to look up at her, “And you’re already falling apart. Can even hear how wet your pussy is.”

“Want to be fucked, please,” you breathed, on a brink of sobs. “Can’t do it on my own.”

“You have to earn it, love,” she stated, and grinned. “Show us how bad you need us, want us to fuck your pretty holes.”

You pouted, and she shoved your head back forward, a spin of dizziness whirling in your brain. Ellie sadistically smirked in front of you, her hands laid on your thighs, and tilted her to the side. “Looks you’re about to cry, little lamb,” she teased, and you kept heavy eye contact as your holes stretched further with every desperate bounce. “Got nothing to cry about, honey. You brought this on yourself, you know that.”

“S—said sorry, daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath shook, sobs threatening to spill from you. You were overfilled with needs, feeling as if you were in heat, and only they could put the fire out. You could fuck yourself good, but they could make you feel orgasmic tides crash into your soul, and take you in one.

“Only saying sorry ‘cause you’re not getting what you want,” Ellie said, and you were quick to deny it. “Don’t fuckin’ lie, you know how much we hate that.”

“Please, please,” you begged. “I’ll be so good, won’t be a brat ever again.”

“Fucking lying again,” Ellie scoffed, and Abby grinned, smacking your ass. “Don’t worry baby, we like when you are; means we get to see you cry and break.”

You were stuck in the middle of these two, falling apart on their cocks as they observed you, waiting for you to break down into sobs. This was their whole pride, everything they fucking thrived off of, and if it made them the happiest they’ve ever been, you would them hurt you over and over again.

Your bouncing turned rapid, breasts in sync, and porngraphic noises drawing out of you. Your sensitive spots were being hit at, your eyes rolling back, and could feel heat pooling in your abdomen. Your hands reached out for one of them, but they denied you of it, leading you to fall into pits of sobs.

“There it is,” Abby growled. “Just what we wanted.”

“Can’t do it,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “Please, need mama. Need your help, please.”

“Yeah, bunny? Need us to take over?” She asked, mockery tangled in her tone. “Can’t use that silly brain of yours, huh? Our poor baby that’s useless.”

Her words mixed in with the fire that bubbled inside of you, expanding into your thighs. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you babbled, choking on your tears. “Need it s’bad, please. Just fuck me.”

Ellie halted your movements, and kissed your cheek. “We got you, honey. Let us do whatever we want, okay? We need to fill your holes, want to see it leak out of you.”

The duo situated themselves before handling you to stretch your form better, your knees locking place to keep you up. Abby braced her hands on your waist before her strap brutally thrusted into you, Ellie following the same tempo shortly after.

You could feel yourself being split open, Abby’s hands residing on your hips as Ellie’s let hers rest on the sides of your breasts. Their noises were shaky, rough, and undeniably lewd, a string of curses muttering out of them.

They would always be hypnotized by you, your body, and how fucking well you always took them. They would fuck you hours on end, and they have before, but they couldn’t get enough it. It was a fucking drug, worse than any they’ve taken. Everything about you was addicting and pure perfection to their eyes, knowing that they would be the only ones who could see you crumble under them like this, let them take control of you, and tear you apart.

They wanted to fucking spend the rest of their life in your pussy, fucking destroying it, and letting it cry with you.

Raw lust was a firestorm on your skin, sinking into your body, and coursing through you. Your climax was overrode, about to collapse on you, and take you entirely, just needing to be free. Your legs trembled, slowly weakening, and a muscular arm snaked around your waist to lock you in.

“Our pretty girl needs to cum,” she acknowledged, and Ellie’s fingers furiously hooked around your throat, squeezing it. “What do you think, babe? We let her cum?”

“Don’t know if she deserves it,” Ellie said, and your sobs were uncontrollable; your body was breaking, haze clouded in your head, and your high was unbearable over the limit. “You want to cum, little lamb? ‘M having too much fun seeing you like this.”

“Wanna cum, need to cum,” you blubbered, breath hallowed, and could feel them so far into you, you could almost swear they were poking at your stomach. “I’ll be so good forever. ‘M your girl, only yours; won’t ever be ungrateful again.”

Ellie grinned. “You mean that, honey?”

You mindlessly nodded, agreeing anything just so you could cum — it was fucking torturous.

“Cum for us, sweetheart,” Abby said, and you exhaled in relief, your body relaxing to her permission. Like a violent hit, your high crashed out of you causing your body to jump and shudder. Abby kept her arm around you, the pair not being done with you until they came.

You could hear the sploshing of your juices as Ellie viciously rammed into you, Abby’s cock abusing your tight hole with absolutely no remorse. You were there, letting yourself be their garbage waste, waiting for them to fill you up.

“Imagine if we could fuckin’ put a baby in her,” Abby laughed, her moans knitted into it. “Make her our bitch forever, wouldn’t be able to leave us then.”

“That what you want, angel? For us to make you a pretty mommy?” Ellie asked, and you blankly agreed, braindead and numb. “Keep you trapped forever, nowhere to fuckin’ go.”

Abby and Ellie always considered that; having a family with you, though they never practically discussed it with you, or if that’s what you wanted. They truly wanted you in their life forever, needed you in every way that would kill them if they couldn’t have it. And if you did try to exit out of their lives, they would find a solution to reel you back in.

“Mama gonna fill your hole, ‘kay?” Abby warned, and you hummed, falling in and out of reality. Ellie left her on your throat as extra leverage as she continued to hammer herself into you, her own climax trailing behind the blonde’s.

A symphony of vulgar, raw noises echoed throughout the bedroom, and your second peak surfaced in the depths of your belly, your body frail and trembling.

“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” Ellie cried out, her nails clawing into your skin, and Abby’s hands crept down to your cheeks, clawing into them. Your skin was running hot and wild, their body heat radiating onto you as the room smelt of filth and sweat, shameless moans and whimpers wailing out of all three of you.

Your cunt and hole were stuffed with cum from their straps with Abby and Ellie’s climax dripped out of their sweet pussies. They pushed themselves out of you, and you fell back on the bed, gathering lungfuls of breaths.

“Won’t you look at that?” Abby said, her and Ellie mesmerized by their cum leaking out of your holes, their initials branded into your thighs. “So fuckin’ pretty, all for us to look at.”

“Head… hurts,” is all you could manage to say, curling up into a ball.

The girls took off their object, dropping it to the floor as they separated to obtain things for you. Abby went to the kitchen, grabbing cold water, painkillers, and a box of cherries for you; Ellie was in the bathroom, wetting a rag, and seized the first aid kit.

They rushed to your side in under a minute, worried that they might have finally done it this time.

“Baby, you with us?” Ellie panicked, and you nodded, sleep wanting to take you. “Can you sit up for us, please?”

“Can’t,” you whimpered, and Abby sighed, helping to pick you up. She kissed the side of your head, holding you sit up while Ellie aided you.

“You did so good for us, sweetheart,” Ellie cooed, running the cloth over your aching cunt and hole as you hissed in response. “I know, I know. Just need to make sure we clean you up well, okay?”

Abby brought up the glass of water to lips, stroking the side of your head while you took slow sips. “There we go, there’s our tough girl,” she whispered, and opened up the bottle of painkillers, inserting two pills in your mouth, returning the glass back to your mouth afterwards. “We’re so proud of you. You’re okay, bunny, we’re almost done.”

Ellie soothed your wounds with hydrogen peroxide, putting bandaids over it after. She put a chaste kiss to your hip, and you smiled small, thanking her. “You want to get some rest?” She asked, and you nodded. “Okay, honey, let us change the sheets while you eat some food, yeah?”

Abby carried to the loveseat sofa that sat in the corner of the bedroom, handing you the box of cherries as she helped out Ellie. The two weren’t even cleaned up, but made sure you were comfortable and okay before they were.

You wanted to cry.

They’re so fucking perfect, you said in your head.

You had eaten about five cherries by the time they fixed up the mattress, and put new sheets on top of it. You set the food next to you, and Abby returned to you, scooping you into her arms as you grasped onto her, sitting you on the edge of the bed.

Ellie picked out a new set of pajamas for you, changing you into new underwear, and a soft, pink nightgown. “Get some rest, and we’re gonna get ourselves fixed, ‘kay?” She said, guiding you under the duvet covers, and made sure you were tucked in. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

You hummed, your eyes drooping, and let rest take over you. You felt them press a loving kiss to your forehead before you passed out.

You could hear your ringtone tune, lulling you out of your slumber. You let it go through as it shut up a few seconds later, and you groaned, trying to fall back asleep.

Then, the ringtone came back, and the buzzing added onto it. Your hand reached for your phone, finding it laying next to you. You grabbed it, squinting to who was calling.

Joel Miller, the contact name flashed.

Why the fuck was Joel calling?

You noticed the time, seeing it to be 4PM — how fucking long were you asleep for?

You swiped the button right, bringing the device up to your ear. “Hello?” You mumbled, clearly exhausted and groggy.

“Hey, kid. I was wonderin’ if Ellie was with you?” He asked, trying to sound calm, but wasn’t. You instantly sat up, finding a note on the nightstand, and you picked it up.

Abby and I went out to get some things. Be back as soon as we can. Love you always, sweet girl.

Xo, Ellie.

“Um, no,” you answered, putting the note down. “Why? Did something happen?”

There was silence for a moment. “The cops are here, asking for her.”

“Cops. Why?” You asked, fear streaming through your whole body.

“They’re accusing her of murder,” Joel said, and you swallowed thickly. “Someone reported their friend missing — a Brandon James — saying how they saw him leave with Ellie, and Abby.”

Memories now began to flick in your brain, like bright lights, and bile burned at your throat.

The shirt. The red on the shirt.

Blood.

“We handled it,” you recalled Ellie saying.

“We handled it” was code for “we killed someone.”

You remembered the Brandon guy harassing you, grabbing your arm, and it sent you into full panic mode. You remember calling Abby about it, and Ellie giving you coke to distract you for the meantime. You remembered them not being with you for a while, keeping you with Dina and Jesse.

They needed you blind and gullible.

“Are you sure it’s even her description? People just say shit ‘cause they hate her,” you said, holding yourself together. “And Abby? That’s crazy.”

“Another person at the club supported it by saying they saw the two walking out with you,” Joel continued, and you quietly cursed under your breath, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “They were there, so were you.”

You went quiet as you heard some shuffling over the line.

“Do you know something?” He asked.

“I don’t,” you said, sincerity mingled in your words. “I promise I don’t. And I don’t remember anything about being at a club, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, well if you see her or them, call me,” Joel said, and you hummed, hanging up the call immediately. You let go of your shaky breaths, and nodded to yourself as a waterfall of hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You couldn’t stop thinking of the shirt. It had someone’s blood on it, and they were dumb enough to leave it at home. You knew Jesse and Dina wouldn’t narc them out, they were the same as Ellie and Abby.

You were alone in this; you had the choice of coming forward with the shirt, or keeping your head down, being naive to everything.

Everything started to make sense — the possession, the house, the authority you had given them. They never wanted you to leave, and they eliminated any threats, even ones that hurt you. You were glad they were there at your beck and call, but you never knew it would go to the extremes of murder. You were starting to worry that this wasn’t the first time they did this, but the first time it was starting to catch up with them.

You continued to sob as you went through your phone contacts, and clicked your mother’s number.

It took a few rings until she picked up. “Hello?”

“Momma…” you sobbed out, not knowing how to explain what you were thinking without exposing a lot of things. “Momma, I’m worried.”

Your parents weren’t entirely neglectful — if you really needed them, they were there, and would never get mad at you for anything, even if you had some fault in it. They had their fatal flaws, ones that even affected you, but they’d drop everything if you were in danger.

You never knew why that was, but you appreciated it.

“What’s wrong, dear? What happened?” She asked. “Why are you crying?”

“I think something bad happened,” you sobbed, sniffling. “And… and I can’t be here, in the city. It’s a lot to explain, but can I stay with you in Milan? Please?”

“You’re worrying me, cherie,” she said, and you broke down further, everything in the room spinning with you. “You can come stay. Are you at home?”

“At this penthouse… I’ll send the address to Tony,” you stated, trying to steady your breathing. “Thank you, momma.”

“Of course,” she softly responded, and the line went dead. You rushed down to your feet, running into the walk-in closet, and grabbed a suitcase. You tossed random amounts of clothes until the baggage couldn’t take anymore; you could buy more stuff in Milan.

You tossed your hygienic products on top of the clothes, and before you were going to zip up the luggage, your eyes averted to the hamper. You contemplated taking the shirt with you, burning it in another country so nothing would be traced back to them.

You couldn’t tamper with evidence. But these were your girls, and it was your turn to take care of them, even if their actions made you sick at this very moment. You grabbed the bloody shirt, tucking it under your clothes, and zipped up the suitcase. You put on your sneakers, and tossed a leather jacket over your nightgown.

Abby’s jacket.

You shrugged it off, and grabbed your cell phone, putting it in your purse. You double checked to see if you had everything in your purse before rushing yourself out of the penthouse, and into the elevator.

You didn’t need to leave a note, or anything of that sort. You couldn’t talk to them for a while, not until you made sure you weren’t crazy or overthinking this whole situation. But the shirt was enough to confirm the first of your suspicions, and what Ellie said.

“We handled it”, her voice kept playing in your head, like a broken record.

For now, you needed to isolate yourself; besides, it wasn’t like they would find you.

That wasn’t possible.

You hoped.

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aryadelvich · 21 days ago

Text

Summary : You’re a student in law at the university of Colombia in New York. It’s your last year. Professor Luigi Mangione teach in this university and you’re one of his student in cybersecurity course. He has a crush on you and asks you on a date.

Here’s part 2 and part 3

And a request not related to the story (Luigi request)

— Columbia University —

You’re seated alone in the faculty lounge, your nerves quietly bubbling under the surface. Today, you were set to teach an introductory criminal law course for first year students. You could always recognize a young cohort when you saw one—still slightly clinging to their high school mentality. Despite your nerves, you were also eager. Law was your passion, and the opportunity to teach it felt like an honor. You often joked that professors were just professionals who loved hearing themselves talk about their favorite subject for hours on end.

You diligently prepared your handouts, reviewed your notes, and double-checked your presentation for typos. You were So engrossed in your task that you didn't notice someone sitting down next to you until his raspy voice broke your concentration.

"Good morning y/n” Luigi's curious tone startled you.

He was always so polite, never skipping the rituel of politeness.

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat. It was him. Again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn't help but wonder what lay behind that constant smile of his. It was as if he were perpetually amused by something no one else could see.

"I'm preparing for the lecture I'm giving to the first-years," you replied, calmly.

"Oh, I see. Preparing? At the last minute?" he teased, his voice adopting a half-paternal, half-professorial tone, as though ready to scold you.

"No, I'm reviewing," you corrected him, emphasizing the word. "Making sure everything's in order."

He looked relieved. "Good. A lecture shouldn't be prepared overnight. Trust me, I know."

"Really? No way! I hadn't noticed at all," you shot back sarcastically.

He grinned but didn't relent. "If you want, I can help with your presentation."

"Oh, please, Professor Mangione, save me!" You mocked dramatically. "I'm in distress and in desperate need of your superior male brainpower!"

He was always up for helping others. Hero complex maybe. Luigi chuckled, bowing his head slightly in surrender.

"I get it. You don't want my help. Fine. But I'm free from 10 to 1 today, so I'll sit in on your lecture. You know, just to see how it goes."

"Are you sure?" You asked, a sly glint in your eye that didn't escape Luigi's notice. You were definitely plotting something, but his curiosity got the better of him.

From his backpack, Luigi pulled out a remote with a laser pointer and handed it to you.

"You'll need this. It's handy for switching slides."

You softened, smiling at the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you."

Noticing the time—9:50 a.m.—you gathered your materials and headed toward the assigned lecture hall for your three-hour session. Luigi followed a few steps behind.

As you entered the classroom, all eyes turned to you. It was common for those in the legal field to carry themselves with poise: immaculate attire, perfect posture, and an undeniable air of authority. Luigi quickly took a seat in the third row, his gaze never leaving you.

You approached the podium with confidence, connecting your laptop to the projector with effortless ease. Though students were still settling in and whispering among themselves, you exuded calm professionalism. Your eyes briefly met Luigi's, who wore his trademark smirk—half-mocking, half-amused.

You began in a steady voice:

"Good morning, everyone. I'm y/n y/s and today we'll dive into the foundations of criminal law. But first... let's break the ice with a question."

You paused, scanning the room before zeroing in on Luigi.

"Professor Mangione, since you've graciously decided to join us, maybe you'd like to enlighten us?"

Luigi, caught off guard but clearly entertained, straightened in his seat.

"Me?"

"Yes, you," you said with a mischievous smile. "Surely someone as brilliant as you already knows the answer."

You’re giggling inside, taking revenge from what he did to you. The students turned to look at him, curious about the unfolding interaction. He crossed his arms, leaning back with feigned contemplation.

"All right. Ask your question."

You didn't flinch, your smile widening slightly.

"Define 'criminal offense' in one concise sentence."

Luigi grinned awkwardly, eliciting a few quiet chuckles from the class. He could feel the challenge in your eyes. You were enjoying this. But instead of feeling trapped, he saw it as an opportunity to impress you.

"The criminal offense is..." He paused dramatically. "...an act or omission prohibited by law and punishable by a sanction."

You tilted your head, your smile triumphant.

"Not bad. But you forgot to mention that it must be defined by a legal provision. A crucial detail, Professor Mangione."

The students chuckled, appreciating the exchange. Luigi nodded, accepting the correction with good humor.

"You're right. My apologies, Professor y/s" he said with a submissive voice.

Throughout the lecture, you continued to engage the students, sparking debates and answering questions. But you couldn't resist circling back to Luigi, throwing him curveballs with hypothetical scenarios. He responded each time with a mix of humor and insight, keeping the atmosphere light and engaging.

Near the end of the session, you delivered your final jab.

"One last question for our special guest: Professor Mangione, in your opinion, what's the main difference between criminal law and a cybersecurity class?"

Without missing a beat, Luigi replied, his signature smirk in place:

"Easy. In cybersecurity, the goal is to avoid prison. In criminal law, you learn how to put others there."

The room erupted into laughter. You shook your head, amused but unwilling to let him have the last word.

"Well, I see a promising career in comedy if tech ever bores you."

As the class dispersed, Luigi approached the podium, hands in his pockets.

"Not bad, y/s. You really know how to hold a class's attention."

You packed up your things, smirking.

"Thanks. And you really know how to make a spectacle of yourself."

"I try my best to contribute to society," he said with mock seriousness.

You raised an eyebrow. "Admirable."

He looked at you, his tone softening.

"You need to stop complimenting me. I might start liking you more than I should."

You froze for a moment, unsure of his intent. Was he talking about friendship... or something more? He stepped closer, the distance between him and you shrinking as his gaze locked on yours.

"What?" You whispered, caught off guard.

"Are you free tomorrow evening?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

"Yes..."

"I'd like to take you somewhere. Would you say yes?"

"Is this... a date?" You asked, needing clarity.

He nodded with a shy smile on his face. "Yes."

For the first time, you blushed, your usual composure slipping.

"All right..."

Luigi's face lit up with his most genuine smile.

"Tomorrow, 7 p.m. I'll pick you up. What's your dorm?"

"John Jay, room 703."

"Got it. See you tomorrow."

You parted ways in silence, the tension lingering in the air. Once out of sight, Luigi exhaled deeply. He hadn't expected you to agree. His feelings for you were becoming too strong to ignore, and for once, he'd decided to take the leap.

You guys liked it ? Do you want me to write others stories of Luigi ?

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi my beloved #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x yn

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

Text

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Matt Rempe

summary: after a gruelling breakup with you boyfriend, you thought taking the opportunity to teach some nhl players how to figure skate for the nhl youtube channel would be the best distraction. after seeing who your assigned player is though, you're not sure if it'll be as easy as you thought.

17.6+k

a/n: this is fic that mentioned figure skating and bare with me because I know absolutely nothing about it! also the first figure skating dialogue is meant to be read as like a compilation of that makes sense - like it’s not a complete scene just highlights of one. OH and the dialogue of the montage scenes are literally inspired from coach chippy’s tiktok where he learns how to figure skate. clearly that was my inspiration. okay, that’s all, enjoy!

link to playlist

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the streets and busy buildings of new york city flash past you, screaming at you with large signs and bright lights. the taxi stops, stuck in a corner of traffic. you sigh gently, your busy travel day beginning to catch up with you. it's not like you even travelled that far, but any type of travelling always took your energy away. you look away from the bustling streets and rejoin the reality of the taxi cab.

the familiar melodies of taylor swift are gently playing through your wired headphones - wired because you've lost two pairs of airpods and can't afford a third set. instinctively, your eyes find the rearview mirror like you're the one driving, your own exhausted face starting back at you. you frown at yourself, looking away.

your taxi driver is taking, his thin lips moving animatedly expressing as he - oh he's talking you.

you tug your headphones out, abruptly stopping your music. "i'm sorry, what was that?"

"are you from new york? or vacationing?" the driver repeats himself, eyes kind from where he glances at you in the mirror.

"i'm here for work, actually." you tell him, deciding to pack up your phone and headphones for the remainder of the drive, shoving them in your duffle bag.

"ah okay, what do you do for work?"

you knaw on your lip - you've never really known how to answer that question. you're technically a professional figure skater. you went to boston university for skating and competed on the world woman's figure skating team. but that didn't always pay the bills, so you split the rest of your time working reception at a house league arena and teaching figure skating to kids 5-7.

"I teach figure skating," you settle on. the taxi starts to move again, the driver taking a sharp left turn that jolts you sideways in the backseat.

"some kids need your help here?" the driver laughs gently, working the wheel to weave the car through traffic.

you breath a little chuckle, eyeing the traffic. "something like that."

a few weeks ago you had been approached by somebody apart of the social administration team for the national hockey league asking if you'd be interested in a mini youtube series where they had professional skaters come and teach nhl players how to figure skate.

at first you were going to pass on the opportunity. your boyfriend of two years had broken up with you only a week before the nhl reached out to you- claiming he wasn't in love with you anymore and needed a fresh start. you were crushed - and honestly still are. you thought there was no way you'd be able to focus on teaching professional athletes how to arabesque properly all while navigating you're first real breakup.

but after really mulling it over, you decided that it could be the distraction you needed in your healing process. you told them yes and two weeks later you were on the train from boston to new york city - all your stuff packed in your nike duffel bag. it shouldn't be too overwhelming, you think. after all, it wasn't just you that would be teaching, there'd be four other figure skaters there with you. the email wasn't too informative about how it would all work, but it gave you basic information like schedule, times, and the actual idea of what was being filmed.

you'd each be assigned an nhl player from the teams in the surrounding areas, and you'd be responsible for not only teaching them how to figure skate, but creating a brief routine for the nhl youtube channel - then again preformed for one of the local kids hockey teams. as well, all proceeds from the video would be given to the kids - which was obviously amazing.

the taxi pulled up to the sheltered entrance of your hotel, which thankfully the nhl was paying for. after all, this trip wasn't one where you'd be getting commission and were solely here voluntarily - so you appreciate how kind the nhl has been with expenses.

"here you go," your taxi driver turns over his shoulder and gives you a warm smile, "need help with your case?"

you shake your head, "i've got it, thank you." digging through your bag to grab some cash, giving it to the old man before making your exit.

he thanks you politely. "good luck teaching those kids," he says. "I know how hard they can be to get through to."

"oh i'm ready for it."

with that you make your way into the hotel, checking in at the reception desk. the hotel is like ridiculously nice and a bag boy even takes your suitcase from you and preemptively delivers it to the room before you get there.

immediately once you get into your room, you exhale tiredly. you shower quickly, barley getting to admire how stunning the bathroom was because of your lacking levels of energy. you don't even dry your hair before you're getting into bed, setting an alarm before closing your eyes.

your stomach is tickling with nerves as you begin thinking about your day tomorrow - the unknown of it all making you anxious. you just pray your designated nhl player is a good listener, patient and a good partner.

— Day One

"and this is the rink - obviously nothing crazy but it is the rangers practice facility so it's definitely nice," mark, the main personal of the admin team gestures to the stark white rink behind him, an excited smile on his face as he talks to you all.

just the smell of the ice has you smiling, and any lingering feelings of anxiety you were feeling about this week were disappearing. you breathe happily, taking another look around the arena facility.

"look at that ice." beside you, another figure skater gleams, her dark brown eyes transfixed on the sheet in front of you. she had introduced herself earlier as shay, her bubbly personality quickly exposed as she started asking you a million questions excitedly. "I can't wait to tear it up."

you quirk a brow slightly, lips pulling into a smile. "well, i'm not sure how much actual figure skating we'll get to do between teaching."

she groans and you giggle at her dramatics.

