#i was beyond awkward when i last did stuff with her

[mygnolia]

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

[atyourmerci]

† Corruption †

Read pt.1 here

†

Summary: After that fateful night when Abby stumbled into your room and began her demise, she follows you into the showers to reconcile her sins

Warnings: smut, MDNI, switch!abby!?!?, switch!reader, heavy religion play indisone, fnv, cunnilingus, dirty talk yurrrr, no use of y/n

A/N: sorry this took 4ever I just really wanted to get this right and I still don’t love it but I must feed my babies. I mightttttt make a pt.3 that’s up to yall but either way I’m going to work on some other stuff so please send in recs!! (Also I know hotels don’t have communal showers just shut up and enjoy the porn:))) 

†

Your vision went blurry, plunging you into a coma that kept your breathing synchronized until you couldn’t remember anymore. Maybe all the heavy breathing took you out, maybe God was retaliating at your corruption of his loyal follower. Either way- it was a good way to go out.

When you woke up, severely late at that, there was no sight of Abby, she was gone like the wind. In any normal case, that was what you preferred. The useless banter, awkward cuddling and sentiments were far beyond you. But this felt different- she- was different. Not in a way that you couldn’t have her, an unforbidden love tragedy, but in a way that she altered every being in you. She fucked everything you knew.

Days went by with no interaction; you both avoided each other like the plague. She probably condemned herself the moment she left; fuck she was already in suit of redemption mid orgasm. You avoided her because you knew you couldn’t stop yourself. This wasn’t her way of life- it was yours. Sure, she initiated it, but you reveled in it, got off on it, desired more.

Your thoughts were selfish, self-indulgent, downright merciless. While your days were spent avoiding your unrequited love, your nights had grown breathless as your hand was shoved deep into your panties trying to get yourself off to thoughts of Abby, to no avail. It felt like your karma for fucking God’s favorite devotee. You wished she would hear your aimless attempt, swoop in and return your favor. But she never did, of course she didn’t, she feared her own fucking reflection.

After a week of thoughtless days and sleepless nights you decided to shove the night as far back as possible, stop ruminating on the idea of her. That’s all that night was, a desperate idea of what she could be without moral. That wasn’t the Abby anyone knew, and neither did she.

Friday was terrible, there was an attack at the camp and a few soldiers were pretty bad off. Since you were the only medic, you were tasked with treating multiple injuries at once, scaling them at the urgency of attention. In a sick way, you hoped Abby was hurt. You wished you could have tended to her, even in that light, any way you could get your hands on her.

The only sight of Abby was her bringing in wounded soldiers’ bridal style into your med tent. When she first arrived, it was the first words either of you had spoken in a week, only for her to bark at you about the incident and return with additional members. After she had carried all of them in, she stood and watched you tend to them for a second before you aggressively whipped back to her with a, “I got it, stop breathing down my neck.”

You weren’t trying to be harsh with her, but the last thing you needed was her presence in the wake of this monstrosity. She had already clouded your every thought, and this was not the time to finally have her at the tips of your fingers again.

After hours of stitching, compacting, and amputating wounds you were spent. Blood trailed up and down your body, caked in sweat and dirt. You were barely mobile at this point, but the thought of going to bed decorated with the blood of your friends was unnerving.

You set off to the communal showers in the middle of the rundown hotel, it was so late at this point that you were guaranteed a peaceful shower uninterrupted by any needy suitors. You removed your blood adorned clothes, dropping