"alright, guys so," mark claps his hands together, gathering all figure skaters and media personals attention. "we're going to head back to the meeting room and the players will be arriving shortly - once they get here we will go over the process of partnering up and the schedule."

you enter the meeting room soon after, shay at your side - a spring in her step. as you make your way back to the table you'd earlier left your duffle bag (stuffed full with anything you may need), you can't help but feel eager to learn which players would not only be participating, but which player you would be assigned to.

the skaters take various seats in the room, but mostly stick together - opting for the two oval tables towards the side of the room. demi, a small blonde girl, takes a quick seat beside you, immediately resting her chin on her palm as she leans in. "who do you guys hope is here?" she smirks, her voice quiet as she asks. demi doesn't wait for an answer before she speaks again, "i'm hoping for trevor zegras."

out of the corner of your eye you watch as shay gives an unimpressed look. you fight off the knowing smirk that begins to make its way on to your face - you weren't going to be the one to tell the blond that the chances of zegras coming to new york from the other side of the country was very unlikely.

"i'm hoping for somebody who doesn't mind a challenge," you say gently, "doesn't matter who."

demi just hums uninterested, eyes leaving you and moving over towards the front of the room. just as she does so, mark along with another older gentleman enters the room, the latter of the two holding a stack of papers in a brown folder, the word "CONFIDENTIAL" stamped in bold font on the front.

instantly, you become nervous again. the door reopens a few seconds later, and five men walk into the meeting room, laughing and chatting with one another as they do so. based on the pure build of them, you know they are the nhl players you'd all be teaching. you didn't know too much about hockey, and without them wearing their teams jersey you had no idea who played for who. they all look around the same age, which was likely around yours.

in the middle of the five hockey players stands a very tall man - so tall that immediately you feel nervous. teaching somebody that tall and long limbed to figure skate would be difficult and an extreme learning curve. you can only hope whichever skater gets paired with him is patient (and you hope it's not you or shay). ideally somebody shorter and stocky would be best as they'll have an easier time learning spins and bends.

"alright, now that we are all here," mark starts, taking the stack of papers into his hands. "i'm going to go over the jist of what we're doing." he flips open to the first few pages, scanning it quickly before he starts again. "okay so, here's how it's going to work. James and I have preemptively paired each skater with one of our athletes, which was completely random - rempe don't start." one of the players laughs gently, dismissing marks teasing.

"the next couple days will have a lot of filming, so be prepared for the cameras and for my media crew to be all over you." another round of laughs echo throughout the room, and you smile gently. "to my hockey players, please be kind and respectful with the skaters - there already doing a great deal by coming here to teach you, so don't make it difficult."

James is the one to continue, his deep voice projecting around the room. "any and all proceeds from our tiktok and youtube accounts will be given to the new york rockets little league team. as well, the figure skater and assigned player will be preforming a mini routine for the rockets team before our hockey players will be playing a game with them - understood?"

a murmur of agreements can be heard throughout the meeting room. mark clears his throat, beginning to read off his papers. "shay biles, raise your hand for me," like told, shay happily puts her arm in the air, waving slightly. mark beams, "perfect, okay, john beecher this is your partner."

john waves back gently, nodding his head in greeting from across the room. shay definitely got lucky, you think. john seems kind, his eyes gentle and smile bright as he looks at shay. beecher is a name you've heard living in boston, and your younger brother has definitely screamed his name at the tv while watching the bruins. you feel a bit upset that you hadn't gotten john, at least that way you'd have living in boston to relate to.

one of the girls you hadn't really had a chance to talk with is called out next, and she gets paired with an islanders player. she seemed relatively content with her partnership, her smile wide and eyed slightly shiny as anthony greeted her from across the room- perhaps she was a fan of duclair.

demi is called for next. the blonde grins smugly, waving her fingers in a way that seems very amorous. "dawson mercer this is your figure skating partner." the nhl star in question raises his hand from between his crossed arms in greeting, giving the bright blonde one quick wave.

you swear you can hear demi mumble something to you about dawson being 'kinda cute', which makes you feel a bit awkward - you don't know is demi wants you to respond or just stay quiet and nonchalant. shay seems to of heard demi's comment, and she nudges you side gently. shay's smile is barley noticeable, but you see it, and you have to hide you face.

"okay, y/n y/l/n..." mark calls your name and your stomach swoops. the reality of the situation all feels a bit daunting - reminding you of when a teacher would randomly call on you in primary school. your hand moves upwards, your elbow still resting on the table top as you wave gently. mark smiles triumphantly, "ah wonderful - okay matt rempe this is your partner."

it feels like the room goes silent, the constant mumbling and laughter from the table of nhl players comes to a halt. nervous and confused, you eye them all, waiting with anticipation for matt rempe to make himself known - although based on the pause of commotion in the meeting room, it seems like everybody but you is already acquainted with him.

just then, the tallest one that had caught your eye earlier leans forward. you can feel your stomach come up your throat before quickly dropping down to your feet. matt's lips tug up in a slinky smile, jerking his head once in greeting. you can't believe your luck. of course you'd get paired with the borderline giant guy - you can't even begin to fathom how much taller he'll be on skates. you're not too sure yet how you're going to teach him to figure skate gracefully, especially when it comes to spins and gliding - both of those naturally being more difficult to do when you're taller.

you look away. the combination of matt's confident greeting and your own personal turmoil about his height all too much. you swallow nervously, fuck.

you can already tell from the way matt carries himself and how his co-workers act around him that he is the kind of guy who's very...vainglorious. that had you feeling even more timid about teaching him - still dealing with the affects of your heartbreak and learning how to handle everything on top of that was a very different feeling.

and just as the cherry on top, demi leans closer to you from across the table, her voice a quiet, teasing hum as she talks out of the side of her mouth. "lucky duck - you got the hottest one."

double fuck.

soon after the mini breakdown in your head - all figure skaters, hockey players and media personnel were directed back down to the ice level of the rink. the former two groups quickly getting ushered towards the dressing rooms of the practice facility to change into appropriate clothes for skating.

thankfully all the other skaters opted for a more toned down, casual figure skating attire, so you don't feel out of place in your flare leggings, leotard and align zip up. shay looks like she's wearing something similar to you, smiling at you warmly before leaving. so that anxiety slowly settles down.

shakily, you pull your hair into a ponytail, tugging to ensure it's tight and in place. you take a slow breath, preparing yourself for the day ahead of you. slipping on your skates, you've already decided you're not going to let any hockey player change your self-healing journey - the main reason you accept the offer was to heal. you breathe a smile, tightening your skates.

as you approach the ice, you take a momentary pause - observing the scene infront of you. most of the other skaters were enthusiastically chatting with their assigned nhl players, laughing and smiling as they stretched. the atmosphere around you was filled with anticipation and excitement, which had you stomach buzzing.

you step onto the sheet of ice, your eyes darting throughout the sea of skaters and media team. there's more people and camera crew than you were originally expecting, with a good chunk of the arena filled with professional filming cameras, wires, and photographers. with a push forward, you begin to make your way into the crowd, weaving through the chaos in search of matt rempe.

you've heard talk about the name matt rempe - living in a hockey based household with your brother and dad, his name was bound to come up. unfortunately, the talk you've heard hasn't been all sunshine and flowers. matt has made a name for himself in the nhl by fighting - which obviously wouldn't be a problem with your teaching because hopefully he doesn't want to fight you. that as well as his flirtatious personality though has you still feeling a bit worried.

you still haven't caught sight of him yet, which seems odd considering his towering frame. you're definitely not the shortest of all the figure skaters by any means, but you definitely have a smaller stature in compared to your partner and some of the others crowded towards the one side of the rink.

you push forward as you glance over your shoulder - eyeing behind yourself to try and catch sight of matt. you come to a halted stop, your body being held still.

"whoa," a voice breaths with laughter above you, large hands finding your shoulders to stop your movement. "gotta watch where you're going- just saved you from tripping over a pile of wires."

you jerk your head up, finding the soft but teasing brown eyes of matt rempe staring down at you. "matt!" you exclaim loudly. he raises his brows with amused suprise, which immediately has you flushing with embarrassment - you curse yourself for your uncool exterior. "hi! matt. sorry, I'm your skater, my names-"

"y/n," matt says your name - tone a combination of gentle and amusement, your clear borderline frantic state fresh on his mind. he releases the gentle grip on your shoulders in favour of dropping his hands back down against his side. "I remember."

"right, sorry." you laugh gentle, hands nervously fiddling with the zipper of your jacket - a bad habit you'd always had has been fiddling with your clothes as a distraction. you think it's because it helps focus your energy on something else - negative or positive. during your breakup, you think you destroyed two separate strings of hoodies.

you clear your throat, dropping your hands. "have you ever figure skated before?" instantly you regret your awkward question - and you try not to cringe at yourself. you can only hope you don't come across...unintelligent or discombobulated. the chances of a hockey player participating in this sequence of figure skating related events/ filming of he knew how was very unlikely.

matt looks himself up and down before eyeing your through his lashes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "I definitely have not."

you chuckle awkwardly, ringing your hands. "right, of course not. you probably would've turned down all this figure skating stuff if you knew how. after all why would you willingly volunteer to get bossed around and be taught something you already knew how to do! sorry, I feel like i'm rambling."

"you apologize a lot." matt laughs, eyes glimmering with charm in the arena lighting above. "you don't need to."

"sorry-" matt's brows raise, immediately cutting you off from another apology. "im not going to finish that."

matt smiles fondly.

just then, somebody approaches you both. he looks maybe 2 or 3 years older than you, with dark hair and standing around 6 feet tall. he's got a phone clutched in his hand, and a media lanyard around his neck. "hey," he smiles when he approaches, "i'm david. i'm apart of the social admin team for the nhl and i'll be filming you guys for the tiktok content - which will be today."

you shake his hand gently, "y/n, nice to meet you." matt follows suit, shaking david's hand in greeting. david briefly discuss the filming process with you and matt, and tells you what to expect with the cameras while you're teaching. david’s instructions, although speedy, make you feel more confident in the day - finally having a clear rundown of the process lifting a weight of your shoulders.

david directs you both towards the benches where some of the other partners are stood - waiting their turns in front of the camera. some groups are with their own social media team, filming for instagram and tiktok accounts. the lighting is dimmed on your half of the rink, providing the filming side with correct studio lighting. there's a small dunkin coffee station set up right by the bench entrance, filled with multiple coffee flavours, takeaway cups, creamers, sugar and even a box of donut holes.

you grab yourself a large paper cup, filling it to the brim with decaf. you don't even bother grabbing cream or sugar - taking three hearty gulps of coffee in hopes to get some hyperactive energy.

lowering the cup from your face, you catch sight of somebody as they skate up beside you. you glance over, just to see matt grab one of the cake flavoured deserts and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. he catches your gaze, and he smiles - mouth full of donut and all.

your brows raise in surprise, his clear comfortability almost has you feeling envious - for his sakes you're trying your best to lighten up and he just is already. you clear your throat twice, "need some coffee to wash all that down?"

matt eyes your cup and he almost makes a face. he swallows heavily, shaking his head. "i'm good - takes more than tiny donut hole to take me down."

you nod with understanding, an amused smile pulling at your mouth - you raise your cup, taking a sip to mask your enjoyment.

matt indulges in one more donut, dusting his hands free of any icing against the front of his rangers jersey. you cringe momentarily, resisting the urge to reach out and wipe away any remnants. "so," matt starts, finishing the last few chews of the donut, "how long have you seen skating?"

"my whole life," you tell him, happily taking another sip of your drink. "my mom was a figure skater so as soon as I could walk she put me in lessons," you continue, "which obviously seems a little controlling - but i'm glad she did...the opportunities i've had and the memories i've made are just unbelievable."

you pause and take a moment to think about your figure skating journey and just how thankful you are being put in lessons that young - you're not sure where you'd be without skating. you lost your mom when you were 15 - only 8 years ago. figure skating was always a way to stay connected to her and her memories. seeing your dad's blissful face when he watches you compete is always so fulfilling.

matt nods almost solemnly, as if he knows what you were thinking off. he shifts so his entire body is turned towards you, giving you his full attention. "that's actually pretty amazing - where do you compete?"

"i've gone to worlds a handful of times, which is just crazy at my age." you laugh in disbelief just at the thought. first time you went to worlds was when you were 16 years old, and a two more times when you were 17 and 18. you were one of the youngest competitors at being freshly 16 - only two girls from japan and canada being the same age.

matt's brows furrow, "how old are you know?"

"23 right now," you answer, "but I started competitively training when I was 12 and went to the first championship series when I was 16."

"holy crap," he laughs, nodding his head impressed - lips quirked in a half smile. "do you still train competitively? is all this your full time job?"

after another drink of your coffee, you sigh with ponder. "honestly - no. I still work in figure skating - teaching kids in my free time at the arena back home - hence why i'm here. it's just...." you trail off, brows furrowed as you try and find the right words. competing at the levels you used to was a lot. the diet was extremely strict, the training was intense and your mental and physical health was not good. you love skating and you'll always continue to teach it, but actually competing is something you'd never subject your body to again.

"too much." matt nods in understanding, answering for you.

you smile in conformation, "too much." you can tell by matt's sad and understanding smile that he knows exactly the strain and intensity you'd dealt with - he is an athlete after all. you clear your throat, "but i'm excited to be here though, I promise."

he dissolves into laughter, shoulders shaking. "don't worry, I didn't think you weren't."

you breath in relief, your moment of silent worry that matt would think you weren't grateful for the opportunity you were in slipping away. "so how come you decided to do this?" you ask curiously, topping up your coffee cup with more decaf. it overfills, sloshing over the rim as you look at him. silently, you curse, releasing the latch to stop the liquid from pouring out.

matt smiles fondly as you switch hands, moving your cup out of your wet hand. thankfully, it's not scorching so you're not burnt but you're wet and a little embarrassed. you're trying to shake the liquid off your hand when matt wordlessly grabs a napkin out of the stack on the table, gently grabbing your wrist as he pats your skin with it.

you swallow gently, watching him clean the coffee off your hand. matt doesn't seemed fazed, eyes focused on your sticky skin as he answers your question. "honestly, I don't think I was their first choice - they asked Schneider first but he declined. i'm glad they asked me next though, because i'm always looking to try new things." your hand is dry now, and matt balls the napkin up before throwing it into the trash can. he smiles, "and figure skating is on skates right, so I mean i've already got that part down."

in a moment of vulnerability, you spin back to properly face him. you go to speak, "can I be honest with you?"

he nods.

you continue, "tall people and figure skating don't always go hand in hand- when you're tall things like twizzles and jumps and flexibility don't come as easy. so when I first saw you I remember thinking I felt bad for your partner," you laugh once, "and then once I found out that you were my partner I got really nervous. I just...," you pause, sighing, "I don't want you to feel like you can't do it properly or as well as some of the shorter players or feel upset because I can't show you everything- i'm rambling again, sorry I-"

"y/n," he hums playfully, "the only thing i'll be upset about is if you keep apologizing for no reason." he spins on his skates so that his back is towards the coffee table, his side bumping into your front teasingly. he rests against the edge, hands gripping the table to keep himself steady.

you breath a laugh, mimicking his position. your arms brush together, and you belly sort off...wobbles. "I know, I know - I just want this to be good."

"it will be," matt smiles triumphantly.

david comes shuffling over again, now with a mini ring light attached to the media branded cellphone. he beams, coming to a shaky stop. he gestures to his phone, "i've got to get you two for a tiktok before the youtube crew takes you." david then goes into what you need to say and maneuvers you both to a more aesthetically appealing background.

you begin, smiling brightly at the camera and praying your eyes aren't squinty with the bright light. "hi tiktok i'm y/n and ill be teaching new york ranger, matt rempe, how to figure skate this week."

"stay tuned for exclusive content and behind the scenes on the new york rangers tiktok and instagram page - as well for the full videos on youtube." matt concludes, looking down at you briefly.

"great - that's amazing guys! i'll catch up with you both later." then david scoots away, back towards the exit off the rink where some media tables are set up - full of equipment, passes and extra water bottles and snacks.

next thing you know you and matt are both being ushered in front of the cameras for your segment of todays filming. like david, one of the directors - a middle aged blonde woman with a encouraging voice - tells you how to start and what to say. she ensures you if either of you need a break and/or further instructions to not hesitate to stop and ask.

with that being said, matt begins to video off. he stands tall, large arms held behind his back as he stands perfectly on the mark. "I'm matt rempe from the new york rangers and today I'm learning how to figure skate," matt smiles with exaggerated nervousness, eyeing you.

you giggle quietly, "and i'm professional figure skater, y/n y/l/n and today i'll be teaching matt the basics of figure skating - starting off easy for ole matt."

his arms come loose, and he holds his hands up in a surrender like position, turning towards you. "okay if im being honest I think i'll get the hang of this pretty easily," matt admits confidently.

smirking, you eye him, "let's see." you push off, skating away gracefully, spinning back around to face your partner. "ready for your first set of moves?"

"born ready."

you finishing off one of the quicker spins, making your final turn before gracefully skating out of the motion - demonstrating for matt.

his brows raise in shock, eyes slowly meeting the camera. staring down the lens. he shrugs doubtfully, cracking his neck in preparation. "my turn."

matt tries to recreate the spin, slowly and wobbly twizzling around the ice. it's definitely not perfect as he can't seem to stay in the same area and he only makes it around four full times before beginning to slip out. "that's crazy." he laughs in disbelief. "show me again."

"just-" you sigh with a smile, getting back into position to twizzle around once again. "like that."

matt tries again, and although his second attempt was more more successful, he was still a bit unstable with his movements. the tall athlete comes to a wobbly stop, brown eyes closing in discomfort. you know that face all too well and immediately you know he hasn't spotted - which is your own fault for not teaching him. "i'm dizzy,"matt puts his hands on his knees, leaning over to try and ground himself. "I don't even know how you do that."

once he's no longer feeling nauseous, you quickly teach him the importance of knowing how to spot.

matt's hands are heavy in yours, his grip tightening to mimick your hold as you both attempt another jump - granted it's a bit difficult considering his height. regardless, it's successful and he lands pretty much perfectly.

you encourage him further as you both skate, praises happily spilling from your mouth as you him skate gracefully - well, as graceful as somebody that tall can. you slow ever so slightly, tightening your grip again to signal for another jump.

matt's tongue pokes out and his brows furrow with concentration. he pushes off the ice like you showed him, jumping into the air. he lands again, a warm laugh leaving him. "oh my god!"

"great!," you beam, bringing you both to a slow stop. then you tell matt that he has to attempt jumping on his own and his once smile is quickly flipped.

"okay matt we gotta dip," you hum knowingly, already sensing his disappointment - matt's earlier distain towards low level figure skating moves ringing in your head. "dig real low."

like suspected, matt groans - it's not that he doesn't want to try and do the move because he knows that's why he's here and he wants to make your experience pleasant. he's groaning because he knows how him trying will end.

matt's first dip down to the ice is successful, and you gleam, gliding along beside him. "look at how low you are!"

matt continues to slide along the ice, one of his long legs extended in front of him. he's practically holding his breath, concentrating on making another successful dip down. it isn't much longer before he slips, landing roughly on his back.

matt groans in displeasure, his arms falling dramatically as he rolls on the ice. the sight of the tall man laying on the ice like a child has you laughing into your palm, eyeing him gently.

he pushes back onto his knees before standing to his full height, brows furrowed. "are you laughing at me?" matt questions you, his own laugh slipping out between his uncomfortable groans - the wind just about knocked out of him from the fall.

your hands fall from your face, raising in surrender. "i'm not even laughing cause it's funny. it's just like-"

"I was digging for you." matt claims cheekily - referring to your earlier comment about matt needing to dig deeper into figure skating. "I wanted to go low for you." he's gently rubbing his elbow, a grimace still on his face.

"I know. you were actually very low I was impressed."

you expertly lean into your spin, bending your back to complete the movement.

matt squints unsure. "i'm having a hard time committing to that right now."

you move forwards, quickly stopping your skates as you swing your body from side to side - skate blades tearing into the ice in a jerk like motion.

matt watches you closely from where he takes a momentary break against the boards. "oh so we are doing slow mo now?"

"yup." you chirp, rounding back towards him.

"fuck me," he huffs out, pushing off the wall. they'll definitely have to bleep that out.

your back is practically pressed into matt's chest, breathing gently as you push your bodies together. "give me your other hand," you remind him gently. "goes on the hip."

like told, matt's large hand rounds in to the dip of your hip, securely holding onto your body in preparation for a glide. against your other hand, his fingers flex slightly, fixing his grasp.

"okay and you're going to push off the ice."

"okay," he mumbles from above the top of your head. he goes to push off the ice, but from pure instinct he kicks off too strongly and too quickly - his legs wobbling as he practically launches you both. matt curses, toe picking to a stop.

"woah," he breaths a laugh. "not smooth, eh? let's redo that."

you laugh gently, and you pull him back into proper position. "you got it, just focus on the journey rather than the destination."

"I can't concentrate when you're looking at me like that." matt says, a small teasing smirk following as you both get ready to glide again.

"oh my god." you mumble.

matt's breathless, hands on his hips as he collects himself after trying to do more practice on his solo jumps. he looks dead at you, lips tugging up into a smirk, panting as he tries to collect himself. "we don't need to do any triples axels today."

you giggle through your own breathlessness, sympathetically patting his padded shoulder. "you've worked hard enough."

"i'll do a triple axel probably next session." he jokes, shrugging nonchalantly. you scoff, pushing against his shoulder teasingly.

"i'm sweating," matt huffs.

"why are you standing like that?" you laugh, pausing your demonstration to skate over towards matt.

"what do you mean? that's just how I stand." it's definitely not how he stands - and he's looking rather uncomfortable as he attempts to balance on his toes, his knees bent.

you can only laugh in disbelief. in an attempt to fix his awkward posture, you push against his chest with one hand, trying to angle him backwards while your other hand attempts to keep his lower back in proper position. "you're ridiculous - you look like jason kelce ready to catch a football."

"I think my hips are too far forward," matt hums thoughtfully, teetering uncomfortably.

"yeah?" you question.

"yeah," he nods with confirmation, swishing his hips around in a circular motion - trying to loosen his muscles. "they're too tight - everything's too tight." he sends an exaggerated wink in your direction, trying to further us attempt at a dirty innuendo.

you splutter, heat rising to your face. "stop it."

finally after a tiring and eventful couple hours, you and matt are done skating and filming for the day. it's only a couple minutes of an interview like questionare on the other end of the ice - away from jamie drysdale as his figure skater begins to go over turns before you get to get changed.

you're exhausted by the time you're walking out of the change room - swapping your athletic zip up for an oversized hoodie and figure skates for your slip ons. you let your ponytail down, fluffing the kinks from your hair as you begin to make your way down the hallway towards the parking garage entrance.

thankfully, yesterday when you arrived you had an email from the nhl informing you that your rental car, courtesy of the nhl, had arrived to your hotel and the keys were with reception. you're very thankful, because spending all your money on taxis wouldn't be ideal.

you’re right at the car, your finger already placed against the unlock button on the rented key fob when someone calls your name, the familiar voice echoing through the concrete parking garage.

matt comes up beside you just as you turn around - a friendly grin on his lively face.

you smile politely. "hey."

he breaths a greeting, "hi." matt doesn't say anything else - only continuing to look down at you gently, an unknown expression along side his gaze.

your brows come together with amused confusion, your lips changing into a slight smirk. "everything okay?" you ask, leaning back against your car door.

he blinks out of his stare, shaking his head slightly. "yeah, sorry. just wanted to thank you for today - you're really patient and like super chill. i'm looking forward to tomorrow and working with you further - god knows I didn't make it the easiest task."

"oh," you breathe, "thanks, matt that's really kind of you to say. you're great at this, don't worry."

he laughs softly, "thanks - still not sure about those spins though."

you giggle gently, the thought of matt's green complexion and woozy eyes still fresh in your mind. you tug your tongue, poking at his bicep "spotting," you remind him.

"right, spotting," he kisses his teeth, nodding with thought. his mouth opens briefly, nothing but silence coming out - but then he sighs, "you're ridiculously good, y/n, i've been blown away by you."

you swallow thickly, completely shocked at his kind words and warmhearted complexion. he smiles sheepishly, like he might be embarrassed by his straightforward compliment. you muster up a grin, fiddling with the edge of your sweatshirt. "that means a lot to me - thank you."

"you're welcome," he says sheepishly, rubbing one of his large palms over the back of his neck. matt steps backwards, eyes meeting yours. "i'll see you tomorrow, y/n."

"i'll see you tomorrow, matt."

— Day Two

like yesterday, you and matt ended up being one of the first skating partners to be filmed. which was kind of nice, because after the hour or so of teaching him, you got to have a break. granted today both you and matt had to stay for some extra interview style filming and then proceed to begin to practice the 40 second - 1 minute routine needed for a few days time.

you had already finished your question session for the day, so you were sat comfortably on one of the benches. the sounds of shay's skates gliding across the ice as she taught john some more complex spins was a soothing noise - giving you a moment to reflect.

last night after your long day spent with matt, you had gotten back to your hotel exhausted once again - eyes practically fluttering closed on the elevator ride up. you had briefly checked social media before heading to bed in search for some brain distraction before sleep - only to be met with your exes instagram story with another girl: the two looking very cozy together.

that sent you into a depressive spiral, which included lots of self doubt and crying. it's not even the fact that he had moved on from your relationship quickly, but the thought of him having no regards for how you may feel had you feeling sick - your self doubt and insecurities in full force.

your eyes had still hurt from your night of crying when you woke up - definitely still puffy as you showed up at the rink. you definitely hadn't been as layed back today, and most of your responses were short and quick - your movements not as precise or clean. your heartbreak was beginning to affect you on the rink...all because of a stupid instagram story. you honestly felt bad for matt having to deal with you and you can only hope you're not ruining his experience.

the sound of somebody stepping up onto the padded area of the benches has you snapping out of your daydreaming, looking up at the source to see matt hobbling towards you - the padding affecting his skate blades.

matt was coming from filming some interview content with david like you had previously done - now taking a seat beside you on the bench before you'd both have to practice the routine. matt sits close enough to you that his arm bumps yours, but he doesn't seem to mind the closeness - making no effort to move away from you, keeping your limbs pressed together.

"good job today." you smile gently towards him, but it doesn't meet your eyes. quickly, you turn your attention back towards the rink - john beecher's laugh a nice distraction.

matt smiles politely even though you're not looking at him, "thanks - you too."

you shoot him a questioning glance, but there's a ghost of a smile on your face - his little quip getting to you. it makes matt beam, eyes trained on you even as david zooms over to take some behind the scenes pictures of you both - he's gone before you even have a chance to pose.

you find the ice, instinctively thinking about your ex once again. you're almost angry at yourself for doing so - you took this opportunity to try and heal and get over the heartbreak back in boston. and matt was so nice yesterday, already providing you with a comfortable distraction in your healing journey.

matt nudges his skate covered foot against yours, pulling you out from another moment of daydreaming. "you trying to steal some teaching techniques from shay or something?"

"what?"

"you keep zoning out over there." he laughs gently, his elbow nudging into you in one last attempt to get you to crack.

you laugh, but it's definitely forced - shaking your head as you try and clear your summersault of thoughts.

matt sighs, eyes dancing over your dull expression. "sorry if this comes across weird, but...are you okay?"

you shoot him a glance. "what do you mean?"

he shrugs, "I don't know you just look off - sorry if that's too harsh. it's just��yesterday you looked much more, I don't know, happier? or maybe more hyper? sorry if i'm overstepping, just thought I'd be a decent human being and ask." matt seems to nervously run a hand over his flowing hair, awkwardly tugging his jersey away from his neck as he rambles. "i've noticed something all day and I just thought...I don't know."

you frown gently. you've never been one who could easily control your emotions and they are always easily depicted on your face. today was no exception, and matt has clearly caught it. although you weren't planning on getting into your lingering heartache, you owed it to your partner to at least give him something. besides, matt noticing something was up with you based solely on your body language and waiting until you weren't in front of cameras to ask about it....was rather sweet and considerate of him.

matt continues to apologize to you, his eyes frantically searching your face for any notable signs of discomfort.

you press further into his side to gather his attention, doing your best at sending him a playful smirk. "hey if i'm not allowed to excessively apologize without a reason - neither are you."

your teasing has matt breathing a sigh of relief, but his brows still are drawn together in question. "so i'm not overstepping?"

you shake your head. "you being perspective and asking me if i'm okay is not overstepping."

his brows change, shooting up in suprise. "so you're not okay is what you're telling me?"

you sigh gently, "just...having a hard time recently. nothing that deep, truly. stupid stuff."

on cue, your cell phone resting in your lap lights up with a notification, and like clockwork both you and matt look down at the glowing device. the notification isn't even the problem - just some stupid twitter notification about sydney sweeney and her new movie.

"is that your boyfriend?" matt asks you gently.

he's referring to your lockscreen picture - one that contains you and your ex laying together on the beach. matt had seen the lockscreen photo that you still hadn't had the heart to change - too attached to the memories of what once was. that was the problem.

"no, sorry - he's," you pause, debating if you're really about to tell matt - a guy you're just really getting to know - about your sad excuse of an ex. "he's my ex-boyfriend."

you can practically see the gears turning in his head, his eyes darting around your face to further take in your expression. matt puts all the clues together, humming gently. "is that why you're upset?"

for a brief moment you continue to debate about what to say. telling an nhl player about your ex wasn't exactly what you were expecting to do today, but you also don't really have any sort of outlet for your feelings. back home you sort of don't have any friends - your best friend ashley had moved to ohio for school a year ago and you had your family, but even they could be dismissive and non understanding about your heartbreak. you think matt may just be the next best thing.

"yeah," you finally sigh, "he broke up with me only a couple weeks ago."

"i'm sorry," matt says immediately, eyeing you softly. "what happened - if that's okay to ask?"

"well," you laugh breathily, your disbelief clear in your tone. "he decided that after two years he didn't love me anymore - and based on his story last night…he's already moved on. i'm not even upset that he's moving on, it just hurts to see you know?" you're weren't really expecting to spew all that, but matt doesn't seem to mind as he nods thoughtfully.

"yeah," he agrees, "similar thing happened with my ex, so in some capacity I can understand how you're feeling." he pauses, eyeing the ice once again. you find yourself following suit, watching as shay shows john how to properly do his spread eagles. "you're pretty badass for dealing with my gangly limbs and whining all while being heartbroken- if I was in your spot I probably wouldn't of come."

"that's why i'm here, actually," you laugh thoughtfully, "I thought it would be a nice distraction from all that bullshit going on at home. teaching you how to skate and making new memories. plus, you don't whine as much as I thought you would've." glancing back towards him, you see that he's already looking down at you - a smile tugging at his lips at your teasing.

"really? glad to hear i'm a good student then."

you squint at him, "well I didn't say you are good."

the sound of your further teasing has matt cackling, his head tilting back as he takes in your comment. you giggle gently, already feeling the slightest bit lighter.

"oh okay, I see how it is!" he smirks, "well, my dearest teacher is there anything I can do to improve my grade?"

you're glad that matt has taken well to your teasing, and has even continued to further your lighthearted back and forth - a pleasant conversation to help distract you from your rather tiring day. the combination of a rough night without much sleep and practically exercising all day has you left feeling exhausted.

you tap your chin in a faux thought, lips pursing outwards as you hum, "maybe if you can teach me how to throw a left hook i'll bump your mark up."

"oh so you're only here to brush up on your fighting techniques," he pauses with a hearty laugh, "I see how it is!"

you shrug unapologetically, crossing your skate covered feet over.

"do you watch hockey?" matt hums after a moment. you frown at his rather unprompted question, and you watch him quizzically - his large body bent as he re-ties his skates. you don't say anything at first, so he looks back at you over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. "I'm only asking because you seem like you knew that I fight - I won't like...banish you if you're not a rangers fan."

you laugh. "sort of," you pause, taking a thoughtful breath. "my brother and my dad - who I live with back in boston, well, they're big bruins fans -" matt makes a disgruntled face out of habit, which has you stifling a giggle. you continue, "i've heard your name before because you fight - my brother likes you."

matt nods understandably. "what's your brothers name?"

"gavin - he just turned 10." a pang of homesickness hits you, and you really wish that your family was in new york with you, exploring the city and watching you teach.

matt smiles gently, "I'll have to meet him one day."

"he'd like that." you say instantly - not even thinking about what that would mean. how that would include matt rempe being with you in boston, or how it would be you and gavin visiting him in new york. "what about you, any siblings?"

"sisters," his face lights up, "steph and alley. they stay in calgary with my mom."

"they must be really proud of you." you hum truthfully, resting your chin on your shoulder as you smile up at him.

his smile widens, clearly very close with his mom and sisters. "they are - but i've honestly never seen them more excited about me skating, than they've been knowing you're teaching me figure skating." he laughs.

"are you telling your family about me?" you squawk with joy, eyes glimmering with playfulness.

before he has a chance to respond, the sound of demi's high pitched voice is interrupting - and it has you looking away from matt's face and back towards the rink. demi is looking at dawson with impatience, her tone coming across very short and irritated. poor dawson, you think, he must be dying inside. although you're not sure if you were any better than that today, remembering your rough start.

thankfully the devils forward just smiles and nods understandably- and you can only hope demi's temper comes across as a staged dynamic between the two of them: bossy and forgiving.

beside you, matt leans in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he whispers. "looks like I definitely ended up with the best skater." you meet his eyes curiously, and that has matt subtly gesturing towards demi, brows raised in disbelief as her impatience has now turned into obvious flirtation. you're glad matt thinks you're more tolerable than demi.

you snap your hand up towards your mouth in an attempt to cover and stifle your giggle. both of you watch as dawson tries to attempt a cantilever after demi's poor demonstration, and you can't help the roll of your eyes as demi immediately begins reprimanding him.

although her teaching skills were anything but good, you can tell that dawson also wasn't really trying and wasn't as loose with his movements - in fact, it kind of looks like dawson doesn't want to be there at all.

you turn your head into the side of matt's arm, directing your whispers into him so your voice has no chance of carrying throughout the arena. "seems like I got the best nhl player."

matt smirks once you pull away, and he bumps his shoulder with yours. "obviously."

you scrunch your nose, "even if he is a goon."

matt's head snaps towards you, a look of shock combined with amusement on his face. "hey!" he scolds with a laugh.

matt doesn't have an opportunity to tease you further, words interrupted when shay and john make their way towards the bench, both of them looking tired after their skating session and interviews. regardless, they are both smiling and chatting cheerily as they sit down beside you.

shay is instantly bringing a ray of sunshine with her, happily greeting you and instantly chatting and giggling to you about some crazy thing she heard demi tell another one of the skaters regarding something matt doesn't quite pick up on.

he's too busy noticing how shay's presence seems to be one of the last puzzles pieces in helping you feel better and look more relaxed. your eyes continue to widen and sparkle as you laugh, and how you don't seem to venture off into daydream land while listening to john and shay animatedly go over how john almost ate shit during a glide. it's all very sweet. matt barley knows you and already he doesn't want to see you feel anything but happiness.

without any deliberation, matt grabs your phone from your lap quickly, a smirk on his face once he sees your shocked face. he opens the camera icon, bringing your phone upwards so it is capturing all four of you on the bench. you don't get a chance to scold him before matt gets their attention. "hey guys, let's get a picture."

"oh yeah," beecher smirks, bumping into shay - which sends her body sliding into yours, and like a butterfly affect sends you into matt's side, tightly tucked into him. "everyone try to look happy and not exhausted." beecher playfully adds.

shay playfully rolls her dark eyes - clearly used to johns personality already. to further his point, john holds two fingers up behind shay's head, giving her faux bunny ears for the camera. shay leans into further your side, her head on your shoulder as she blows a kiss - while you choose to wrap your hands around matt's building forearm, practically hugging his limb as he snaps the picture.

later when you're back in your hotel room - there are three things that take you by somewhat of a surprise. the first being two instagram follows from john beecher and matt rempe - you follow both back immediately.

the second is your brother linking you a tiktok.

it's a clip of you and matt from a distance, clearly filmed by david - the two of you were whispering to one another and giggling, and it was captioned 'plotting'. your brother had texted his excitement about you getting partnered with matt rempe - which had you smiling.

the surprising part wasn't even the tiktok, it was how at ease you looked in his presence. you almost can't fathom it, because it's not just about looking at ease but you were at ease around matt. you want to try and deny it, but you can't - whatever you're beginning to feel in his presence is undeniable.

you knaw at your lip, going into your camera roll to find the photo matt had taken of you all a few hours ago - four smiling faces starring back at you. you all look happy and like you want to be with one another - unlike the picture of you and your ex on your lockscreen. you sigh gently, but there's a gentle, content smile on your face. you make the new picture your wallpaper, replacing your ex for good.

— Day Three

you knock three times against the large wooden door of the quick home, softly to not seem too eager but loud enough so you'd be heard.

you sigh gently, adjusting the bag against your shoulder so it sits comfortably. you can't believe you're actually here - waiting for matt rempe to let you inside jonathan quick's home. this morning when you woke up, you had an instagram message from matt - some corny text that pretty much asked for your number. which, obviously had your stomach swooping and as you gave it to him.

spending the past few days with matt has been really...pleasant. although you've literally known him for only three days- the amount of time spent together makes that feel like it's been years. you're pleasantly surprised with how nice, funny and adaptable matt has been with you. thinking back to before you met matt, you can't even fathom how silly you had felt leading up to everything- the nerves you had been battling regarding the week now seem ridiculous. and you hate to sound like demi, but matt's face is certainly a bonus to everything else - you also hate how that thought is beginning to make you feel.

you had spent a good amount of time today choreographing the mini routine with matt during your lesson. you wanted to make sure matt had a say in what was happening so that way you could ensure he was capable and comfortable with the routine. it all seemed to be going very well, and matt had seemed to really have a grasp of the routine.

so tonight when he texted you asking for some more help and practice - going as far to invite you to the quick's house where he'd be living for the upcoming season - you had been slightly confused. it wasn't like today was your only day for practicing the routine as all the skaters and respective nhlers had two hours tomorrow morning before needing to preform - that way it was fresh in their mind. so you'd been a bit unsure of why he wanted to have you come over tonight when tomorrow you could provide any clarity and help he was seeking.

regardless of those thoughts, you drive over to the house...ready to help matt practice your figure skating routine in a nhl superstars living room - yeah, what is your life right now. through all the disbelief and curiosity of the situation though, you did want to succeed in your partnership and win the kids votes with your routine, so you're happy matt was serious about it all.

the door clicks open, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter quickly. the idea of spending extra time with matt have the little bugs increasing in speed, sending your skin through joyful vibrations. matt smirks, leaning against the doorframe. "hey."

"hi," you breathe, adjusting your hoodie as you do so. matt looks so comfortable, clad in a black henley top and team branded athletic shorts- showing of the muscles he's put on during the offseason. suddenly you feel a bit sloppy - not even bothering to take your hair down from its scraggly bun before coming over. you chuckle awkwardly, "you called for me?"

your poor attempt at a posh accent lands, and matt's laughter is warm, filling your chest with its own hot feelings as he chuckles about your joke. "I did - wanna come in?"

you nod. matt opens the door wider, gesturing for you to make your way into the large foyer. immediately you feel out of place, the grand entryway practically the size of your living room and kitchen combined back home. it's almost completely silent inside, saved from the youtube playing quietly in another room. "this is really nice." you breathe out, kicking off your shoes beside the welcome rug.

matt huffs in laughter - a sound that's become way too familiar. from behind you, matt grabs the strap of your bag, his long fingers brushing your shoulder as he slips it off your arm. "I know right - i'm very lucky."

brushing off matt's touch on your shoulder, you laugh once, blindly following matt as he moves through the large space - presumably leading you towards one of what you assume is many living spaces.

"and who would've thought i'd also be getting lucky" you attempted joke quickly turns your face hot, the realization of what just come from your mouth has you feeling embarrassed. you slow in your steps, covering your burning cheeks with your hands. "wait, that came out wrong."

matt laughs over his shoulder, shooting you a playful glance. "you little freak." he teases, "I never would've thought the sweet, innocent looking girl who I first saw across the room in the meeting room would be such a little perv."

his obvious teasing and taunting smirk had you groaning with further embarrassment, dragging your feet as you make your way in his direction. "matt i'm literally dying here - throw me a bone at least."

matt's brows raise with surprise, and his laughter increases - like he's in disbelief. then, it hits you, another accidental sexual innuendo burning your face to an impossible shade of red. your mouth parts at a loss for words, and your eyes close to further your shocked state. "i'm just going to leave."

matt reaches out to you and he grabs your wrist gently, dragging you through the last bit of remaining space between you. the feeling of his touch has your eyes snapping open, you once parted lips snapping closed quickly. you stare up at him with softness and a little bit of shock- now closer than you ever could have imagined.

his bottom lips juts out - all wet and pouty as he slowly blinks down at you. "don't leave - I need you here."

you swallow nervously and automatically your breathing quickens in space. matt's words are sitting heavy in your ears and millions of thoughts about his soft confession swirl around your head. softly, you question his words. "you need me here?"

matt's pout transforms into a gentle smirk and his eyes squint at you questionably. you can see the teasing comment brewing from a mile away. "yeah because I want to go over our routine - get your mind out of the gutter, y/n."

"oh my god." you sigh, your eyes rolling playfully as matt begins to giggle to himself like a school boy. you shake your head in admirable disbelief, "you're such a-"

matt interrupts, "an amazing and perfect guy?"

"little shit." you correct, quirking a brow upwards in his direction.

"whatever you say ma'am," matt sing songs, his grip on your wrist tightening ever so slightly, guiding you in the direction of the living room - babbling how if you keep making unnecessary sexual comments he'll never get to learning the routine properly.

all you can do is hide your growing smile and blush while his back is turned.

matt knows the routine like the back of his hand. you show him solo once before you make him join in - and he almost perfectly execute his moves. it slightly furthers your confusion about him asking for extra help from earlier, but you brush those thoughts away. you get about 30 minutes of practice in and although neither of you are on ice skates, it's still a successful practice - matt is moving as if there was a set of blades beneath him.

it isn't long before matt is sighing dramatically, taking a break from twizzling - he just about had carpet burn on the soles of his feet from the friction. he takes a messy gulp of water, the sound of plastic crinkling echoing through the empty house. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, "okay i'm beat - I gotta save the rest of my energy for tomorrow."

you laugh softly, quirking your head as you eye him. "I think you've got enough energy built up to last for the rest of your life."

"yeah yeah," he dismisses your teasing remark with a smile, hand waving you off. "wanna watch a movie or something?"

you eye him, "a movie?"

he nods, completely unfazed by your doubtful tone. "yeah - ever heard of one?"

you ignore his blatant teasing, your eyes flickering towards the large rustic clock hanging above the kitchen nook - directly across from the large family room. "are you sure?" you question, wide eyes darting between the time and matt's awaiting face, "it's almost 8...I don't want to intrude."

matt scoffs gently, like he was disgusted that you'd even think that. his lips tug upwards in a soft smile, spinning his water bottle between two fingers like a basketball would. the sight of him toying with the plastic bottle is a momentary distraction, and you find yourself watching his long fingers like a weirdo. "I like spending time with you - so yes im sure."

matt's words have you looking away from his hands, and you find his soft stare even more distraction than his fingers.

oh.

"you do?" you question meekly, gently fiddling with your hoodie once again. your nerves are growing once again, but this time they're purely because of matt and his borderline romantic confessions. that combined with his eye contact, and constant teasing smile have you feeling rather giddy.

he nods like it should be obvious to you and then he just starts to just walk away - gesturing for you to follow him with a simple nod of the head over his large shoulder.

you're not sure what you were expecting from matt's bedroom, but you don't think it was what you were seeing. it was just so...homey. it's in the basement of the quick house - which was obviously a ridiculously nice and expensive looking spare room.

the room has clearly had a woman's touch, with elegant decor and furniture, but matt had definitely made his mark around the space. his laundry is spread out on the floor near the hamper - not in it and there are a couple miscellaneous knickknacks on top of his bedside table and the tall dresser in the corner.

he's got a pair of wireless beat headphone's hanging off the corner of a picture frame - an image of him and his mom staring back at you. his bed is made, but it's still messy with a throw blanket pulled astray near the top of the bed and pillows squished together - looking like that's where he'd been lounging before you got here.

there's a few hockey sticks sitting up against the closet door and -

"are you going to come join me over here or am I just going to pick the movie all by myself?" matt's annoying teasing question has your eyes falling in his direction. you blush at how entranced you had been by his bedroom - reminding yourself of a 13 year old girl who is in her crushes space for the first time.

to further his point, matt pats the empty side of the bed, beckoning you over with the hand that wasn't holding his remote. in your snooping daze, you'd completely disregarded matt getting comfortable in his bed and turning on the tv -further illuminating the room.

"i'm not a dog," you giggle, making your way over to him despite your attempt at sounding annoyed. you climb into his rather large collection of blankets, burritoing yourself between them. your limbs immediately thank you as they finally have a chance for relief. "and if you think i'm letting you pick a movie you're certainly wrong."

matt gets himself into a more comfortable position, resting his head on his arm as he scrolls through the options on netflix. he turns his head towards you leisurely, and the pillows puff at the movement. "and why's that?"

you shrug gently, eyes meeting his. "you'd probably pick like...slapshot or something that I don't want to watch."

he laughs softly. "and your pick would be better?"

immediately, you hum with confidence. "absolutely it would."

his brows raise and he silently challenges your claim. "okay and what movie would that be?"

naturally, your eyes flat back towards the tv screen - the small collection of movies matt had stopped on mid scrolling staring back at you. there's nothing that initially catches your eye, but right at the end of the list there's one film that nobody could resist.

"pitch perfect," you state, looking back towards matt. his eyes are still on you and his face expression is soft. you clear your throat gently, and your eyes flicker. "not only is it actually funny, but it's a unique story with friendship and romance - there is truly nothing better. it's probably my favourite." you weren't lying, it was one of your favourite movies. something about the film had always held such a special place in your heart, and you couldn't never ignore it when you saw it.

matt could tell you were passionate about the movie franchise based solely on the way your eyes flickered as you talked. he's seen that look on you before - anytime you laughed at his jokes or when you were skating it made an appearance. matt shrugs nonchalantly and clicks the play button. "i've never seen it."

your eyes widen with surprise, "really? matt oh my god." the lighting from the movie's opening scene is shining on you, illuminating both of your flushed faces in the dim bedroom. "well thank god I saw it on there."

"thank god," matt mimics you teasingly. "now quiet down i'm trying to watch the movie."

you laugh into the pillow you'd stolen earlier, trying your best to focus on the movie playing and not matt's side profile - but it proves to be rather difficult.

unfortunately, it's not long before your eyes start fluttering, the long day catching up to you. soon enough, you feel them properly close and you're not strong enough to fight off the much needed sleep.

matt feels a gentle pressure on his shoulder, and he finds that your head has gravitated towards him in your sleep. the sight of your rosy cheeks and puffy lips have him smiling fondly, doing his best at staying still to ensure you would be well rested for tomorrow - he'd make sure to wake you in the morning with plenty of time for you to get ready.

slowly, his eyes flicker back towards the movie that he's obviously seen many times before - he grew up with three woman in the house for gods sake. he just couldn't disappoint that sparkle in your eyes.

— Day 4

you wake up groggily at first, eyes squinting through the unfamiliar bedroom. you focus on the hockey sticks against the wall and feel the warmth of a body next to yours and soon you come to - finally recalling your whereabouts.

you sit up quickly. "oh my god I fell asleep." you sigh, hands panic searching through the blankets in a desperate search to find your phone. in your peripheral, matt hold's out your phone - and you don't miss the teasing look he gives you with it.

"I was just about to wake you up - wasn't going to let you be late." matt mumbles sleepily. he shoves your phone into your hoodie pocket before you have a chance to take it from his hand.

you jump out of bed hurriedly, fixing your disheveled messy bun as you do. his comforting words fall on deaf ears, and you feel panicked. you can feel your heart reaching and the adrenaline pumping through your body. "i've got to shower and then I have to make sure i've got my preforming clothes ready - oh gosh, I also was supposed to text shay and help her go over a move for her routine and-"

"hey," matt says gently, gently taking ahold of your biceps - grounding you. you didn't even notice him get out of bed, as you were too busy going over the endless notes app you had curated in your head. his thumbs stroke against your skin soothingly, distracting you from your moment of anxiety. "I made sure you'd have enough time for anything like that, okay? and look I don't even need to wake you up, so you've got a few extra minutes to spare. you're okay."

you nod at his reassuring voice and for the first time since waking up in a state of confusion and panic, you feel like you can breathe properly. "okay," you smile gently, allowing a much needed exhale to escape from your heavy lungs. "i've gotta go now."

matt releases his comforting hold on your arms, shuffling backwards a few steps to give you some space. although you definitely weren't opposed to his presence so close, you now didn't have to crank your neck upwards to look at him properly. "okay," matt responds, running a hand through his sleep disheveled hair.

"thank you!" the relief you feel in that moment is like nothing else, and you finally let yourself smile properly. although, you still feel rushed thinking about everything you needed to do in the next two hours. you're just thankful matt was planning on waking you with enough time to spare. you're overcome with gratitude for matt's kind gestures spanning over the last 24 hours and you can't help yourself from showing it. quickly, you dart up on the tips of your toes, placing your hands on matt's thick chest for balance as you reach up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

matt's eyes widen with surprise, and an amused smile tugging at his mouth at your action. he looks down at you softly, but you don't catch it, too rushed in gathering yourself and heading out. "i'll see you later!"

you're out of the quick's house faster than your feet can handle, and you make it to your rental car parked in the long oval driveway in record time.

it's not until your driving away, gracie abrams voice soothing you over the radio as you turn onto the road does your brain catch up to your own actions. your mouth falls in shock.

you had kissed matt. on the cheek granted, but still. you curse yourself, holding a hand to your forehead to try and calm your rapid heart and burning skin.

nervously, you knaw on your thumb - nibbling on the skin around your nail bed until it becomes uncomfortable. the metallic taste on your lips is a momentary distraction from your own frantic brain. you can't stop thinking about matt - more specifically, the kiss you had smacked onto his cheek as the sun was rising.

your mind is reeling thinking about what he is making of your random burst of affection. is he weird out or uncomfortable by the kiss? did he care? did he not want to preform with you anymore? does he regret inviting you over last night?

it doesn't help that you're at the practice arena and matt hasn't shown up yet. all the other partners had been on time, and all of the skaters and respective nhl stars were already going over their routines. not you though - you waited nervously in the musky scented hallway, still tearing away at your thumb as you watched the doors.

you think that matt must be upset with you. he was late because the kiss had put him off and he was procrastinating spending time with you. your lips release your thumb and immediately you run the hand over your freshly styled hair, feeling yourself become somewhat emotional as you begin to pace the hall.

just as think to call it quits, pack up your stuff and just go home, the door swings open. matt walks in looking slightly breathless, eyes heavy as he searches the area. he spots you rather quickly and begins to make his way over, an unreadable look on his soft features.

immediately, you start to apologize. "i'm so sorry matt! I shouldn't have kissed you - it was so rude and unprofessional of me! I can understand if you're mad at me or want a new partner." you ring your hands out nervously, eyes not once straying from his face - desperately trying to get an insight on his expression.

matt's eyebrows pull tightly towards the centre of his face, and he shakes his head confused. "what? i'm not mad at you."

you swallow, "you're not?" matt shakes his head no, and a small smile begins tugging at the one corner of his mouth.

still feeling confused and worried, you find yourself frowning, "then how come you were late?"

"am I late?" he questions curiosity, not intending to receive an answer. matt doesn't make an effort to actually check the time or anything, and he only shrugs with nonchalance- his always playful smirk growing. "I stopped at a coffee shop - do want decaf or regular?"

you blink. "what?"

he laughs once. matt puts the takeout tray down on one of the benches lining the hallway corridors, slipping the two drinks out from their respective holes. you hadn't even noticed matt had been carrying coffees until just now - when he walked in, you were too damn anxious to focus on anything. he lifts the two cups closer to you, "decaf coffee or regular coffee? I don't have a preference so i'm fine with either."

"decaf," you finally mumble. matt smiles, passing you the local cafes branded paper cup. you eye the lid, fiddling with the opening flap as you try and and attempt to collect your own scrambled thoughts. "so you're not weirded out?"

matt swallows his mouthful of coffee, "by what?"

you laugh once, tone full of disbelief. "I kissed you."

his brows raise, "yeah you did."

"i'm sorry I don't understand what's happening right now." you sort of laugh out - the confusion of the whole situation coming to a head. you press your hand to your forehead, looking towards matt through your lashes as you try and gauge his unreadable facial expression. you're not so much worried about him being angry with you now, because clearly that's not the case. he seems really casual about the whole thing, which has your stomach flipping.

"right now," matt takes a step towards you, practically pressing himself against you with his frame. his tongue slips out, wetting his bottom lip as he stares down at you. "we are having some coffee before heading out to practice our figure skating. we are also briefly discussing how you jumped me this morning and attacked me with a kiss."

his teasing and exaggerated explanation immediately has you feeling much lighter about the situation- your earlier panic dissolving. you gently scoff at him, and you can't think of anything else besides flicking him in the chest - a small punch of retaliation. "matt seriously I was panicked thinking I fucked this up."

he laughs gently, a shake of his head following suit. "no," his words are like a whisper, a gentle tone that kisses the skin of your face as he speaks. there's a twinkle in his eye, one that comes anytime he wants to push your buttons. "i'm used to your pervy antics by now." with his free hand, matt reaches towards you and fluffs your hair around, covering your face as he does.

you screech, the sound quickly forming into a giggle as you try and swat him away. it proves to be a difficult task without your vision and the use of both hands - your decaf cup still clutched tightly, liquid sloshing around as you squirm.

matt's laughter subsides and he slows to a pause - his free hand gently brushing any strayed curled hair back into its proper place. your vision is back, no longer impaired by the strands of your hair.

he swallows gently and you can feel his fingers tickling along your hairline. matt tucks some final strands comfortably behind your ear, fingers grazing the shell. your previous smile slowly fades as you watch him and his eyes that are solely focused on you. matt's hand doesn't leave the side of your face, fingers cradling your over cheek and against your ear.

you have never been so entranced by anybody like the way you are with matt. for god sakes, you've only known the guy less than a week, but there was something about him that felt so much like home - a safe space for you and your heart. it was almost scary how quickly you find yourself beginning to heal because of a man you barley know. but that's just it, you think, it feels like you've known him a lifetime.

"let's get to practicing," matt says reluctantly, pulling away from your body after stroking your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. the cool air of the arena replaced his warm embrace and you shiver gently. he places down his coffee cup beside the tray he'd earlier left on the bench, "I can see duclair's routine and it looks too good - we gotta beat him."

you breathe out with laughter, placing your cup beside matt's almost full one. "let's not forget the reason we are just starting practice is because you were late." you begin to walk with matt towards the rink, the icy scent filling your nostrils.

matt scoffs, "yeah because I got you a coffee." he steps onto the ice, immediately twirling so he's facing you. wordlessly, he helps you step out onto the ice, grabbing your hand.

"bribery will get you nowhere."

he snorts, "okay you better remember that when you try and plant another kiss on me-"

you yelp, hand coming up to cover matt's mouth before he can continue.

matt had absolutely blown you away. he nailed the mini figure skating routine, which not only made you feel good about your teaching abilities but also had you feeling proud of matt - his hard work and commitment to learning something new was admirable.

the feeling of finishing the routine was amazing in itself - but when matt had smiled brightly down at you before wrapping his thick arms around your waist in a hug, spinning you around (the perfect twizzle may you add) was just even more incredible. you don't even find yourself caring how the affection might look in the eyes of the camera or the thousands of fans who will be watching. you’re too happy with everything to worry.

once all the routines have been preformed, the little league team had decided that demi and dawson were the winners. although you were slightly disappointed with loosing, you heard some of the boys giggling about how 'hot' demi was and how cool it was that dawson knew jack hughes - so you weren't too concerned about your routine being lacklustre: the win wasn't decided on skill.

so although the kids didn’t declare you and matt the champions - matt's lingering touches and sweet grin had you feeling like a winner.

— Day 5

"we are not naming him rempire state building."

you pout at matt's statement and your arms tighten further around the gigantic duck plushie. "please - I love that name."

"it's not even a name." matt challenges, his laughter like a sweet melody over the rambunctious sounds of bells and coasters. he continues, "it's just my last name added onto a famous skyscraper."

you tut your tongue, "and that's just it - your last name." cradling the duck closer to your face, you rub the fluffy fur along your soft jawline. matt gives you an unimpressed look, but the smirk pulling at his lips contradicts his stare.

the wind picks up slightly, and a cool breeze comes - slipping between carnival booths and rides and sending a chill over your exposed skin. shivering, you hug the duck plushie closer, attempting to warm yourself up.

the goosebumps on your skin have you wishing you’d brought some kind of jacket. that has you thinking back to only a few hours ago, when matt texted you.

matt rempe

hey, beecher and drysdale wanted to take you, shay and emilia out to the carnival tonight for your last night in new york!

matt rempe

also as like a huge thank you for putting up with our annoying asses for the past week

matt rempe

please say yes to me or ill cry

y/n y/l/n

big baby

y/n y/l/n

i'd love to go to the carnival with you

matt rempe

i'll pick you up in 30

matt rempe

and bring a jacket, it's supposed to get cold

obviously, you forgot a jacket. the wind continues its gnarly sweep, and the summer night temperature drop has you thinking of fall weather. you subconsciously seak human warmth and you shuffle in close, tucking yourself into matt's side.

matt chuckles knowingly at your shivering. he picks out some of the fluffy cotton candy he'd be keeping in his hoodie pocket - letting the sticky desert melt on his tongue. "I told you to bring a jacket."

"I forgot." you're pouting again, tucking your face into the duck.

matt swallows the treat in his mouth, and his steps decrease in speed as he comes to a slow stop. wordlessly, he pulls off his black sweatshirt, and he holds it out to you. "here."

"I don't want you to be cold." you say timidly, your eyes darting between the article of clothing and matt’s expectant eyes.

"I don't want you to be cold," he laughs softly, furthering his gesture. "give me perv so you can put the hoodie on."

you eye him. the real reason matt didn't want to name your beloved stuffed duck that he'd won at one of the balloon popping games rempire state building was because he wanted to name it perv. immediately you expressed your disagreement- you were not naming the cute stuffed duck perv.

regardless, you hand him the duck in exchange for the article of clothing. the cool summer air has you further feeling chilled and you don't waste anymore time. you pull on the sweatshirt, and immediately your enveloped by the lingering body heat and smell of matt. "thanks."

he smiles, passing back the stuffed animal which you immediately begin hugging tightly once again. matt reaches into the pocket of now your hoodie, pulling out the bag of cotton candy so he can further snack as you begin to start walk along again.

"I think you should rethink the name perv," he pitches between chewing, his arm brushes against your shoulder as you both leisurely stroll the fairgrounds. "it's cute."

"it's not cute," you squawk, "it's quite literally perverted." reaching towards him, you reach into the plastic bag and rip off some of the blue cotton candy. plopping it on your tongue, your fingers become sticky as it melts, and you suck the crystallized candy clean off.

matt watches hazily and he swallowing thickly. clearing his throat, his eyes find the crowd infront of him once again, distracting himself with the busy grounds. "you're no fun." he says after a pause, and he side eyes you playfully with a smirk on his face. "just wanted to name it after you."

you laugh loudly and steal some more cotton candy from the mixed bag. "that makes it worse! why you insist on calling me perv is way beyond me."

suddenly, beecher throws his arm around your shoulders, coming up behind you with shay hot on his heels. it scares you momentarily, but you have no chance to scold him as john starts steering you towards the other side of the carnival grounds. "we're all doing that."

to accentuate his words, he points towards the neon lights of the laser tag sign. it lights up the dusk fallen fair - hues of green, blue, and red covering your body as john guides you towards the pop-up.

"oh god," shay all but whines from behind you, her feet dragging. "I suck at laser tag." she states once you’re all standing at the end of the lineup, her dark lips forming into a pout.

john's arm leaves your shoulders so he can turn towards shay - presumably to pester her about her lack of enthusiasm.

matt pulls on the pocket of your (his) sweatshirt, tugging you towards him and eliminating the little bit of space that was between you. you hold your breath with anticipation, letting matt practically manhandle you as he tucks you into his torso. he looks down at you with a playful expression, "you've played laser tag before?"

matt’s possessive handling from just moments ago has your adrenaline running and you’re not sure if you can form a coherent sentence. you shake your head no, glancing up towards matt through your dark lashes. clearing your throat, you ask, "is it hard?"

he smirks, "you'll be fine."

you're definitely not fine. you’ve since discovered that laser tag is not your forte, and to make it worse, matt got put on the opposite team with shay, emilia and jamie. you had beecher on your team, but he was no help. you haven't seen him since the beginning of the game when he started to run away from you - shouting about he had the perfect snipping spot.

the laser tag gun is heavier than you expected, and you keep having to dodge acne prone teenagers who have their sights set on targeting you.

the light up vest you have to wear is hurting your shoulders, the rough material rubbing against your skin uncomfortably with every move you take. the neon signs are providing the only light source in the space, and you keep have to squint to get a proper look at your surroundings.

for what feels like the hundredth time, you peek around the corner you've been hiding behind, trying to look through the shadows to make sure the coast is clear. you want to at least make it to the other side of the course before the game ended. a shadow dashes by, quick on their feet. you hold your breath, trying to stay still to not get caught. just when you think you're in the clear, the silhouette turns to you and darts behind your corner.

the lighting above adjusts, flashing a dark blue. you continue to hold your breath with anticipation and prepare for the stranger to shoot your target and eliminate you. the light moves over their face, and you can finally see them properly. instantly, you breathe out with relief.

matt's smirk makes your stomach feel warm as he looks down at you, his laser gun hanging loosely at his side. "how's it going?" he asks playfully. matt reaches towards your vest, teasingly tugging on the arm opening.

you huff with exhaustion and let the gun you’d be dripping for dear life fall to your side. "I haven't gotten a single target because i've been too scared to move - I don't think i've left this corner in 10 minutes. and these kids from your team, by the way, keep trying to find me."

matt chuckles lowly, his teeth igniting underneath the blacklight above. "I know - they keep talking about trying to get out the 'hottie'" he air quotes with his fingers, mimicking their words.

you pull an uncomfortable face, and a strangled whine passes through your lips, your eyes closing with a combination of embarrassment and annoyance. "i'm toast."

the sounds of running shoes stomping on the ground and children's laughter grows louder, signalling that they were getting closer to your hiding spot. your eyes widen.

quickly, matt wraps an arm around the dip of your waist and he pulls you against his chest. he spins you both around so that you're pressed further against the wall, deeper in the corner. you're both completely enveloped in darkness, and you can only make out the silhouette of matt’s features.

your mouth opens, but your words immediately dir on your tongue. quietly, matt shushes you with a playful quirk to an eyebrow, the top of his index finger brushing along your bottom lip to further his point.

all you can muster is a slow nod in response, as you’re too overwhelmed by the feeling of matt all over you to form any words. the way his strong chest flush was against your breasts, and his hips pushing against the pudgy part of your stomach. matt's arm is still tightly nestled around your waist, and he makes no move to change that.

you can only hope that he can't feel your rapid heartbeat or staggered breathing - the nerves you was currently experiencing were just downright embarrassing.

"this may be a bad time," matt's voice is barley audible over the sound of the post malone song playing over the speakers and the distant sounds of people laughing and talking. "but you smell really good."

you tilt your head farther back to and properly look at him. your chin practically presses to his chest as you do, reminding you of just how tall he is. "what?" you whisper meekly in question.

"all I can smell is your shampoo," a faint smirk appears at the corner of matt's mouth. "I can't help it, your head is right under my nose."

you were adorably struck, a little smile beginning to grow on your lips. "so what you're trying to say is you've been sniffing me?"

he huffs out a laugh, "no - it's just a strong scent."

you swallow gently, blinking slowly. between you bodies, your hand begins to tingle with numbness, and you slowly maneuver it out- pressing your palm flat shading matt’s stomach. you fight the urge to clutch the material of his soft shirt in your hands - wanting to grasp as much of him as you could.

matt jerks slightly, and his eyes meet yours through the dark. his adam apple moves as he swallows thickly, and you can feel his fingers flex around the softness of your waist.

you breath quickens, and you drop the laser gun to the ground. matt doesn’t flinch at the sounds, his eyes never leaving your face. now with your hand free, you let it slide along the side of matt’s torso, slowly tickling him with your nails. you need him in every way possible. you need his laughter, and his teasing smiles, and his touch, and you desperately need his kiss.

you lick your lips slowly, your tongue making sure all creases are moistened. “matt,” you whisper with vulnerability. this time, you don’t fight your own urges, and you let your fingers take whole of his shirt, keeping him pressed to you. “being with you is healing my heart.”

a genuine smile takes over matt’s face - not one of his slay playful or teasing smiles, but a real one. his eyes hold admiration, darting between your face as if he can’t decide which feature of yours to look at. at some point, he must have also abandoned his gun - the hand he was using to hold it now reaching towards your face. matt holds your cheek tenderly, thumb pushing some hair off your face and holding it to your ear.

“I see her!” the shrill voice of a pre-teen yells out from behind some faux rock structure.

matt pulls away quickly and bends down to grab his laser gun. it has you blinking hard, shaking your head to try and clear the fog that had clouded there within the last few minutes. your skin is on fire, and your aching all over. thoughts of matt now feel impossible to not have.

you lean down to grab your own abandoned gun. as you stand back up, you’re met with the familiar teasing eyes of matt, and he’s borderline laughing to himself. he’s got his laser gun pointed at you, the stream of red light directly hitting your target.

"matt," you warn, "don't even think about it." although you’re pleading, you can help the giggling that falls from your mouth along with your words. you can’t even form the thought of shooting him first, too wrapped up in the attention of right now.

matt cocks his head playfully, "think about what?" he questions you brightly, gun still aiming directly at your glowing vest.

you take off, running back out into the main area of the course. you can feel matt hot on your heels, and the adrenaline of it all has you shrieking in laughter as you try and escape him.

usually after such an intense moment with somebody, you were unable to shake off the shaking feelings and tension that came with it. but with matt, you’re immediately moving forward. the comfortability you’re experiencing with him is something you’d never believed in. honestly, you never really though friendship could exist in romantic interests.

if their was anything you learned from you ex, it was that relationships were meant for sex, lying, and deception. now you know that’s not what a relationship means and having trust, fun, and friendship is the only kind of relationship foundation you deserved.

— Three Weeks Later

opening your email to find a thank you from the nhl social admin team a week after arriving home was a nice surprise. the mass email was inviting you and the other figure skaters to an all expenses paid trip to new york, where you'd get to watch the rangers home opener.

the way your stomach flipped at the thought of seeing matt again was so sensational. you weren't aware that it was possible for you to miss somebody as much as you did him.

the morning after the arcade, matt has insisted on driving you to the train station after he helped you return the rental car. he didn’t want you to pay for an uber, and frankly you didn’t feel like it either. the goodbye hurt you, and you remember your throat feeling scratchy with emotions while he hugged you. matt had pulled back, momentarily eyeing your soft lips….and then the train started to board and you had to leave matt and new york behind.

your chest clenches at the thought, but instead of pain that had been tugging at your heart- it was beating for a whole knew reason.

you accepted the trip offer immediately and you were already planning on what you’d wear to your first ever hockey game - nothing to do with wanting to look your best for your crush…totally not.

briefly, you think about texting matt to tell him about the trip you’d be making, but you ultimately hesitate. you don't want to affect his play or focus in the rangers home opener. if all he can think about is you watching in the crowd, it could negatively impact his game. long story short, you’d hate to be the reason he feels overwhelmed.

you had texted shay soon after responding to the email invite, and she had excitedly told you she’d be making the way down from pittsburgh to be there. thankfully, shay was up to date on your ongoing feelings for matt, so the together the two of you brainstormed over text, ways to suprise matt.

your stomach was spinning with excitement for the remainder of weeks before you’d be with matt again.

—

hockey games were turning out to be more fun than you initially expected. the fans around you were all so enthusiastic and cheerful that you couldn’t help but join in. shay and you had been chanting and jumping for three whole periods. anytime the rangers scored the building became electric, and you understood why the players would thrive off that feeling.

like planned, with only 5 minutes remaining in the third and final period of the game, rangers leading 6-2, you opened the camera on your cell phone. first, you and shay smiled brightly for a picture, both of you wearing your blue and red rangers memorabilia. the second picture was the ice, capturing the players zipping around from 15 rows up the stands.

y/n y/l/n

*attached: two images

hey I think shay and I got lost? can you

help us identify this arena ??

the period ends soon after, and you and shay wait a few minutes for the majority of the crowd to disperse. then, using your passes gifted from the nhl social administration team, you both make your way towards the players tunnels.

your phone buzzes.

matt rempe

what?

matt rempe

are you seriously here?

instantly, you’re smiling and the butterflies fluttering around your belly increase by thousands. you lean back against the cool wall to keep yourself from buckling forward - knees going weak with anticipation.

y/n y/l/n

come out of the locker room and find out

a couple of long, antagonizing minutes pass before you see matt. he walks out of the locker room, appearing from behind the grand new york rangers branded doors. his eyes dart through the cluster of his teammates, their families and staff collected in the waiting area - eyes frantically searching for you.

like gravity, your eyes finally lock. instantly, your mouth morphs into a smile, and you push off the stone wall so that you're once again standing upright. you pocket your cellphone in your jeans back pocket, and your cheeks burn with warmth.

matt pushes his way through the crowd, apologies tumbling off his lips quickly as he rushes through the room to try and get to you.

shay mentions something about seeing you back at the hotel room, but you can’t even fathom her words. as matt gets closer to you, you can feel your body spin with excitement - it's all so different from anything you've felt before. it’s refreshing and feels just so right.

finally, matt gets through everyone and he finally reaches you. instantly, he grabs ahold of your flushed cheeks with his large hands. the smell of arena shower soap fills your senses, and your grin triples in size. the scent is so familiar- so matt.

he doesn't say anything to you, but he does lean down and connects your lips together. it feels so right. it feels like he’s the puzzle piece you’d been missing, or the feeling you’d get when you’d find your airpods after months of looking everywhere - kissing matt feels like decaf coffee and the rush of figure skating and the most beautiful song lyrics.

you didn't know kissing could be so pleasant. the way matt's lips caress yours and skillfully slip along yours have you melting into a sticky puddle.

you sigh into his mouth, and your own hands reach out to touch him. they slip into the opening of his his suit jacket, resting on the sides of his strong torso.

matt’s back is bent forward in a way that's borderline uncomfortable, and soon his upper back will start to burn from the strain - but matt didn't care. he had missed you so much…more than he's ever missed anybody in his entire life. the feeling was so unbelievably foreign to him, but he never wanted it to go away - never wanted you to go away.

your lips separate for a second, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath. you chest is heaving along with matt’s but that doesn’t stop him for almost immediately leaning back in - pressing two more much softer kisses to your glistening lips.

one of his teammates whistle teasingly in the room, but you can't even hear it - the only sounds in your ears is the pumping of your own blood, and matt’s breathy groans against you.

he pulls away and a slow, flirtatious smirk crawls its way across matt's flushed face. his thumbs gently run along the indent of your cheekbones, a soothing feeling contrasting your frantic heart. "I should've done that the moment I met you." he breathes the confession.

your laughter was a familiar and welcoming melody, dancing through the crowded room and filling matt's chest with joy. "that would've been ridiculous, matt." you tell him honestly, hugging his torso and resting your chin on his chest.

"yeah," he agrees with a playful gleam, "but that's how long i've been meaning to do it. I haven't stopped thinking about since the moment I saw you in the meeting room last month. when you left on that train, I thought I was going to fall to my knees in agony.”

his dramatics have you rolling your eyes, but you’re grinning nonetheless. “you’re such a-“

“little shit?” matt interrupts knowingly.

you shake your head, “charmer.”

the air between you turns thick once again. matt leans back down towards you, and he captures your mouth in another breath stealing kiss.

he pulls back an inch, eyes still closed as he rests his forehead against yours. “can I confess something really charming?”

you giggle. “oh god, what is it?”

“I don’t even like coffee - only bought two that day so you’d have options.” he smirks playfully.

“little shit.”

matt blows a raspberry to the space between your neck and shoulder, erupting a shriek from you as you try to escape his tickling lips.

you'd make the long distance work - you'd both work together to make your new connection work from different cities. although, you think it can't be too difficult. if you can manage to fall for a stranger with a broken heart, just imagine how much you can accomplish with a healed one.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe fic #matt rempe fanfic #new york rangers #new york rangers imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey

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ranfrenglazer · 21 days ago

Text

Columbine - The Story

(Please reblog and like it took hours.)

Here I will inform you about the Columbine Shooting that occurred in 1999, April 20th. TW: suicide, theft, guns, and violence. by: ♡ danielle k. 🖇

Early Lives

Eric H. :

Eric David Harris was born on April 9, 1981, in Wichita, Kansas. Harris's parents were both born and raised in Colorado. His mother, Katherine Ann Poole, was a homemaker. His father, Wayne Harris, was working in the United States Air Force as a transport pilot. In 1983, the family moved to Dayton, Ohio, when Harris was two years old. Six years later, the family relocated to Oscoda, Michigan. Michigan pastor William Stone lived across the street from the Harris family while they were located in Oscoda. Stone recalled them as "great neighbors" and often saw Wayne very engaged with his sons. The Harris family then moved to Plattsburgh, New York, in 1991. During his time at Stafford Middle School, Harris played Little League Baseball, regularly went to birthday parties and was "part of the crowd". Kyle Ross, a former classmate of Harris, said, "He was just a typical kid." The Harris family finally settled back in Littleton, Colorado the next year when Wayne retired from the military.

On a 1997 English class assignment, Harris wrote about how difficult the move was from New York to Colorado. "It was the hardest moving from Plattsburgh. I have the most memories from there", Harris continued. "When I left (his friends) I felt alone, lost and even agitated that I had spent so much time with them and now I have to go because of something I can't stop." Harris, in a basement tape, blamed his father for moving the family around, forcing Harris to "start out at the bottom of the ladder." Harris had a chest deformity known as pectus excavatum, in which the breastbone sinks into the chest. This made Harris reluctant to take his shirt off in gym class as other students ridiculed him. Harris had two cosmetic surgeries at age 12 and 13 to repair the deformity. The sunken chest was still mildly observable during his autopsy.

The Harris family lived in rented accommodations for the first three years that they lived in the Littleton area. While Harris was in 7th grade, he met Klebold. In 1996, the Harris family purchased and settled at a house south of Columbine High School. Harris's older brother, Kevin, attended college at the University of Colorado. Harris's father took a job with Flight Safety Services Corporation and Harris's mother became a caterer.

Harris entered Columbine High School in 1995 as a freshman. Columbine had just gone through a major renovation and expansion. From all accounts, he had many friends and was left forward and mid-field on the Columbine soccer team for his freshman and sophomore year. Josh Swanson, one of his teammates, said that Harris was a "solid" soccer player who enjoyed the sport a lot. During his freshman year, Harris met Tiffany Typher. They had German class together. Typher later recounted that Harris quickly wooed her. Harris asked her to homecoming and she accepted. After the event, it appeared that Typher was no longer interested in seeing Harris anymore, for reasons never disclosed. When Typher refused to socialize with Harris again, Harris staged a fake suicide, sprawling on the ground with fake blood splashed all over him. When Typher saw him on the ground, she began to scream for help, at which point Harris and his friends began laughing, prompting Typher to storm off, shouting at Harris to get psychological help.

Dylan K. :

Dylan Bennet Klebold was born on September 11, 1981, in Lakewood, Colorado, to Thomas and Sue Klebold. On the day after the shooting, Klebold's mother remembered that shortly after Klebold's birth, she described what felt like a shadow cast over her, warning her that this child would bring her great sorrow. "I think I still make of it what I did at that time. It was a passing feeling that went over very quickly, like a shadow." Sue said in an interview with Colorado Public Radio. Klebold was soon diagnosed with pyloric stenosis, a condition in which the opening between the stomach and small intestines thickens, causing severe vomiting during the first few months of life.

Klebold's parents had met when they were both studying art at Ohio State University. After they both graduated, they married in 1971, with their first child, Byron, being born in 1978. Thomas had initially worked as a sculptor, but then moved over to engineering to be more financially stable. Sue had worked in assistance services with disabled children. Furthermore, Klebold's parents were pacifists and attended a Lutheran church with their children. Both Klebold and his older brother attended confirmation classes in accordance with the Lutheran tradition. As had been the case with his older brother, Klebold was named after a renowned poet, Dylan Thomas. Klebold attended Normandy Elementary School for first and second grade and then transferred to Governor's Ranch Elementary School where he was part of the Challenging High Intellectual Potential Students program for gifted children. According to reports, Klebold was exceptionally bright as a young child, although he appeared somewhat sheltered in elementary school. When he transitioned to Ken Caryl Middle School, he found it difficult. Fellow classmates recalled Klebold being painfully shy and quiet, often to an uncomfortable degree. Klebold's parents were unconcerned with the fact that Klebold found the changing of schools uneasy, as they assumed it was just regular behavior among young adolescents. At the family home, the Klebolds also observed some rituals in keeping with Klebold's maternal great-grandfather's Jewish heritage.

During his earlier school years, Klebold played baseball, soccer and T-ball. Klebold was in Cub Scouts with friend Brooks Brown, whom he was friends with since the first grade. Brown lived near the house Harris's parents had bought when they finally settled in Littleton, and rode the same bus as Harris. Shortly after, Klebold had met Harris and the pair quickly became best friends. Later, Harris introduced Klebold to his friend Nathan Dykeman, who also attended their middle school, and they all became a tight-knit group of friends.

Their Personalities

Both Harris and Klebold worked together as cooks at a Blackjack Pizza, a mile south from Columbine High School. Harris was eventually promoted to shift leader. He and his group of friends were interested in computers, and were enrolled in a bowling class.

Eric H. :

Some described Harris as charismatic, and others described him as nice and likable. Harris also often bragged about his ability to deceive others, once stating in a tape that he could make anyone believe anything. By his junior year, Harris was also known to be quick to anger, and threatened people with bombs. Classmates also related that Harris was fascinated by war, and wrote out violent fantasies about killing people he did not like.

Dylan K. :

Klebold was described by his peers and adults as painfully shy. Klebold often was fidgety whenever someone new talked to him, rarely opening up to people. Klebold was also exceptionally nervous in front of women. In the last year of his life, many noted a change in Klebold's behavior. Unlike before, Klebold became short-tempered, often prone to sudden outbursts of anger.

Dylan & Eric's Friendship

Much of the information on Harris and Klebold's friendship is unknown, on their interactions and conversations, aside from the Basement Tapes, of which only transcripts have been released, aside from a short audio clip recorded surreptitiously by a victim's father. The pair claimed they were going to make copies of the tapes to send to news stations, but never did so. Harris and Klebold met at Ken Caryl Middle School during their seventh grade year. Over time, they became increasingly close, hanging out by often going out bowling, carpooling and playing the video game Doom over a private server connected to their personal computers. By their junior year of high school, the boys were described as inseparable. Chad Laughlin, a close friend of Harris and Klebold, said that they always sat alone together at lunch and often kept to themselves.

A rumor eventually started that Harris and Klebold were gay and romantically involved, due to the time the pair spent together. It is unknown if they were aware of this rumor. Judy Brown believed Harris was more emotionally dependent on Klebold, who was more liked by the broader student population. In his journals, however, Klebold wrote that he felt that he was not accepted or loved by anyone. Due to these feelings, Klebold possibly sought validation from Harris. Klebold's mother believes Harris's rage, intermingled with Klebold's self-destructive personality, caused the boys to feed off of each other and enter in what eventually became an unhealthy friendship.

Columbine High School

At Columbine High School, Harris and Klebold were active in school play productions, operated video productions and became computer assistants, maintaining the school's computer server. According to early accounts of the shooting, they were very unpopular students and targets of bullying. While sources do support accounts of bullying specifically directed toward Harris and Klebold, accounts of them being outcasts have been reported to be false, since both of them had a close knit group of friends.

Harris and Klebold were initially reported to be members of a clique that was called the "Trenchcoat Mafia", despite later confirmation that the pair had no connection to the group and furthermore did not appear in the group's photo in Columbine High's 1998 yearbook. Harris's father erroneously stated that his son was "a member of what they call the Trenchcoat Mafia" in a 9-1-1 call he made on the day of the shooting. Klebold attended the high school prom three days before the shootings with a classmate named Robyn Anderson.

Harris and Klebold linked their personal computers on a network and played video games over the Internet. Harris created a set of levels for the game Doom, which later became known as the "Harris levels". The levels are downloadable over the internet through Doom WADs. Harris had a web presence under the handle "REB" (short for Rebel, a nod to the nickname of Columbine High's sports teams) and other online aliases, including "Rebldomakr", "Rebdoomer", and "Rebdomine". Klebold went by the names "VoDKa" and "VoDkA", after the alcoholic beverage. Harris had various websites that hosted Doom and Quake files, as well as team information for those with whom he gamed online. The sites openly espoused hatred for people in their neighborhood and the world in general. When the pair began experimenting with pipe bombs, they posted results of the explosions on the websites. The website was shut down by America Online after the shootings and was preserved for the FBI.

Crime Activity

On the night of January 30, 1998, Harris and Klebold broke into a locked van to steal computers and other electronic equipment. A short while after a Jefferson County sheriff's officer drove upon the two boys parked further down road at another park entrance and since the park area was closed by that time of night, the arresting deputy decided to further inspect them. The deputy announced his presence as one of the boys prepared to move the stolen goods into the trunk of the car. Harris shortly after admitted to theft after the deputy asked about where the equipment came from. They were later charged with mischief, breaking and entering, trespassing, and theft. They both left good impressions on juvenile officers, who offered to expunge their criminal records if they agreed to attend a diversionary program which included community service and psychiatric treatment. Harris was required to attend anger management classes where, again, he made a favorable impression. The boys' probation officer discharged them from the program a few months ahead of schedule for good behavior. Regarding Harris, it was remarked that he was "a very bright individual who is likely to succeed in life", while Klebold was said to be intelligent, but "needs to understand that hard work is part of fulfilling a dream."

Several months later on April 30, Harris handed over the first version of a letter of apology he wrote to the owner of the van, which he completed the next month. In the letter, Harris expressed regret about his actions; however, in one of his journal entries dated April 12, he wrote: "Isn't america supposed to be the land of the free? how come, If im free, I cant deprive some fucking dumbshit from his possessions If he leaves them sitting in the front seat of his fucking van in plain sight in the middle of fucking nowhere on a fri-fucking-day night? Natural selection. Fucker should be shot. [sic]".

Hitmen for Hire

When an economics class had Harris make an ad for a business, he and Klebold made a video called Hitmen for Hire on December 8, 1998, which was released in February 2004. It depicts them as part of the Trench Coat Mafia, a clique in the school who wore black trench coats, extorting money for protecting preps from bullies. They were apparently not a part of the Trench Coat Mafia, but were friends with some of its members. They wore black trench coats on the day of the massacre, and the video seemed a kind of dress rehearsal, showing them walking the halls of the school, and shooting bullies outside with fake guns.

Both also displayed themes of violence in their creative writing projects; of a Doom-based story written by Harris on January 17, 1999, Harris's teacher said: "Yours is a unique approach and your writing works in a gruesome way — good details and mood setting."

How they acquired Guns

Harris and Klebold were unable to legally purchase firearms due to their both being underage at the time. Klebold then enlisted Robyn Anderson, an 18-year-old Columbine student and old friend of Klebold's, to make a straw purchase of two shotguns and a Hi-Point carbine for the pair. In exchange for her cooperation with the investigation that followed the shootings, no charges were filed against Anderson. After illegally acquiring the weapons, Klebold sawed off his Savage 311-D 12-gauge double-barrel shotgun, shortening the overall length to approximately 23 inches (580 mm). Meanwhile, Harris's Savage-Springfield 12-gauge pump shotgun was sawn off to around 26 inches (660 mm).

The shooters also possessed a TEC-DC9 semi-automatic handgun, which had a long history. The manufacturer of the TEC-DC9 first sold it to Miami-based Navegar Incorporated. It was then sold to Zander's Sporting Goods in Baldwin, Illinois, in 1994. The gun was later sold to a firearms dealer, Larry Russell, in Thornton, Colorado. In violation of federal law, Russell failed to keep records of the sale, yet he determined that the purchaser of the gun was twenty-one years of age or older. Two men, Mark Manes and Philip Duran, were convicted of supplying weapons to the two.

The bombs used by the pair varied and were crudely made from carbon dioxide canisters, galvanized pipe, and metal propane tanks. The Co2 and pipe bombs were primed with matches placed at one end end their fuses. Both had striker tips on their sleeves. When they rubbed against the bomb, the match head lit the fuse. The weekend before the shootings, Harris and Klebold had purchased propane tanks and other supplies from a hardware store for a few hundred dollars. Several residents of the area claimed to have heard glass breaking and buzzing sounds from the Harris family's garage, which later was concluded to indicate they were constructing pipe bombs.

More complex bombs, such as the one that detonated on the corner of South Wadsworth Boulevard and Ken Caryl Avenue, had timers. The two largest bombs built were found in the school cafeteria and were made from small propane tanks. Only one of these bombs went off, only partially detonating. It was estimated that if any of the bombs placed in the cafeteria had detonated properly, the blast could have caused extensive structural damage to the school and would have resulted in hundreds of casualties.

The Massacre

Eric Harris (Left), Dylan Klebold (right)

On April 20, 1999, just weeks before Harris and Klebold were both due to graduate, Brooks Brown, who was smoking a cigarette outside during lunch break, saw Harris arrive at school. Brown had severed his friendship with Harris a year earlier after Harris had thrown a chunk of ice at his car windshield. Brown reconciled with Harris just prior to the shooting. Brown approached Harris near his car and scolded him for skipping his morning classes, because Harris was always serious about schoolwork and being on time. Harris replied, "It doesn't matter anymore." Harris followed up a few seconds later, "Brooks, I like you now. Get out of here. Go home." Brown, who felt uneasy, quickly left the school grounds. At 11:19 am, he heard the first gunshots after he had walked some distance away from the school, and informed the police via a neighbor's cell phone.

By that time, Klebold had already arrived at the school in a separate car, and the two boys left two duffel bags, each containing a 20-pound propane bomb, inside the cafeteria. Their original plans indicated that when these bombs detonated, Harris and Klebold would be waiting at their cars and would shoot, stab and throw bombs at survivors of the initial explosion as they ran out of the school. At noon, this would be followed by bombs set up in their personal cars detonating, killing first responders and others on scene. When these devices failed to detonate, Harris and Klebold resorted to gunning down their classmates and teachers. It was the deadliest high school shooting in U.S history until it was surpassed by the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting committed by Nikolas Cruz on February 14, 2018. Harris was responsible for eight of the thirteen confirmed deaths (Rachel Scott, Daniel Rohrbough, teacher Dave Sanders, Steve Curnow, Cassie Bernall, Isaiah Shoels, Kelly Fleming, and Daniel Mauser), while Klebold was responsible for the remaining five (Kyle Velasquez, Matthew Kechter, Lauren Townsend, John Tomlin, and Corey DePooter). There were 24 injured (21 of them by the shooters), most in critical condition.

Their Suicides (R.I.P, me fr.)

At 12:02 pm, Harris and Klebold returned to the library. Of the 56 library hostages, 34 remained unharmed, all of whom escaped after Harris and Klebold left the library initially. Investigators later found that Harris and Klebold had enough ammunition to have killed them all. This was 20 minutes after their lethal shooting spree had ended, leaving 12 students dead, one teacher dying, and another 24 students and staff injured. Ten of their victims had been killed in the library. It is believed they came back to the library to watch their car bombs detonate, which had been set up to explode at noon. This did not happen, as the aforementioned bombs failed. Harris and Klebold went to the west windows and opened fire on the police outside. No one was injured in the exchange. Between three and six minutes later, they walked to the bookshelves near a table where Patrick Ireland lay badly wounded and coming in and out of consciousness. Student Lisa Kreutz, injured in the earlier library attack, was also in the room, unable to move.

By 12:08 pm, Harris and Klebold had killed themselves. In a subsequent interview, Kreutz recalled hearing a comment such as, "You in the library", around this time. Harris sat down with his back to a bookshelf and fired his shotgun through the roof of his mouth; Klebold went down on his knees and shot himself in the left temple with his TEC-9. An article by The Rocky Mountain News stated that Patti Nielson overheard them shout "One! Two! Three!" in unison, just before a loud boom. Nielson said that she had never spoken with either of the writers of the article, and evidence suggests otherwise. Just before shooting himself, Klebold lit a Molotov cocktail on a nearby table, underneath which Ireland was lying, which caused the tabletop to momentarily catch fire. Underneath the scorched film of material was a piece of Harris's brain matter, suggesting Harris had shot himself by this point.

The End ♡ By Danielle, hope this is information that can be useful !!

#school shooters #tcc columbine #teeceecee #tccblr #true cringe community #columbine edit #columbine 1999 #tc community #tcc tumblr #tcc fandom #unsolved #dylan columbine #columbine massacre #columbine school shooting #eric columbine #eric and dylan #rachel joy scott

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hungermakesmonsters · 30 days ago

Text

The Red Ribbon

Chapter Three

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : I lied, this is definitely going to need 4 chapters. Also... sorry not sorry...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

Master List

Chapter Three

You felt like something had been taken from you, cruelly snatched away, and you felt its loss so acutely that the pain manifested itself as a physical ache in your chest. You felt bereft, like he’d reached into your chest, scooped out your heart with his bare hands and left a gaping hole in its place.

And that empty feeling had only grown with every step you took away from the ice rink. From him.

How and why you’d allowed yourself to care so much about a masked man, a fiction you’d only met twice, you didn’t know, but the loss of that idealised fantasy had an uncharacteristic rage simmering inside you.

How dare he.

How dare he do that to you.

How dare he make you feel something for him.

He’d almost made you -

- what?

As quick as the rage had started to burn inside you, it fizzled out and you deflated. You were blowing things out of proportion, assigning blame to things that were no one's fault. You’d told him yourself that it wasn’t real, so why were you now allowing yourself to grieve its loss as if it was?

You’d demanded that your mask stayed in place while he’d been the one to want to end the charade and turn it into something terrifyingly real.

It wasn’t some deliberate action of a spiteful man, he hadn’t done it to hurt you. He’d done it to know you.

Ultimately, you’d pretended and played make-belief just as much as he had, and you only had yourself to blame for the results.

Cold wind stung your eyes as you blinked back tears all the way back to your apartment. You hated that you knew and wished that you could turn back time and unsee it all. Ignorance had been bliss and, now, every memory of him felt tainted and wrong. Part of you even started to wonder if you could ignore it, pretend that you didn’t know, so you could have just one more night in his arms, seeing him smile and hearing his laugh.

But that was impossible. There was no pretending, no getting over the awkward knotting in your stomach when you remembered every sharp word and irritated look that he’d shot you while working at Anvil.

Still, you couldn’t help but grieve the loss of connection as you curled up in bed, hating that it was him or all people who’d managed to make you feel so happy, so wanted.

For the longest time you avoided the obvious question, not wanting to even think about it.

Why had he been at the ice rink in the first place?

It was simple; he’d been looking for you.

No, he’d been looking for Bunny.

He’d tried to find Bunny, despite everything you’d told him about your connection having an expiry date and everything you’d said to maintain a professional distance from him. He’d gone looking for you in the real world - why? Because he wanted something real.

You replayed it all, over and over, wondering how you’d been so blind and hating yourself for not being more careful. You weren’t supposed to feel any of it, you weren’t supposed to feel anything at all for him. He was a customer - a customer you’d only dealt with twice at that.

You felt like a stupid teenager mourning a crush but, no matter how you tried to rationalise it, there was no stopping the ache in your chest.

Even now, knowing who he really was beneath the mask, you felt something.

What, exactly, you weren’t sure, but if felt it could have become something more, something special.

And now it was gone.

As you choked back awkward sobs, you found yourself stuck on another infuriating question; which version of Billy was the real one? Was he the man who didn’t seem to care if he hurt your feelings, or was the man who’d been concerned for your wellbeing when he found out that you’d changed your limits at The Red Ribbon?

Eventually, you finally managed to fall into a fitful and restless sleep, that left you feeling exhausted when your alarm woke you a few hours later.

You had to force yourself to get out of bed and face the day, not knowing how you were going to deal with seeing him again.

But Mr Russo was nowhere to be seen when you reached your desk on the top floor of the Anvil building. The light in his office was on but, even after you’d been sitting at your desk for over an hour, you still hadn’t seen him.

The longer you sat, the worse you felt. Your mind started to race, imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios where he’d figured out that you were Bunny, and how he was just waiting for the perfect moment to humiliate and fire you.

More than once you started to draft a resignation email, wanting to beat him to the punch and be out of there until whatever cruel revenge he had planned started to unfold. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hit send, feeling sick at knowing just how much you needed the money.

Eventually, the waiting became too much to bear and you decided to take the initiative, leaving your desk and going to get him his morning coffee, not wanting to risk being yelled at for not following his usual schedule. When you got back from Starbucks, he was still holed up in his office and it didn’t seem like he’d left.

You knocked on his door, lightly at first and, when that didn’t get a response, again a little louder.

You expect to hear some barked and exasperated order, instead you got something else entirely.

“What?”

It was soft, barely audible, so much so that when you started to open the door, you half-expected to be screamed at for just barging in.

At the sight of him, you faltered, almost tripping over your own feet but managing to save yourself at the last second; he was sitting with his elbows braced on the desk and his head in his hands. Something swelled inside you, some feeling that you knew that you shouldn’t be having, something wrong given the circumstance. Something of Bunny bleeding into your real life and making you ache for the man in front of you.

“Mr Russo?” You asked softly, your voice trembling, scared you might give yourself away with just those two little words and the concern they carried.

And when he looked up - fuck, you wondered how you’d never noticed how tired he always looked, like he was carring the weight of the world on his shoulders. Seeing him made you think of every other time you’d seen him looking exhausted and drained, but had chosen to ignore it because he was being an asshole to you. But you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Not when you knew there was a softer side to him lurking just beneath the surface.

“Yes?” He asked, his tone betraying him even more than his appearance.

For a few seconds all you could do was stare at him, looking into those dark and tired eyes, searching for a flicker of recognition. And there was nothing.

He still had no idea that you were Bunny.

It took a few moments to remember the coffee cup that was gripped tightly in your hand (the same hand that, less than forty-eight hours ago, had been wrapped around his cock, pulling the sweetest moans from his lips).

“I - I have your morning coffee,” you said, managing to swallow the lump in your throat as you stepped forwards.

The tired look of confusion on his face had your gaze dropping to his desk, feeling like you were seeing too much, seeing things he didn’t want to share. His desk was in the same state as he was; messy. As you placed the cup down, you scanned the papers strewn across the desk; financial documents and mission reports, some highlighted, others plastered with post-its and scrawled handwriting.

And, when you stepped back, you noticed the thin blanket draped over the sofa in the corner of the office.

He’d slept there.

Or, not slept there, as the dark circles under his eyes seemed to suggest.

“Thank you,” he muttered, dispondantly, barely raising his eyes to look at you.

You took another step back, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you. You knew that you weren’t supposed to see him like this, obviously struggling with something, while you held some secret knowledge over him. It felt like an invasion of his privacy, an even greater breach of his trust.

“Is -” you started, then hesitated, “- is everything okay, Mr Russo?”

As he finally looked up, you found yourself flinching, bracing for some cutting remark about minding your own damn business or I don’t pay you to ask questions, but it never came.

“Everything’s fine.”

And that was that.

Billy Russo might have been a lot of things - very confusing things - but a world-class liar, he was not.

His attention dropped back to his desk, not even bothering to reach for the fresh, hot coffee in front of him, and you found yourself lingering, not wanting to leave. Actually, you wanted to move closer, wanting to wrap your arms around him and hold him.

At that moment, you didn’t see Billy Russo, your boss, you saw Tall, Dark and Handsome, the man who’d made you feel seen, the man who’d made you laugh. You saw a man who needed comfort, and it made your heart ache that you couldn’t give him it.

“You can take the rest of the day,” he said when he realised you were still standing there, assuming that you were waiting for him to give you some work to do. “I won’t be needing you today.”

“But it’s only 10:30 -” you started to protest, not wanting to be sent away.

“I said I won’t be needing you.”

Even that sounded hollow, like he couldn’t muster his usual sharpness. He didn’t even look at you as you, finally, started to move back towards the door.

“Yes, Mr Russo,” you answered, making sure to softly close his office door behind you.

You grabbed your things quickly, your mind racing as you left the building. He’d never sent you home early before - hell, most days you were lucky if he even let you finish on time. If you hadn't gone for his coffee, would he have left you at your desk all day with nothing to do?

And why had he been sleeping in his office?

As much as you found yourself flitting between hating him for being an asshole and longing for the man you knew he could be, you would have welcomed his cold and cutting tone over whatever that had been in his office.

More than once on your way home, you found yourself slowing, glancing back over your shoulder and considering returning to the office to confront him, to comfort him, to tell him everything just so you didn’t have to contend with all of the unsettling what-ifs in your head anymore. Seeing another, unknown version of him was just too much for you to handle, and you wanted desperately to find a way to make sense of it all.

For the rest of the day, you were an anxious mess. You felt like you were waiting for something to happen but you didn’t know what. Not once did your phone ring or buzz with a demanding message from him, nor did any email notifications appear.

He really didn’t need you.

The man who wouldn’t even walk across the street for his own Starbucks order most days, didn’t need you.

And, of course, that led you to darker thoughts; without you there, what was he going to do for lunch? Was he even going to eat? Should you order something for him and have it delivered should you -

Fuck.

You were left worrying about a grown man who, you assumed, could take care of himself. (But, just because he could take care of himself, didn’t mean that he was taking care of himself.)

All the conflicting feelings inside you made you feel like you couldn’t even be certain what you were feeling anymore. It made you feel sick to your stomach knowing that there was really no way out of it.

You could tell him the truth and destroy your own life, or you could continue to lie to him and struggle to deal with the tsunami of emotions he inspired inside of you, and neither option was particularly appealing.

And if you continued the lie? He’d keep coming to see you at The Red Ribbon, until you found a way of stopping him and - well, that just presented more challenges.

Lost in thought, you also lost track of time, spending the whole day fretting until it was time to have dinner and race across town to get to The Red Ribbon in time for your shift to start. You changed quickly, storing your things in your locker, stopping by the mirror to make sure you were presentable and didn’t look as awful as you felt. Then you headed to the board, hoping that you’d have something good to distract you for a few hours, a bachelor party, a large group, something.

But it was all just wishful thinking.

There, beside your name in brackets, were those two little words again; by request.

He wanted to see you again. Already.

You wanted to refuse, to come up with some excuse why you couldn’t see that customer again so Val would send someone else in your place. But you couldn’t. You knew that you had to see him again, had to finally figure out just what the fuck was going on and what you were going to do about it, even if it meant coming clean and putting an end to everything.

He deserved that much, didn’t he?

But, once he knew, you were certain he’d give up on you, he’d give up on the fiction that you’d both had a hand in creating. Then you’d lose your job at Anvil and, as much as the thought stung, the more resigned you became to it. No matter what happened tonight, you were already starting to realise that you couldn’t continue working for him.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled on your mask and tied the red ribbon around your neck, the soft fabric feeling more like a noose just waiting to tighten.

You tried to force your anxiety away, to become Bunny and exude her confidence, but the spring in your step was gone and, for the first time since starting to work at The Red Ribbon, you felt an uncomfortable and roiling nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You shrugged it off when Rocky questioned you unusually reserved demeanour, telling him that you were just feeling a little tired.

And you hated that you were having to lie to someone you considered a friend just to get through it all.

Once you were in the private room, you started to pace, doing none of your usual checks, not caring that the cushions on the sofa were askew or even making sure that the bar was stocked. You just paced, trying to ignore your racing heart and the weight on your chest, all the while rehearsing what you might say to him if you could bring yourself to come clean.

I didn’t realise it was you until after I gave you the handjob. I wouldn’t’ve flirted if I knew it was you. I didn’t do it on purpose. I know you’re disappointed that it’s me. You’re the last person I wanted to know that I work here. Of course none of it was real and, even if it was, it doesn’t mean anything now.

If you weren’t such an asshole, maybe we -

The door opened, cutting off that line of thought before it spiralled too far out of control.

You turned to face him, the first syllable of your confession dying on your lips the moment you saw the state he was in.

Even with the mask, you could see the way that exhaustion clung to his features, the dark circles beneath his eyes looking even more pronounced than they had that morning. His shirt was creased beneath his tailored suit jacket, the top button open and his tie pulled loose, causing his collar to sit awkwardly. If there was one thing you knew - one thing anyone who knew him knew - it was that Billy Russo was a man who cared about appearances, so seeing him so dishevelled had your stomach knotting with concern.

Before you could think to say anything or even step forwards, he’d cleared the distance between you and had taken your face in his hands, urging your head up so he could kiss you.

And - oh, how easy it was to lose yourself in his kiss, to lose yourself in the way that he made you feel wanted.

Your arm wrapped around his waist of its own accord, holding him against you - not that he had any intention of pulling away from you. His tongue eagerly, desperately, ran along the seam of your lips and you parted for him, giving him what he needed. A soft whimper slipped from you at the taste of his lips and tongue, helping you forget all about being anything but his Bunny for the moment.

When the kiss finally broke, he didn’t pull back or pull away, instead he buried his face against your neck and held you tighter, hiding from the world.

The seconds started to tick by and... nothing.

He just held you. Saying nothing, doing nothing.

After a couple of minutes had passed, you cautiously lifted your head and ran your fingers through the back of his hair. He shuddered against you, holding you tighter, but not moving, not speaking.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And it wasn’t the kind of wrong that you’d expected, the kind of wrong that came from him knowing the truth about you.

He was upset.

You weren’t sure why it bothered you, why it caused the knots in your stomach to pull tighter. Given the number of times he’d upset you over the last few months, you should have found some sick satisfaction in it, but there was nothing but worry and heartache to be found.

Another minute passed, tenderly stroking his hair, hoping he’d snap out of whatever was bothering him but he didn't and you were forced to take action.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, forcing yourself to speak in Bunny’s calm, reassuring voice.

He shook his head but continued to hide from you, and you quickly got the impression that he’d remain like that for the rest of the night if you let him. And, some part of you wanted to let him. If holding him was bringing him some much needed comfort, then you didn’t want to pull away.

But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing between the pair of you was that simple.

“Hey,” you tried again, “what’s going on?”

His chest shuddered as he took an awkward breath. “Everything's fucked up.”

“Everything? What's everything?” You asked, desperate to understand what was happening in front of you.

You felt him huff another breath, his arm continuing to tighten around you to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“My life... everything I’ve worked for...” he muttered despondently, “I could lose it all...”

There was a weight to his words that made your stomach coil tighter still. His life, what he’d worked for, surely that meant Anvil. And if he was faced with losing Anvil... well, that would certainly explain his behaviour around the office lately.

Again, it felt wrong, like you were learning things that you had no right to know, things he wouldn’t tell you if he knew the truth of who you were. But the way he was holding you left you feeling conflicted; he trusted Bunny with this information and wasn’t Bunny just a part of you?

“Come on,” you finally muttered, managing to pull back from him a little, “let’s sit down and have a drink, yeah?”

He looked at you, his dark eyes catching on yours and, for a split-second, you were sure you caught a spark of recognition in his eyes. Dread filled you but amounted to nothing. You pulled away finally, ushering him towards the sofa while you headed to grab him a generously sized glass of scotch from the bar, hoping that a drink might settle him a little.

All the while, you could feel his gaze on you, like he was scared you’d vanish if he dared to look away even for a second. At any other time you might have basked in the feeling but, right then, it just made you feel worse.

Forcing a gentle smile, you headed back to him, taking a seat beside him, letting your leg rest against his as you handed him the glass. But he didn’t drink, he just stared at it for a few seconds before letting another sigh slip out.

“When was the last time you slept?” You asked, remembering that you’d asked him the same thing only a couple of nights ago.

And you remembered his answer.

It had been a rough couple of months.

Months. Perhaps even longer than you’d been working for Anvil.

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally taking a small sip of scotch. “I can’t sleep. Can’t rest. It’s like... like there’s a weight on my chest, something pushing down...”

“That sounds like anxiety.”

And you should know. Out in the real world you’d always been anxious - though for the longest time you’d been told you were just shy, that you’d grow out of worrying and assuming that the very worst was about to happen, and that you’d learn to put yourself out there more. But then something bad had happened and, for the longest time, it seemed to confirm all of your worst fears about yourself.

But this moment wasn’t about you.

“Anxiety?” He repeated, huffing as he shook his head. “No, that’s - that’s not me. I used to be a Marine. A sniper for fucks sakes. We don’t get anxious.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you said softly, knowing that at least that was true, but Billy shook his head again. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe it’d help to get it off your chest?”

With every moment that passed, you were digging yourself a deeper hole, putting yourself in a position you’d never be able to escape from, saying and doing things that would only make your deception seem worse when it was finally discovered.

Regardless, in an attempt to soothe him, you placed a hand on the back of his neck and started to play with the strands of hair at his nape. Billy leaned into your touch and let his eyes fall shut for a few seconds, allowing himself to almost relax.

“I never had anything,” he said quietly. “Had to fight for everything I ever got. Joined the Marines the moment I graduated high school, fought my way up to lieutenant, left with an honourable discharge. Everything I’ve ever done, I did it on my own.”

You listened intently, not sure how his past tied into his current problems, but you wanted to know because it was him, because you wanted to know him.

“I got the idea to start my company not long after I got back to New York, but everything I’d done, it - it didn’t count for anything to the banks. No one wanted to give me a loan, and I had no family to ask for help.”

He paused to take a drink, obviously putting off the next part of the story.

“There was this... guy. I met him while I was serving in Afghanistan, and he offered to front the cash I needed. Told me he’d just be a silent partner, that I’d do all the hard work and he’d get a cut of the profit.”

As he spoke, you continued to brush your fingers over the nape of his neck, trying to get him to relax a little.

“He lied to me, he -” he gave an angry huff, “- he’s been using my company to move drugs from the Middle East to the States, and he’s been laundering the money through the company accounts. I’ve suspected it for months now, but I finally put it all together last night...”

Fuck. That explained the documents you’d seen on his desk that morning and the fact that he’d slept in his office.

“The one time in my life I let someone help and...”

You felt tension fill his body and you felt so useless, so helpless. If what he was saying was true - and, honestly, you had no reason to doubt him - then everything finally made sense. It didn’t make up for the way he’d treated you, but the stress of going through all of that had to be taking its toll on him.

“I have over a hundred people working for me,” he continued, his voice an awkward mixture of anger and something else that you couldn’t quite pin down. Pain, you supposed. “I don’t know how many of them I can even trust. And if it comes out that this has happened, they could all lose their jobs, just because I was too fucking stupid to realise what was going on right under my nose.”

You didn’t expect the worry in his voice, the genuine care he seemed to have for the people who worked for him, because it was something you’d never seen or experienced before. But you were starting to realise that maybe it was because, in the few months you’d worked for him, he’d been struggling with all of this.

“You’re not stupid,” you told him firmly.

All you got was a grunt in response before he lifted his glass to his lips and drained it in one.

“You’re not,” you told him again.

When he still didn’t respond, you took his empty glass and deposited it on the table. Then, in an act of absolute insanity, you straddled his lap and took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

Your thumbs caressed his cheeks over the stubble that lined his jaw, and you allowed yourself to slowly drown in his dark eyes. Your expression softened and your heart stuttered, finally realising the one thing you’d been desperate to ignore; you didn’t want this to end.

“You. Are. Not. Stupid.” You repeated slowly, emphatically, still holding his gaze.

While there were lots of things you could say about him - several of which you had said about him beneath your breath over the last few months - you’d sat through enough meetings with him to know that Billy Russo was anything but stupid.

“Then how did this happen?” He asked. “How did I let this happen?”

Of course, you didn’t have an answer for him, but you didn’t let him look away. Your chest ached for him, hating that this was how you were learning about what he’d been struggling with. If you’d known sooner, if he’d trusted you with it at Anvil, maybe you could have helped him shoulder the burden, maybe you would have been more understanding when he’d been an asshole to you.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, “but I can tell that this isn’t what you wanted to happen and that you would have stopped it if you’d known.”

If only because he cared about his company, about the thing he’d built from scratch.

He didn’t answer, seeming to want to slip back into silence, but you weren’t going to let him.

“Why are you here?” You asked softly. “Shouldn’t you be trying to... I dunno, fix things?”

“I’ve been trying, I’ve got a friend - a lawyer - looking into it. I just -” he sighed, “- I wanted to see you. I know it sounds crazy and I barely know you, but when I’m with you, I don’t feel like my whole life is falling apart.”

You didn’t even notice his hand move, you were too caught up in the dark depths of his eyes to realise until it was pressed between your breasts, over your racing heart. For a moment he seemed to consider the way your heart was pounding and, then, realised that he was the cause.

“I don’t know why or how, but I feel like I can trust you, Bunny. You make everything feel better...” he said, a soft almost shy confession. “Even with the mask I - I feel like you see me better than anyone...”

Your chest shuddered, lungs refusing to draw breath in case he moved his hand away.

It was so fucked up but again - and again, and again, and again - you wanted so desperately to believe him. You ached for him to want you, to trust you, even though you knew that you didn’t deserve it and that it would all fall apart the moment he found out who you were.

You needed to tell him, but everything was already too far out of control. You wanted him to know, wanting him to choose you, but you knew that it was impossible. He wanted Bunny and Bunny was only a part of you, a tiny insignificant little part.

There was no telling who closed the distance, all you knew for certain was that his lips found yours again and forced aside any thought that wasn’t wanton, selfish or carnal in nature. He’d let you see so much of himself tonight, let you see that he was even more than you ever thought he was and, greedily, you only wanted more.

“Bunny,” he groaned against your lips.

It was almost enough to undo you just hearing the desperation and need in his voice.

A soft moan spilled from your mouth and into his as his hand slipped down your body, reaching between your thighs. You tensed as you felt the fabric of your body suit and panties pulled aside, but you didn’t break from the kiss, didn’t try to stop him.

He wanted you.

In some fucked up way you managed to lie to yourself, managed to convince yourself that he didn’t think you were worthless and useless.

You were Bunny.

You could be Bunny, for him.

Fingers, still cold from holding his glass, trailed through your arousal, and you moaned again. Even if you’d wanted to, even if you’d somehow managed to come to your senses, there was no stopping it. You needed his touch more than you needed the air in your lungs.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he muttered, barely pulling back from the kiss, “you’re so wet for me already.”

Heat licked across your cheeks and down your neck and chest, knowing that he was right. And your arousal only became more obvious as he continued to touch you, using his fingers to spread your folds, fingertips teasing at your entrance before moving up to your clit. It wasn’t long before you were trembling and desperate for more.

“Please,” you murmured against his lips, needing more, needing everything.

Your back arched, needily grinding yourself against his hand as a finger breached your walls and sank into you. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, keeping you in his kiss.

You felt his lips pull into a smile against yours and it was - fuck, it was incredible to know that you’d been able to make him smile again.

He set a slow pace to begin with, despite the needy shift of your hips, taking his time with you, letting you know that he was in control. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as he continued to kiss you, and continued to steal the last of your sanity.

This shouldn’t be happening, but you didn’t want it to stop.

A second finger easily slipped into the heat of your body, causing your breath to catch and another eager moan to escape you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You weren’t sure if you imagined the words, if you were hearing what you wanted to hear in order to convince yourself that this was, somehow, real, but you kissed him more fiercely because of it.

He paid attention to every little gasp and the way your back arched every time his fingers grazed that sensitive spot inside of you, like he was learning what brought you the most pleasure. You’d never had a man take such an interest in what you needed, and it just pushed you deeper and deeper into denial, telling yourself that you could have your cake and eat it, that Billy never had to know who you really were.

You were Bunny.

You could be anything that he wanted you to be.

“Oh - fuck - god...” you whine as his fingers bent again, your lips tearing from his so you could gasp for breath.

Your head dropped back and you barely noticed his other hand pulling down the front of your body suit until he started to trail kisses down your neck and over the tops of your breasts. When you didn’t complain or make any sign you wanted him to stop, he pulled the fabric down further, revealing your lace strapless bra and popping one of your breasts from its cup.

You gripped his shoulders tighter, your knuckles aching as you held on for dear life, getting closer and closer to the edge. But you didn’t want to go over, you didn’t want the moment to end, so you fought against it, your body clamping tight around his fingers, and biting your lip as his tongue circled your nipple.

It took your last shred of sanity to keep yourself from screaming his name as you lost your battle. You came hard on his fingers, pleasure shooting up your spine, causing you to arch and press your breasts into his face - something that he seemed to appreciate.

His fingers kept moving, kept drawing out your pleasure until you were little more than a writhing mess on his lap.

Finally, you collapsed against him, pressing your face against his neck as you struggled to catch your breath, acutely aware that his fingers were still inside you and he seemed in no rush to change that fact.

“I want you,” he muttered into your ear.

Without thinking, your hand slipped between your bodies and came to rest on the prominent bulge in his pants, but you didn’t give him an answer.

It was the point of no return - if you fucked him, there would be no getting over it, no moving past what you’d done.

“Please,” he groaned, his free hand covering yours, pressing your hand against his erection, “I need you, Bunny. I want to feel you fall apart while I’m inside you.”

To make his point, he flexed the fingers that were still buried inside the heat of your body, causing you to gasp, still sensitive from your orgasm. His lips pressed against your shoulder, his teeth lightly scraping the skin, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I want to make you moan for me, Bunny.”

And, try as you might, you couldn’t fight it. You couldn’t be the decent and honest person that he deserved right then. You wanted him too much, and this would be your only chance to have him.

His hand moved a little, dragging your hand over his pants, guiding your touch so you were stroking him.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, finally lifting your head.

Before you could second guess yourself, your lips crashed against his, kissing him hungrily, telling him without words how much you wanted this, wanted him. His fingers started to move again, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.

“Tell me you want me,” he muttered against your lips.

“I want you - fuck, I want you.”

Quickly, you found yourself moved, laid out on your back beneath him, his fingers still thrusting in and out of your eager body, sending your arousal through the roof. Your own hands were awkwardly fumbling, undoing his belt and pants so you could get to his cock and finally feel him again.

His lips roamed your face and neck, seeming to worship you with every press of his lips.

He groaned as your fingers wrapped around his cock and started to stroke him, wanting to give him some small taste of the pleasure he was giving you.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

It was everything and nothing all rolled into one.

His thumb pressed against your throbbing clit as he drove his fingers into you, and it was all over.

“Mr Russo!” you cried out as you came again, your body arching and shaking beneath him, only for your pleasure to crash and burn around you when you realised what you’d done, what you’d said.

“What the fuck?”

You couldn’t tell if he was shocked, angry, or some other third thing, but you were too frozen by panic to even think about stopping him as he reached for your mask, revealing not only your face but your lies as well.

A/N : Look... I know at this point no one is going to believe me, but it genuinely wasn't my intention to end this on an even worse cliffhanger than last time 😅 because I got carried away with the angst it got so long that I couldn't finish the plot in this chapter, so the final part will be out next week (or sometime between friday and monday, depending on how my week goes). Anyway, I'm loving how much everyone seems to be enjoying this and all your comments and reblogs have been an absolute joy to read, so thank you so much. And thanks for all the get well soon messages, I'm finally feeling back to normal now (the flu is awful i s2g).

Either later tonight or sometime tomorrow I'll be putting up a poll so you can all vote on my next Billy fic, I'll also probably mention a little something about the Bucky thing I'm planning next and throw around a few other random ideas because new year, new head full of ideas I desperately need to empty out 😂

Edit : the poll is here!!!

Hope you all have a great week!

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @dreadfulxives18 @shwnirwin

@ladyblacky @spitecrow @oliviaewl @snowkestrel @theendofthematerialgworl

@super-clearlysaltybouquet @danzer8705 @benbarnesprettygurl

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #trr ff

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curseofaphrodite · 3 months ago

Text

A Very Sneezy Adventure

BUCKY BARNES X READER

summary: enemies to lovers in a domestic fluff setting?? yes.

The Winter Soldier saves the day, as well as two dozen kids! Some say even Starveil was spotted in the fight against the horrific minotaur.

"Fuck off!" you yelled at the TV screen, then turned it off.

You looked around the room in distaste. Your clothes were everywhere, there was an unnatural stench in the air, and your cat was nowhere in sight.

Turns out, being a witch didn't give you an upper hand when you were sick.

You laid back on your couch, the news reporter's words echoing in your ears. Being "spotted" in a fight against the villain that you were literally assigned to take down, only to have the spotlight taken away by your rival Bucky freakin' Barnes, did not feel good.

You knew the fight went down bad because you were sick, but you still pushed too hard. Hard enough for the Winter Soldier to come in from whatever the fuck he was previously occupied in and save your ass.

Did you atleast say thank you? No. You had barged off before he could even come over to your side.

As these thoughts trailed on, there was a knock at your door. You stood up groggily and went over to open it.

Bucky stood on the other side and you wondered if your sick brain had somehow conjured him up by fantasizing too much about punching his lights out.

"Hi?" he asked, making you slightly jump.

"Not a hallucination then." You remarked, sighing.

"Not last I checked," he smiled slightly. Smile? Was Bucky Barnes showing you pity?

"I brought you something," he continued, pulling his hand up to show a package. You didn't even need to ask him to know what it was. This was definitely pity with a capital P.

"What do you want?" you asked, sounding just as rude as you could be.

"Well, can't I come in? Things didn't go as planned back in 6th Avenue—"

"Look, if you came here to gloat, I'm not in the mood. I might magically make your mouth disappear."

"Threats already? I didn't even walk in the door." He smirked, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Look, I’m not here to fight—" He glanced around your disheveled living room. "Though it seems like you've been doing a good enough job of that with yourself."

You scoffed. "Let me guess. You want me to get on my knees and say thank you?"

Utter bafflement crossed his features as well as a tint of red that wasn't there before. "I mean… it wasn’t your best moment," he said, his tone uncertain, "but that’s not why I’m here. Stark sent me."

Tony Stark doesn't excuse mistakes. Happy's voice rang through your ears. He's a big risk taker but if the risk doesn't pay off, you're toast.

Great, been an avenger for two months and I'm already sacked.

"Come on in," you mumbled, stepping aside. He made no remark about the mess, but sat in the couch as awkwardly as he could.

"What did he want?" you asked, dreading what was coming.

"Answers," he said with a shrug. "He wanted to know how you were stumped against the very type of demons that you specialize to know about. Asked me if you even know mythical creatures or were those just lies."

You gasped.

"That's not the end — he thought you might even be a double-agent."

Your gasp came shrill this time. "Double agent for who? Medusa? Does he think there's a secret lair of mythical unicorns planning to overtake New York?"

"If there is, he certainly thought you had the brains to be its head, so I would take it as a compliment."

You were openly glaring when you sat opposite him. "Well, I wouldn't. Greek gods have Olympus. I doubt they'd want the trash can that is New York."

He smirked. "That sounds like what I said."

"You stuck up for me?"

"I was surprised to be helpful too, don't worry."

"What 'help' did you do if he didn't believe it?"

"Who said he didn't?"

You opened your arms and waved around as if it was obvious. "You wouldn't be here if he did."

"Oh." Realization dawned on his face. "No, no, he did believe me. I came here on my own accord."

"No, you said you're here because of him."

"Well, I am. He sent his wishes too. Said flowers would reach you in two business days."

You blinked. "Flowers?"

"I told him you were sick."

"How the fuck did you know I was sick— I'm not—!" you paused to sneeze. He raised an eyebrow. "Alright it's obvious now, but how did you know in the fight? Don't tell me you're that observant over my health."

"I'm not. It felt like you were staring down the minotaur for no reason instead of using your powers. I figured you were fighting back a sneeze." He laughed. You turned red, easily embarrassed.

"Great, I'm a joke among you guys now." You stood up, sighing. "If that's all, I'll show you to the door. Leave the mask at the table."

"What mask?"

You frowned. "The mask I lost at the fight, which is clearly in that package right now."

"Y/N," he began slowly. "Have you lost your mind? This is chicken soup."

There was a pause.

Only then did it occur to you that he came in to check in on you. To see if you were okay. And he bought chicken soup. You blinked three times before replying.

"I — thank you," you resigned, not wanting to be surprised more. You sat back down.

"Do you have bowls?" he asked, looking at the unfinished plates of chips in front of the TV. "Preferably clean ones?"

"It's in the kitchen," you waved to your left door.

"I'll get them," he said, standing up before you could.

A wave of headache hit you before you could even assess if this "niceness" was all a plan to secretly kill you inside your house. But before you could ponder on it properly, you had fallen asleep.

You woke up an hour later to a clean room and the smell of chicken soup. Plus a very comfortable Bucky Barnes in the midst of it all.

You realized you could get used to having someone to help.

"Why're you smiling at me?" he asked, looking up from his bowl. You immediately rearranged your face to a scowl.

"You used the fancy china! Stop snooping through my cupboards, you creep!"

"I was just trying to help—"

"Well, THANK YOU!" you said, just as angrily as before.

Bucky shrugged, then went back to watching TV. He was used to your mood swings. You got up, hoping the flutter in your stomach was just a side effect of being ill.

THE END

commissions | KOFI

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #fluff #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes #imagines #astoria writes #sebastian stan #enemies to lovers

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tencrushesperday · 9 months ago

Text

Will you go to prom with me?

matt rempe x college!student reader, friends to lovers

warnings : the fluffiest fluff to have ever fluffed for 7.5k words

an : in honor of the rangers playing their game 1 of the 2nd round, i’ve been writing this for the past week and omggggg there must be so many mistakes in it but im so happy with it it’s so cute. idk about the rangers wives and stuff so christine is obviously made up sorryyyy

How did you get so lucky ?

Matthew gave you a ticket for tonight’s game and made you promise to stay after the game to wait for him.

You have gone to see his debut at the stadium series and this was his second game so you would have gone to see him play even if he hadn’t gotten you a ticket.

The two of you met when he was first invited to the Rangers summer camp. You were having a picnic with friends in Central Park on a hot summer evening. Matt was playing football with his friends not far from you and when the ball fell near you he ran up to get it.

The first time he just excused himself then went back to his game. But the second time his friend threw the ball your way intentionally you asked him if they wanted to eat something but you weren’t going to finish all the food you brought by yourselves.

It took all your courage to ask the tall cute guy that question. Especially because he was cute. Your friends had teased you for blushing the first time he came to get his ball and to defend your dignity you had to show them he didn’t affect you that much and you could be chill around tall attractive guys.

That improvised picnic turned into an ice cream date the next afternoon as you bonded over the fact that you were both foreigners in the US. Then that turned into another museum date, and a shopping date when he asked you for help to find his sister a present.

Superficial conversation turned into long conversations deep into the night so naturally.

Yet he had never tried to kiss you. You wanted to think those dates were really dates and that he felt the same way you did. But he never expressed any further interest into you so you settled for his friendship. You knew he would leave after the training camp to go back to Calgary and you would leave too to go back home.

When he came back for the second time for the training camp, you had already left New York. He had texted you that he was in town again and asked if you wanted to go get ice cream with him. You wanted to smash your head against a wall for leaving a week too early and missing him. But he promised that he would try to go to New York before the start of the season so you could catch up together.

After that first catch up in New York, you also went to Hartford for a weekend a few times when you didn’t have too many assignments.

You surprised him once by coming to a practice and staying for his game. Some of your friends teased you that you were head over heels for him and you “really wanted to get that d” in the words of your best friend but you never made any attempt at flirting and neither did he.

However now, he played in New York, for the Rangers and you couldn’t be any prouder of him. He had texted you that he was called up to play for them for the stadium series and you told him that you already got tickets with friends to go see the match. You missed your morning class to get breakfast with him before the game and congratulate him.

So you are now waiting awkwardly by the VIP entrance because he didn’t get you a special pass since he didn’t dare ask for it and you have no idea where the locker room is in this place. You check your phone from time to time to see if Matt has texted you but you just assume that he’s still busy.

At some point, a security guard approaches you and asks what you’re waiting for. You’re about to answer him and you hear a voice answering in your stead.

“For me. She’s waiting for me. But thanks for taking care of her.” He’s always been kinda hot, but that sentence? The messy post game hair? The sweaty look and slightly tired eyes?

You thank the security guard and walk towards Matt with a big smile on your face. “Congrats on your second game and second win champ. Looks like you’re this team’s lucky charm.” You give him a hug when you reach him and he keeps his arm around your shoulder not letting you go.

“Hmm no I think it’s you. You’ve been for every win too.” He winks at you.

“When did you get this cheesy?”, you tease.

“Winning makes me emotional.”

You aww at his honest response and jokingly tickle him. But you love how he’s not afraid to show his emotions in front of you and you cherish that.

“So.. we won… Do you know what that means?”, he asks with an amused look in his eyes.

“Free and good food?”, you inquire hopefully, batting your lashes at him to go overboard with it.

“Better. Free drinks !! I wanted you to come celebrate with us. I got out the looker room as soon as I could to not make you wait and have some time to convince you. The guys are ready to go.”

“It’s a wednesday night.”

“Perfect night to go out the bars are less crowded.”

“Matt I have classes tomorrow.”

He has a resolute look on his face and you know you’ve lost the argument here. “I’ll bring you back to your dorm by midnight.”

You admit defeat by nodding your head yes and he pumps his fist in an overly exaggerated way. Then he puts his arm back around your shoulder and drags you towards the exit.

“Schneider knows a nice place not far from here apparently.”, he informs you.

“You’re new best bud?”

“I would never dream of replacing you”, he says with a funny smirk.

When you walk out of the building you’re met with huge, impressive hockey players and their beautiful significant others. You smile politely and wave your hand when Matt introduces you but nobody pays you too much attention as everybody is eager to get to drinking.

The bar you get to is nice, not too big but still pretty loud and the players overjoyed from their win only make it louder.

You sit squeezed in between Matt and one of the girlfriends. She doesn’t particularly pay you attention except when she asked you who you are and how you met Matt.

When Matt leaves to get you a drink at the bar, Chytil’s girlfriend approaches you and introduces herself.

“So have you and Matt been together for a long time ?” Luckily, the lighting is bad and she can’t see you blush at her question.

“We’re just really good friends”, you answer her after a beat.

“Oh sorry, my bad.. It’s just that usually guys don’t bring such beautiful friends to bars when they try to find other girls to hook up with”, she explains jokingly and you try not to get such thoughts into your head.

“First of all it’s so nice of you to call me pretty. And no honestly i’m really supportive of him trying to hook up with girls if he wants to. He just promised to get me back to my dorm before midnight so he’ll probably have to do that afterwards.” She laughs at your words a bit too much and you laugh awkwardly as well, confused look on your face. Until she looks behind you and you understand.

“Always knew I could count on you to be my wingwoman” You turn around at Matt’s voice, the awkward smile still on your face. “And here’s your cosmopolitan.”

“I'm not even sure you need a wingwoman now that you’re in the NHL.”

“That’s not something we are going to test tonight because i’m here to celebrate with you and not some random girl.” He grins at you.

You spend the rest of the evening dancing and drinking your cocktails with Matt acting as the best body guard to ever exist on the dance floor. It’s not often that you don’t have any weirdo trying to approach you but having a 6’7 guy built like a refrigerator definitely helps so you can enjoy the music and just dance. Maybe you should go to the club with him more often.

You don’t leave before midnight as promised. It’s closer to 1am when you bid goodbye to Chytil’s girlfriend. She asks you if she will see you around more and you promise her to attend the next game.

When you’re outside the uber is already waiting for you and you get in with Matt still talking and laughing.

He then walks you up to your door and you turn around before opening. “So now you know where I leave”

“Yes this was my plan all along now I know where to come to steal the most comfortable blankets”, he says with a smirk

“I knew you were evil. You can’t be tall, hot and ambitious without something hiding under the surface.” Did you just call him hot ? You can blame it on the alcohol even if it was only 3 cocktails.

“Obviously. Now go get some good sleep and drink a glass of water.” He turns around to leave “Good night”

You yell after him “Drink some water too big boy” you giggle to yourself and cover your mouth aware of how loud you just were.

The next morning you have a mild migraine but it hits you when you are brushing your teeth a song from last night playing on your phone.

The reason no guy approached you last night was because Matt always had his hand on you, your hand, your hip, your waist. It was just so natural to have him that close you didn’t even notice in the moment.

——

Almost a week later, as you sit on your bed, music playing on your speaker because your roommate is out, you hear a loud repeated bang on your door.

You jump out of bed, turn off the music and run to the door. “Who’s there?”, you ask warily.

“Open up the door you deaf dumbass”

“Great to see you too my sugar plum”, you stick your tongue out to Matt when opening the door.

He walks right past you into your dorm room and sets a bag on your desk. “I brought us snacks and video games.”

“You know I don’t have anything to play video games on right?”, you look at him eyebrows raised, hands on your hips.

“That's why I brought my Xbox in my backpack?” He starts unpacking his stuff and setting up his gaming corner. Luckily you had a small TV you and your roommate chipped in together to buy.

“Make yourself at home I guess… I also hope you’re aware I won’t be playing with you I have to finish this essay for tomorrow morning.”

“I know. You said that you had to finish it tonight. I just thought it would be more fun to have company. And I haven’t seen you because of the roadie.” You smile at his logic. It’s non arguable. You would rather do anything and everything with him around than without him. And you missed him too.

Once he’s done setting it up, he sits at the end of your bed and looks at you expectantly. “I won’t be noisy I promise. Now can you bring the snacks?”

You smile like an idiot again, hand him the snacks and get back to your previous position in your bed.

He takes your feet on his lap and starts his game. Without even looking your way, he pushes the bag of your favorite candies towards you.

You sight contemptuously, a small smile adorning your face. This was so comfortable. A little too cozy for you to just see him as a friend.

Around 1am, you finish your assignment and Matt is already asleep at the feet of your bed. You lightly tap his shoulder and tell him to get under the covers because it’s too late for him to go home.

Still sleepy, he takes off his hoodie and gets comfortable while you go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Then you get back to bed and try falling asleep but you are far too aware of his tall presence right next to you.

He is fast asleep when he sneaks one of his arms around you. Your bed isn’t large enough for you not to touch anyway so you decide to enjoy his warm, comforting cuddles and fall asleep much faster now that you’re not stressing over it.

When you wake up for your class in the morning, Matthew has already left for practice.

——

The game against the Devils has been brutal. You couldn’t attend but you were watching on your phone while at the library. You try to get done as much as you can before leaving the library and going to your closest 24/7 store.

You are ready to go around the whole city. You have a mission in mind and you will accomplish it : finding a Lego set (and food of course).

Luckily you only have to try two convenience stores before finding a good enough set. You also grab some snacks and head to Matt’s apartment.

You are already waiting in the lobby of his apartment building when he comes in.

He looks nasty and you can’t help but cringe.

He drops his bag on the floor when he’s near and wraps his arms around you. For a while, you just remain like that, hugging, passing your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“You wanna go up? I got us lego sets to build”, you ask in a small voice. He nods and pulls away without meeting your gaze.

You haven’t seen him since his huge fight in Toronto so the black eye is shocking at first. And now he’s been suspended for four games. You know that even if he likes causing chaos, he likes the game more.

You silently follow him up to his apartment. It’s a small studio, nothing crazy but it’s cozy and it’s clean.

You set your bags near the couch and go to the kitchen to look for something to cook dinner with. In the meantime, Matt gets another cold shower and changes into a pair of sweats.

When he comes out of his room, wet hair falling across his eyes, his t-shirt half up, your breath catches in your throat. Your gaze moves downwards and then you catch a glimpse of the bruises on his side as he finishes putting his shirt on.

“I left clothes for you on my bed if you wanna change into something more comfortable. I looked for the smallest sweatpants but hoodie might be just enough.”

He walks up to you and smells around, “What you’re cooking there?”

“Mac and cheese. Didn’t have too much choice” A pleasant smile appears on his face. “I can finish it, go get comfortable.”

He nudges you lightly so you let him take over and go to take a shower and change.

You had stayed at his place in Hartford the last two times you went up there. But this was different. You had always brought your own clothes and you would eat out with his friends before coming and crashing on his couch before leaving the next morning.

Now you are changing into his clothes, and as he said the hoodie almost reaches your knee so you don’t bother with trying on the pants. It smells of him and you try not to be weird about it but it brings you such a sense of comfort you can’t help but wrap your arms around yourself.

When you walk back into the open kitchen Matt is done with the Mac n cheese and getting the table ready.

“You can sit down. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

You listen to him and sit down and a few moments later so does he. You eat in silence until he asks you about your day.

You don’t want to press him about anything or upset him so you just go with his flow, letting him welcome you in when he’s ready.

When you’re done eating, it’s your turn to tell him to go get comfortable on the couch while you clean up the kitchen. Once you’re done you join him on the couch where he already started taking the legos out of their boxes.

You talk about your childhoods and how you used to play with legos and other toys, about your favorites and the ones you lost but just remembered how much you liked them.

When you finished the set, he put it on the shelf next to his TV and you both went to bed.

You insisted on sleeping on the couch to not bother him but he argued that he would.

Of course you wouldn’t let him, knowing the physical state he was in. So you agreed to both sleep in the bed.

Once you’re under the covers and the lights are off you can’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth as you turn towards him, “Does it hurt a lot?”

He turns around to face you too, “Where?”

It breaks your heart to hear him say this. Are there really so many hurtful part?

You slowly bring your hand to his abdomen under the covers. “Here?”

“I didn’t think you would see it”, he shuddered at your touch so you pull your hand back.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay.” your voices are no louder than a whisper.

“Can I hug you?”, there’s timidity in your voice that he has never heard before.

“Please”

You wrap your arms around him and press his head under your chin. You fall asleep in that position only a few minutes later.

——

Now, you are waiting for him by the north entrance after his game against Florida as he had asked you but you have no idea what to expect nor where he is taking you. It didn’t really matter anyway as you get to spend time with him.

He walks out the building wearing his suit, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Congrats ! You played until the end” You laugh at him throwing your arms around his torso. God how you loved his hugs. It feels like being engulfed in the warmest cloud.

“And I got an assist”, he says pulling back from the hug and grinning at you.

Your smile widens as well as you crank your neck to look up at him “You did great champ!”

You pull away from his arms feeling yourself getting hungrier by the second. “Come one now take me to eat. You know cheering on you is such a physical activity.”

You catch sight of his crooked tie once you are completely out of his arms and reach to straighten it. “I changed as fast as I could so you wouldn’t have to wait long.” He explains looking down at you.

You can’t look up to meet his gaze, too busy trying to hide your blush.

When you’re done, you ask him to lead the way and he points to the left and tells you to follow him because “he knows a place”.

You walk for a few blocks until you’re in Times Square and then he stops.

“Matt don’t tell me you wanna play tourist right now. I swear I’m not kidding when I say I’m famished.” You look up at him with a pout.

He checks his watch, “Can you keep the whining down, I’m the one who’s paying for dinner, please?” He looks around at the billboard like he’s never seen them before.

“I’m hungry, come on let’s go I’ll pay for my meal if it’s what it takes.” You try to argue.

He stops turning around and you get in front of him to try and get his attention back on you. He checks his watch again. What is he waiting for?

“Matt the hell are you looking around for ? This is not your first time in Time Square. I hope the place you wanted to take me doesn’t close too soon…”

He looks behind you and his eyes light up. “This is where I wanted to take you.” He says grinning like a devil.

You want to ask what’s going on, mouth half open but he tells you to turn around so you do.

Mouth still hanging agape, the first thing your eyes lay on is a huge billboard with your name on it. And the question “Will you go to prom with me?”. You heart skips a beat there.

You’re speechless for a second and very confused when you turn back around to look at Matt. “What is this? What prom, Matt? Colleges don’t do proms and I’m in my senior year. What do you…”

He cuts you off seeing the frown on your face “You told me once that you never got to go to prom during high school. And I know how much you love those fancy dresses and dancing to 2000 music. I didn’t want you to feel sad again because you feel like you missed out on something.”

Oh you are so about to cry.

Tears are brimming your lashes already. Your stomach is doing somersaults.

“So will you go to prom with me? The one I organized just for us so you can’t really say no…” You hear the small quiver in his voice and how he slows down at the end. He is feeling unsure. It’s the sweetest thing ever.

The tears staining your face are happy ones so you nod your head vigorously, unable to speak because of the knot in your throat. A smile cracks its way onto your face and at the sight of it he leans down to hug you. You jump into his arms and wraps yours around his neck.

“I can’t believe you did this for me” You’re now sobbing into his shoulder, pushing your face into the crook of his neck to hide your tear stained, all red, face, from the crowd around you.

It feels like it’s just the two of you in the world. You don’t hear the crowd over your own beating heart anymore.

How did you get so lucky?

You want to tell him how much this means to you, how much he means to you. Yet it’s not the time to confess your feelings. You can’t ruin this moment with your selfish emotions when he’s done this for you as a friend. So you settle for thank yous.

“You’re the best, really.” You squeeze harder before trying to pull away but he still has you in his arms and your feet don’t even touch the ground.

Your faces are inches away, and you feel an itch you can’t quite scratch, because he’s not your boyfriend and kissing him could ruin all this.

“Thank you. Genuinely. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but you’re really the best Matt” You think he can probably feel your breath on his face. You hope he can’t hear your pulse this close. You hope you don’t smell of the beer you drank earlier at the game.

Oh no, you realise as he puts you down, your breath probably smells of the beer.

He shots the toothiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Good let’s go get you some food now.”

May the universe help your poor little heart, as you melt internally at his smile, words and actions.

——

You knew Matthew was a man of his word and if he said he would do it he will. But what you didn’t expect was for him to go so overboard with it.

A few days after his promposal, he texts you that after class you’re both going shopping the next day. He had called you after the game when they clinched the first spot and said that your fake prom would be before the playoffs.

He waits for you in front of your building, baseball cap sitting backwards on his head, two coffees in his hand.

Your heart skips a beat when you first catch sight of him, easy to notice him with such a height. You think you would recognise him even in the dark anyway, when everything in your body pulls you to him in the way it has done since you’ve met him.

He’s right here and so close and yet so out of reach because you can’t run up to him and kiss him like you would like to.

It has gotten harder to ignore your feelings since he started acting like the best boyfriend in the world while simultaneously not being your boyfriend.

You walk slowly to give yourself time to recompose yourself. He smiles broadly when he sees you too.

He doesn’t know how much he affects so you can’t blame him. He’s just being friendly, like he always was.

When you reach him, he hands you your cup of coffee then pulls you into his chest and your giggle gets muffled by his warm sweater.

He asks you about your day, your classes, why you’ve been up since he went away. He listens to your every word even though you’ve already told him all of this through texts.

You walk the streets of New York together until he stops in front of a dress shop.

“No, no, no Matt, I cant afford this.” You stop him before he walks inside, hand on his arm. “And ai’m not letting you pay for my dress. Just putting this out there hopefully before the thought even crosses your mind”

He takes your hand off his arms and wraps it with his. “Let’s just see what they have.”

He tugs you inside and you don’t have any other choice but to follow.

The shopping assistant greets you and after giving you a few minutes to look around she starts asking question about what you want, the type of event, the color preferences, the length.

Sure you had imagined the type of dress you would have worn if you ever got invited to prom when you were a teenager. But you were never invited by anyone and as you were starting to think about going alone your mom got very sick and you had to stay home while your dad went to work.

But asked this way on the spot you have no idea. You say blue for the colour. It’s you favourite one and Matt has a nice blue suit that could match.

The sales assistant picked out some dresses for you while you and Matt looked around. He made you promise to not look at the price until you’ve tried on all the dresses that you liked but you knew you wouldn’t be getting anything from here.

After going around the whole store, the sales assistant directed you to the back to try on the dresses. Struggling to tie up the dress, you peak your head outside the door to ask her for help but only see Matthew.

“She went to get you heels. Do you need help?” You nod, open the door wider as he gets closer and slowly turn around making sure the dress stays in place.

He gets on it with expert hands pulling the laces tight. “Tighter?” His voice is low, near your ear. It sends shivers down your spine.

You nod not trusting your voice just yet. You feel hot all over but you also shiver.

“Sorry my fingers are cold…”

He is almost done now so you want to break the awkward silence.

“You’re good at it.” Great remark, way to go.

“Yeah I helped my sister a few times.”

Did he just compare you to his sister? Amazing.

With perfect timing your sales assistant comes back with a pair of beautiful black heels. “Sorry for making you wait. Your boyfriend told me you shoe size but I had to find something that would match.”

So much for helping with the awkwardness…

“He um… we’re not um…” You tried articulating your thoughts pointing between you and Matt.

Instead of helping you, he looks at you with an amused look on his face then thanks the woman while taking the shoes from her.

“You can hold onto my shoulder.” He says kneeling down and setting the shoes on the ground in front of you. You lift your dress with one hand, grab his shoulder with the other one as he so kindly suggested, and then extend your foot to put the shoe on. He even helps you get the shoe on.

You were trying not to overthink his every move but it was impossible. Why is he acting this way all of a sudden ? Why didn’t he tell the sales assistant that you were just friends ? Why ..?

Your thoughts are cut off when Matthew stands up and you lose your balance and almost fall.

He extends an arm to catch but you stop him with your hand and a chuckle.

He steps back and he and the sales assistant both look at you. You start feeling flustered so you turn around to look for a mirror.

As you walk over to it, you can feel Matt’s gaze on your black, and the ghosts of his fingertips on your skin.

The dress looks beautiful but something is not right. It’s a bit too over the top and you just don’t feel it. Matthew sees it in your eyes when you look at him through the mirror.

You change into the second dress but you don’t like how it looks around your chest so you don’t even get out of the dressing room.

The third one was beautiful. The flowy fabric, the sea green color of the dress, the thin straps and square neckline accentuating all the right places. You look down at yourself one last time and take a peak at the price tag before walking out of the dressing room to show it to Matt. It breaks your heart to act like it’s not the most beautiful dress you have ever worn. But you can’t afford it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Matthew looking at you this way. His mouth is slightly agape which gives you an insane boost of confidence.

“Yeah I’m not gonna take this one. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You tease him which makes him slightly blush. Oh this is getting funny.

“Should I do a spin ? Let me do a spin”

Maybe you could not eat for the next month or two ? Because if it triggers this type of reaction from Matt you would wear it everyday.

When you look at him again, he stares at you and gulps.

“You look.. you look like a washed up algue on the Jersey shore” He deadpans. A smirk threatens to crack his serious appearance.

You explode in laughter, “You sure know how to talk to a woman. But that settles it I’m not buying it.” You turn around to go back into the dressing room without seeing his disappointed look or leaving him the time to argue with you.

You try on the rest of the dresses but none of them are what you are looking for so you bid goodbye to the sales assistants and exit the store.

“This was very cute of you Matt but I promise I’ll find the perfect dress in a thrift shop without having to starve for the next month.” You assured him.

“Yeah sure sorry…” How dare he be this cute??

“I know that we went to this type of store with my sister for her proms and she loved it.” He argues

You smile at him, “So you wanted my experience to be as authentic as it gets.”

“Exactly” he gives you that cheeky childish grin. He’s proud of himself and he can be.

You shake your head at him and urge him in the direction of your favorite coffee shop.

“It’s too late for coffee I think”, he remarks which makes you look at the time on your phone.

“Wow I didn’t think we wasted that much time in the store” you were surprised, but then again time moves so fast when you were having fun with Matt.

“Hey come on it wasn’t a waste of time you got to try on beautiful dresses” he argued again, heading back in the direction of your dorm.

“You’re right but not walking faster to get to Phil’s surely is a waste of time” You saying grinning.

“When it comes to getting food it always sounds like you’re the 6’7 hockey players who needs to eat a lot of calories” He’s already caught up to you so you can punch his arm at the teasing.

“Yeah well where would I get the energy to annoy you if I didn’t eat this much?”, you give him the same sassy energy back.

The banter and the laughter doesn’t stop and suddenly he’s already walking you back to your dorm and hugging you goodbye.

Once you are in your pyjamas you get your laptop out and get to work on your assignment.

To your dismay, pretty boys don’t make uni work disappear…

——

You were looking at your eyeshadow palette, indecisive. Maybe you should just do a simple eyeliner ? You wanted to do your best, look your best, impress Matt after everything he’s done for you.

You were lucky to find a dress similar to the sea green one you had found in the store but just a tad lighter in colour. You put on your highest heels so the pictures with Matthew looked better. He promised to make it look as authentic as possible so he got one of the older guys on the team to let him borrow the apartment. Pictures by the fireplace are a must according to him.

So you gathered all the belongings you needed after your only class this morning and came to the address he had sent you. You called the number he had sent along when you were in front of the building and a nice woman who introduced herself as Christine told you what apartment to go to.

You were sort of starstruck when she first opened the door and wondered how these hockey players really bagged all these 10s. She wasn’t amongst the girls and women you had met both times you have gone with Matt to the bar to celebrate after a game and you understood why when you heard two kids arguing in the background.

She had quickly let you in and apologized for the noise they were making while taking you to the room where you could get ready. You had thanked her a million times over for welcoming you this way but she told you that they couldn’t say no when Matthew had explained his plan so sweetly. She had commented about how lucky you were to have him with a wink and you nodded, cheeks flustered.

Now you are almost done. You had begun with your hair, finally decided to just do a soft look on your eyes with some glitter and put on your dress.

You are putting on your pink gloss, looking at yourself in the mirror. You promise yourself that this is the night you will tell Matt how you feel, when you hear a knock on the door.

“Honey, are you ready? Matthew is here.” Christine calls out to you.

“I will be out in a minute.”, you answer as you put on your perfume finally.

You take a deep breath before opening the door and shake your arms in a manner to get the anxiety out of your body. You walk to the living room slowly to not scrap the parquet with your heels, looking down at your feet, dress in hand.

When you get there, you raise your head to find Matt already looking at you. He looks stunning in his suits, you already knew that. But there something that made him look particularly handsome. Probably knowing that he dressed up for you.

A smile creeps its way in your face as he stares at you in awe. You pat yourself on the back internally for doing a good job on the hair and makeup.

“You look um… you look beautiful.”, he finally manages to get out.

You giggle and thank him. He really makes you feel like a high schooler, you think.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You smile.

“You see me in a suit every other day”, he’s being modest.

“But you have something particular about yourself today”

Oh god, you’re gonna be the death of him. Complementing him so effortlessly. He made more of an effort today it’s true. He wanted to look half as good as you at least. He also made a point of not fighting in his last games so he doesn’t have a bruised face on these pictures.

“Oh I got something for you.” He reaches out behind him on the fireplace and grabs a box. You walk closer, curious to see what it is and your eyes lay in a beautiful corsage for your wrist and a matching flower for his pocket.

You give him your hand and look at him while puts it on “It’s beautiful thank you.”

“Okay kids, let's take some cute pictures,” Christine says, clapping her hands, even though she already took ten pictures of you interacting.

“I see you’re fully playing your role” you laugh at her antics.

“Just rehearsing for the future”, she retorts with the same cocky smile you gave her. “Okay now get in front of the fireplace. Matt stands behind her.” She was giving instructions like a pro and you assumed she’s already done this for her own prom.

Just like she said, Matt walks up behind you and sneaks his arms around your waist. Instinctively, he spreads his fingers but his hands awkwardly cover your whole tummy so he holds your hips.

You try to relax for the picture but you’re overly aware of every inch of his body touching yours.

“Come on guys, give me your best smiles now!” Christine encourages you.

You try to focus on the pictures, the camera, your hair, your smile. You rearrange your dress to be sure it is okay.

Once she says she has a few good ones, you change your pose and you get used to it. You look at a few before takes and they do look beautiful.

Once you’re done, Matt thanks Christine and you both head out to the restaurant he had made a reservation for.

The taxi ride is not too long since you were already in a nice part of the city. The restaurant looks way too over priced and you feel bad for how much money he’s spending on you.

Once you’re sitting at your table, you can help but tease him, “I’m amazed you even managed to make such a reservation.”

“Schneider helped”, he admits.

“So this evening really is a team effort. If I wasn’t enjoy it so much, I would probably feel bad for bothering everybody”, you say half jokingly.

The whole dinner is amazing and delicious. You don’t think you’ve ever eaten in a place this fancy and frankly both of you probably look out of place.

More than once you laugh a little too loud and swear a little too often which earns you some pointed glances from the old rich people around you. That only makes you laugh even more.

By the time you’re out of them, you feel the slight buzz of the overpriced wine and can’t wait to see what Matt has planned next.

The next taxi ride takes you back to his apartment and you’re sad you didn’t get to dance. You think you might still convince Matt to put on some music to dance in the kitchen too.

You think of your arguments all the way up and when he makes you wait in the hallway. But you don’t need any once he opens the door and lets you see what he prepared inside.

There was glitter everywhere, colorful light effects and you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of a photo zone next to the bathroom door.

“I know we don’t have a prom party with all the people dancing around us and our friends but I hoped this would make do.”, he says looking at you from behind, studying your every emotion.

You turn to him, your brightest smile on your face “This is perfect Matt.” You grab his hand and drag him inside.

“Let’s take a picture first. We can set the timer and flash on my phone.” You set your phone in the place he prepared for it and push on the timer. You take your dutiful place in front of him in front of the photo zone and there’s no awkwardness as earlier.

Then you go back to the leaving room to put some music on, he goes to the kitchen and comes out with punch.

“Don’t we face the chaperones too? For the more authentic experience…”

“You plan on doing such naughty things you need a chaperone?” Oh, you weren’t expecting him to clap back this way.

“I don’t have enough alcohol in the system, bring that punch over here”, cowardly move but you didn’t lie. You need more liquid courage to tell him everything you think.

You take the drink from his hand when he extends it to you and down half of it.

You cradle the rest of your hand while Give me everything tonight plays in the background but it doesn’t take long for you to finish that too.

You dance to your favorite songs until a slow by Def Leppard comes on. “Wouldn’t be a full prom experience if we didn’t slow dance”, Matt defends his choice of putting it in the playlist.

“You’re right. Let’s dance”c you nod getting closer to him. Your fingers are intertwined behind his neck and his hands settle in your lower back.

With each sway to the rhythm, your bodies get closer.

You look amazing. He used beautiful earlier but that hadn’t been enough to describe how truly gorgeous you look. He wants to use every word he knows, compare you to stars and flowers and yet it still feels like it wouldn’t be enough. You are giving him your brightest smile and he feels proud at the thought that he is the one who put it on your face. He made you happy. He wants to make you happy everyday in the future.

You are so close to him. Right in front of him. He thinks he should gather his courage and tell you he likes you. He can feel the warmth radiating from your skin through your thin dress, your fingers running through his hair at the nape of his neck.

He thinks about all the times you’ve made him happy. The first time you ever talked to him and offered snacks to him and his friends who were just strangers in the park. The time when you first surprised him by coming to Hartford to see him play. He wasn’t seeing you in that light at the time. However recently, when you came to comfort him after he had been suspended for four games. He had wanted to kiss you then right in his lobby when he saw you. But he couldn’t use you like that to drown his sorrows. And what were the chances that you wouldn’t push him away and leave him all alone?

He always thought you were hot, even Schneider and Lafrenière commented on it when he had brought you to the bar with them to celebrate. He had told them to back off right then and there, to not even think about it. He thought it was due to friendly protectiveness. He later realised that he hated the thought of anyone else putting their hands on you and make you happy in that way.

“Why didn’t you ever kiss me?”, you interrupt his train of thought. He is completely caught out. Did he hear you right? He takes another few seconds to process but he can see the concern taking over your features.

“I could do that? I didn’t know I could?” he looks dumbfounded which makes you laugh. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Do you want to?”

“Stupid question. Can I kiss you?”, his breath is ragged.

“Stupid question.” you giggle, “Lose some more time asking others like this o-“.

He doesn’t let you finish before crashing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. It’s passionate but sweet and oh so soft at the same time.

It’s so much better than you couldn’t have ever imagined. Sparks fly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. Shivers run down your spine. You have wanted this for so long, was tempted to do it a million times and it is finally happening.

You need more. You wish he would never stop kissing you.

When he pulls away for air, slightly panting and lips and the skin around them sparkly from your gloss, you can’t help the chuckle.

“It tastes like cherry”, he says through a small laugh of his own.

“Oh yeah? wanna taste it some more?”

#matt rempe x reader #matt rempe

455 notes · View notes

carisc4pshaw · 1 month ago

Text

Office Christmas Party

In which the Hotchner!reader needs a plus one for an office Christmas party and Aaron Hotchner is quick to suggest Spencer accompanying her. (Fluff&Smut!)

word count: 4.4k

tags: office christmas party, one bed, aaron hotchner (dad), fem reader, bisexual reader, elle greenaway, spencer reid, plus one, new york city, christmas movie, room service, falling in love, crush, smut, fluff, elevator kissing, fancy hotel, manhattan, sightseeing, work colleagues, dating the boss’ daughter, girly reader

warnings: elevator kissing, sub spencer reid, dick riding, protected PinV sex

notes: Happy Christmas/ Christmas eve everyone! I hope you enjoy this, I tried my best but I’m still new to writing with a reader. I think I remembered all the tags pls let me know if * missed anything.

—————————💚————————

Two weeks before Christmas you walked into the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI, your shoulder bag swinging as you walked up the small staircase towards your father’s office not bothering to knock before opening the door.

“What have I told you about knocking,” Aaron Hotchner looked up from whatever file he was finishing to see you standing in the doorway.

“My bad? I need help,” you sighed loudly sitting down on the chair opposite him.

“What have you done now? Hotch asked putting down his pen.

You gasped putting a hand on your chest, “That’s rude! I haven’t done anything.”

“Then what do you need help with?” He sat back in his chair looking at you waiting for you to continue talking.

“There’s a Christmas work party out of town next week and I have no plus one and I don’t want to go alone, help me find someone to go with please!”

“Man or woman? You know this isn’t exactly the help you ask your father for.”

“I know but I’m desperate, I’ll take anything, anyone,” You dramatically slumped over on his desk putting your head in your arms that were folded on the desk.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s it? I need to know possible suitors now. Does that hot brunette still work here I saw her once when I came to visit.”

“Who?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Um,” you pictured yourself being back there that day and looking over at her desk, “Elle!”

“Yes.. she works here but she’s a little old for you?”

“She doesn’t look old, how old is she?”

“29.”

“Dad that’s only eight years difference. I’ve dated older people than that.”

“I have Elle on a special assignment in Texas next week but you’re more than welcome to ask her on a date another time I suppose…” Aaron said before adding, “What about Spencer?”

You pondered for a moment, “Look I like him he’s got that sexy nerd vibe.. also he looks like he’d be clueless but so good in b-“ You stopped what you were saying remembering you were speaking to your father, not a friend, “Nevermind. Do you think he will ramble a lot I don’t know if the other workers will like it, they are nowhere near as smart as him and I don’t want them to say things about him.”

“He does talk a lot but I thought you liked that plus he’s closer to your age,” Hotch made his point after shaking his head at your words, he wasn’t born yesterday he knew exactly what you were about to say and he did not like it at all.

“I suppose, there’s going to be models, influencers and fashion magazines we work with there though… I guess Spencer isn’t too bad he has a grandad kind of style going on people and by people I mean me, find that quite hot nowadays.”

“Look I have a job to do if you’re going to ask him just ask,” He said looking back at his file, “Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

“The company are scouting new models today I’m not required to be there, I don’t do that.”

“Right, well speak to Spencer and tell him I’ll give him extra time off with pay since he’ll be entertaining you. Where is this party?”

“New York. The company convinced Lilia Archer to go. I’m so excited she’s awesome.”

“Lilia Archer? Mention her and Spencer will be there I’m sure.”

“What do you mean? He’s got like a crush on her?”

“We had a case she was involved with last year, Spencer kissed her.”

“What?” you asked shocked but also with a hint of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

Aaron laughed, “It was… unexpected.”

“You can say that again,” you picked up your bag, “I’ll see you later dad, love you.”

Hotch stood from his chair and walked around the corner of his desk pulling his daughter into a hug, “I love you too.”

You left the office walking down the stairs while looking around to see if you could spot Spencer.

You finally found him over by the coffee machine pouring an unnecessary amount of sugar into his coffee, “Spencer?”

The man turned around quickly hearing his name spoken so softly by a voice he recognised, “Y/N! Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I was actually looking for you,” you started.

“You were… Why?” His lips pressed into a straight line as his eyebrows knitted together.

“Are you busy next week? On Friday and Saturday?”

“I mean yes, I’ll be here…”

“And what if my father gave you some time off?” you smiled with hope.

“What’s going on?”

“I need a plus one for a Christmas party in New York, Please be my plus one Spence,” you clasped your hands together grinning widely.

“I’m not sure it’s really… well my scene, you work in fashion with models and I don’t usually go to parties.”

“Please Spencer, Lilia Archer is going to be there apparently,” you smirked a little.

“Oh I definitely cannot go, she’s got a boyfriend it will just be awkward,” Spencer frowned.

“Fine, I’ll have her uninvited or something? Please Spencer, If you don’t want to share a room with me I’ll pay for you to have your own.”

“What, no, you don’t have to spend your money on that I don’t mind sharing i-if that’s okay with you, of course!” Spencer stuttered getting nervous.

“So you’re coming?” the wide smile reappeared on your face.

Spencer sighed, “I guess so, what do I need to take?”

“Can I have your keys?”

“What why?” Spencer’s eyes widened.

“I have a day off, you are always busy and I will pick good outfits, it’s literally my job, I’ll go pack for you,” you put your hand out waiting for his keys.

“But I haven’t tidied up, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Spence you’re a clean freak your meaning of messy is everyone else’s spotless clean.”

“Just stick to the wardrobe, don’t snoop around I know what you’re like,” Spencer said as he handed over his keys.

“Yes Doctor Reid, oh yeah if it wasn’t obvious you’re going as my boyfriend,” you kissed him on the cheek before walking off not giving him time to respond.

“What’s going on there pretty boy? The big boss wouldn’t be too happy if he saw that,” Derek said as Spencer’s blush deepened on his cheeks.

“I thought she was into me…” Elle added.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t turn down a night with both of you,” Derek winked at the brunette.

“You’re disgusting,” She rolled her eyes going back to typing on her computer.

——————

When Spencer returned home from work the next day, he opened the door to see his apartment fairly clean with his books that didn’t fit in the bookcase stacked up in alphabetical order as well as some cookies on the kitchen counter and as he went into his room he saw the open suitcase on the bed with a note by the side.

I hope you like everything I’ve packed and you enjoy the cookies I made you. I’m trying to be a good ‘girlfriend’ ;)

Y/N <3

Over the next few days, You only came into the office once to give Spencer another note that contained your phone number so you could communicate about where to meet before flying to New York.

On the day of the trip, Spencer drove to your apartment at 6 am, your flight was at 8:30 am but your apartment was a 20-minute bus ride from the airport meaning it was the best place to meet.

Spencer knocked on the door and waited a few minutes before knocking again.

“Spencer there’s a key under the mat!” You called through the apartment. The man rolled his eyes, you had probably woken up your neighbours and just told them where you had been hiding your spare key although by the look of the building it may have soundproof walls or a least more soundproof than his were at his apartment.

He took the key and unlocked the door, stepping inside to see you in the kitchen with your hair in rollers, drinking a cup of tea with multiple outfits hanging up around the house.

“I take it you aren’t ready?” Spencer said.

“Good morning my love, nope almost just need to pick the airport outfit!”

“I like the second one,” He shrugged.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the fourth.”

Spencer shook his head with a laugh, “Please don’t be long we don’t have much time.”

“Don’t stress it’s all cool,” you picked up the coat hanger that had a pair of black Victoria's Secret sweatpants, a white tank top and an off-the-shoulder sweater on, “Make a coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

Every minute that passed Spencer checked his watch getting more anxious until finally 15 minutes later you left your bedroom with a suitcase and 2 bags with your hair curled and your outfit on.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” you said grabbing your phone and walking over to the door.

——————

You and Spencer stood outside the hotel and spa, it looked fancy and definitely out of his price range, Spencer thought to himself.

“Ready for 2 days of fun boyfriend?” You smirked pulling your suitcase through the glass door of the hotel.

Spencer followed closely behind you holding one of your bags. He let you check in before you went to your room on the top floor.

“Woah this is huge!” you said looking at the hotel room’s super king-sized bed.

“It’s a nice hotel, how much did you pay for this?” Spencer asked leaving his suitcase next to the left side of the bed.

“I didn’t, my boss did. I’m pretty sure she booked out the whole hotel for the party.”

“So,” Spencer sat down on the bed after removing his shoes, “What exactly is the plan?”

“What plan?” you raised an eyebrow sitting down next to him and picking up the room service menu.

“Why am I here?” Spencer kept to the edge of his side of the bed.

“To be my plus one for the party tomorrow night, maybe you can show me around the city, dad said you’ve been here more than a few times for cases.”

“That’s it? You just wanted a plus one? There was no hidden meaning? I’m sure you could have found someone better looking on a dating website.”

“I like nerdy guys, plus you’re a fancy FBI agent,” you turned to look at him biting your lip before giggling, “I think we are going to have fun, wanna explore the hotel?”

“Maybe later, I want to stay here for a few minutes since I’m going to have to start using my social battery soon.”

“Okay suit yourself, I’m going to meet some of my friends I won’t be longer than an hour,” you said getting off the bed and heading out of the door.

Spencer sighed once he heard the door close, his head falling back against the headboard. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had a crush on you but he knew you were totally off-limits, you were Hotch’s daughter after all.

His head felt dizzy picturing the way you had looked at him while biting your lip even if it was jokingly it still made his head spin and his blood rush to his cock.

Spencer took it upon himself to take a cold shower, he needed one after the flight anyway so why not kill two birds with one stone?

You walked back into the room at the same time as Spencer opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped just around his waist.

“Hello to you too, what a nice surprise,” you winked at him with a laugh.

“Shut up,” the man walked back into the bathroom closing the door, “I thought you were going to be an hour.”

“Got bored, assumed you’d want to go out or get something to eat maybe? Do you find if we swap rooms I need to pee.”

“Oh, oh sure,” Spencer opened the door again, “Food sounds good. Could you stay in the bathroom until I’m dressed?”

“Sure if it makes you more comfortable,” You smiled going into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Spencer got dressed as he called into the bathroom, “I’m paying for our food, you can come out by the way.”

You opened the bathroom door, “You don’t have to Spence, my father gave me some money to spend here.”

“Use it to buy something nice, I want to pay for dinner,” Spencer smiled at you.

“Fine I’m not going to turn that down again,” you laughed and grabbed your purse.

——————

You and Spencer had lunch and stayed out exploring the city until 5 pm when you headed back to the hotel.

“Are you sure you’re okay ordering room service for dinner?” You asked Spencer for the 4th time since you had been walking back to the hotel.

“Yes I’m fine with it,” Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes pushing their room door open.

Just as he was about to close the door he heard a feminine voice calling ‘Wait’ Confused, he waited, by this point, you had gone into the bedroom.

“Oh!” The woman spoke, “I’m so sorry I thought this was my friend's room.”

“You’re a friend of Y/N?”

“Yes… and you are?”

“Spencer,” he smiled, “Y/N, someone is at the door for you.”

You groaned and came out of the bedroom with your sweater off, you looked extremely good in the white tank top you had been wearing under the sweater.

“Laura! Oh hey; Laura this is my boyfriend Spencer, Spencer this is my boss Laura.”

“Boyfriend?” Laura looked confused, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes…” points to Spencer, “Boyfriend.”

“Oh well, I guess you don’t need to come to the club with me and a couple of the others to find plus-ones then,” Laura laughed.

“Nope, no clubbing for me, Spence and I are going to have a movie night, order room service and have lots of cuddles,” you grinned.

“That’s cool have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow, or I’ll text you if I get lucky,” Laura winked before leaving the room.

You closed the door and Spencer eyed you curiously, “I wouldn’t have minded if you went out.”

“We have plans did you not hear?”

“You were being serious you want a movie night with me?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“And cuddles,” you smiled before returning to the bedroom, “Can you order room service while I take a shower?”

“Of course, What do you want?”

You hummed, “Carbonara, margarita pizza, red wine and chocolate brownie with ice cream. Oh and ask for bottled water.”

Spencer laughs, “I’m guessing this gets charged to your boss?”

“You guessed right, order what you want. I love her but I love spending money more,” You giggled going into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

You walked out of the bathroom in your towel, “Sorry I forgot to take my pyjamas through.”

Spencer cleared his throat, “It’s fine um room service will be 6 minutes and roughly 17 seconds.”

——————

The two sat in the living room area of the room eating their meals and sharing a few bites with each other.

You both went back to the bedroom to watch TV and just as you were about to climb into the bed you took off your dressing gown revealing your silky pyjamas which consisted of a low-cut tank top and short shorts.

Spencer’s face went a little red as he cleared his throat, “That's what you chose to bring?”

“Is there a problem with them?” You asked looking down at your clothes.

“No, no, no problem you look really um great,” he wanted to continue his ramble but you stopped him.

“You can tell me I’m hot baby,” the younger woman winked.

“Stop that, let’s just watch the movie,” Spencer spoke desperately.

“Fineeee,” you said dragging out the last letter as you switched the TV on.

At some point during the movie, you fell asleep on Spencer’s arm. Once he realised you were sleeping he switched off the movie and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you woke first with a groan, you smiled as you tilted your head up to see Spencer sleeping. He looked so perfect as he slept. You weren’t sure if having thoughts like that were sweet or creepy.

You pulled back the duvet to go to make some tea. By the time you came back, Spencer was starting to wake up.

“Sorry, I didn’t make you anything I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” you said getting back into bed.

“That’s fine, good morning,” He smiled trying not to move.

“Good morning, is everything okay?” your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.

“Yeah I’m fine, just uh disorientated… give me a few minutes to wake up.”

“Man troubles?” you caught on and raised an eyebrow.

Spencer choked, “What?”

“Oh come on I wasn’t born yesterday Spence, I’ve had boyfriends. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He covered his face with his hands, “It is embarrassing but it will go away. What time is it?” Spencer asked changing the subject.

“Only 7:30 but Dad will call at 8 to check on me,” you rolled your eyes,

“And then I’ll go back to sleep for a bit.”

“What time are you getting up?” Spencer said, he was used to getting up long before this time most mornings but it wouldn’t hurt if he had a lay-in for once. It wouldn’t usually be his thing but these beds were extremely comfortable.

“Before noon? The party starts at 5 pm so I’ll have more than enough time to get ready,” You placed the empty mug on the bedside table and waited for Aaron to call you in the meantime Spencer had fallen back to sleep.

—————

When you both woke up again, you had slept slightly past noon. Spencer had a few missed calls from the team, he instantly felt guilty that he wasn’t available to answer his phone if they needed help but it didn’t take long for you to convince him that it was his day off and he didn’t have to be on call all the time.

After a lot of stressing about curling your hair and making sure your make-up was perfect, you were almost ready. The last thing you had to do was put your dress on.

Spencer was waiting on the small sofa for you to finish getting ready. When you walked out of the bedroom in the long sparkly dark grey strapless dress his mouth almost fell open and his eyes were glued to you, his pupils dilated.

“I have some rules, well if you agree to them, we have to actually act like a couple… you know kissing and stuff and I want you to be yourself… earth to Spencer?” you waved your hand in his face when you realised he wasn’t actually listening to you and his eyes were locked on your body, “See something you like?” you laughed.

Spencer nodded his eyes still barely moving as if he was in a trance.

“Wanna take it off? I don’t mind being late,” you smirked.

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts at your words, “What? No, I can’t, you just look good, you look nice, um hot?”

“Thank you,” you tilted your head to the side with a smile, “So you’re fine with kissing?”

“Totally fine, I mean I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time, I might be bad. I really hope I’m not.”

“Spence, you’ll be fine.”

——————

You had no problem introducing Spencer as your boyfriend to your work colleagues making him wonder if you had done this before, what he wasn’t prepared for though was how highly you spoke of him and the sparkle in your eyes which to him would suggest that you really meant what you were saying. However, when you spotted Lilia Archer across the room you changed. It wasn’t that you seemed shy because you were anything but shy, but until Lilia spotted both you and Spencer it was like you was trying to hide.

You were the first to notice Lilia walking toward the both of you and your first instinct was to pull Spencer closer to you, your lips landed on him in what was meant to be a quick kiss to make Lilia feel at least a tad bit jealous but the kiss didn’t stop at a quick peck.

The two of you felt a spark run through you that neither of you could explain but you both didn’t want it to end.

Once the genius remembered that you were at a party with hundreds of people and not alone in your hotel room he removed his hand from the side of your face and pulled back from the kiss.

His hand fell beside him, catching your hand in his not long after, “That was interesting…”

“It was.”

“Did you mean it or was it because Lilia was coming?”

You shrugged, “A bit of both I wanted to make her jealous but I did mean it, I think you’re attractive and I know I'm not anywhere near as pretty or cool as Lilia Archer-“

“Stop talking like that. You’re perfect how you are, the only reason I didn’t do that first was that I thought for sure no one as confident as you would want someone… like me. And the other reason is Hotch, he is my boss.”

“Come on Spence you’re the most perfect gentleman I’m sure Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, would be more than happy if his daughter was dating his favourite boy genius.”

Spencer took a small step closer to you despite the lack of distance between you already. He cupped your cheeks lowering his head to give you another kiss.

“I know we’ve only been here for an hour but do you want to get out of here?” you said with a giggle.

“Lead the way.”

——————

The two of you couldn’t keep your hands or your lips off each other in the elevator to your floor or in the hallway toward your room.

Once the hotel door was closed you pushed Spencer up against it, kissing his lips passionately as you fiddled with his tie trying to get it off in a hurry.

You swiftly moved on to unbuttoning his shirt once the tie was off, your lips were still connected but now your tongues were invading each other’s mouths.

Separating from each other to take a couple of breaths, Spencer removed his shoes while you kicked your heeled shoes off removing a few more inches between yours and Spencer’s height.

“Bedroom?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers together.

“I didn’t bring condoms with me, I didn’t plan for well this,” he said with a laugh.

“I always have some with me just in case,” you said as you entered the bedroom immediately finding one in your bag while Spencer removed his pants.

“At least you’re prepared, now come here I love that dress on you, you look beautiful but I want to take it off,” Spencer spoke with a rasped tone, his hands running up and down the curves of your waist and hips once you were standing in front of him.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

Spencer stood up from the bed spinning you around to find the zipper at the back of the dress, when he pulled it down he was met with your bare back meaning you had no bra on and only a lace g-string.

Spencer couldn’t help a quiet moan escaping his mouth when you turned back around showing him your exposed top half.

“You’re beautiful,” he said kissing your lips once again his hands finding your breasts.

A few moments later the both of them were fully undressed nothing left on their bodies.

“Can I put it on?” You asked holding up the condom packet.

“Please,” his voice was slightly strained he was so desperate to be inside of you, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

You ripped open the packet wasting no time before sliding the latex over his cock as a groan fell from his lips.

“Can I be on top?” you asked him.

“You want to ride me?”

“Yes, please?” you gave him a puppy dog-eyed gaze earning a nod from him.

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Spencer held your thighs as you positioned yourself in the right place before slipping his cock inside of you.

You moaned as he penetrated you further. Once fully inside of you, you took a deep breath.

“Am I hurting you?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“No! I just need a second,” you slowly began to move up and down your hands placed on his chest to maintain your balance.

Spencer moaned with each small movement, the warmth from your insides felt incredible wrapped around him, he fit perfectly inside of you.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised him as his hip started to jerk in a rhythm that matched your pace.

“I can’t last much longer, you feel so good,” Spencer moaned against your lips, when you leaned down to kiss him his cock angled even deeper instead of you.

You could barely open your eyes as you said, “I’m almost there.” The way you spoke triggered something in Spencer that made him remove one of his hands from your back and move it so his thumb would brush against your clit in circles.

With a few more sloppy thrusts caused by his hips that grazed your g-spot each time combined with him rubbing hard circles against your clit, the both of you came at the same time both with moans so loud anyone would be able to hear them through the walls.

You didn’t pull him out of yourself until you had fully gotten your breath back.

“Oh my god,” you sighed lifting off him and rolling into the space beside him, covering half of your body with the thin duvet.

“Good, oh my god? or bad?” Spencer asked pulling you close to him.

“Definitely good, so good,” You answered.

“Okay good because I agree, you were amazing,” Spencer pecked your lips softly.

“I hope you plan on being my plus one again,” you spoke quietly running your fingernails down his naked chest.

He pulled the duvet up to cover your body a little more, “I certainly plan on it.”

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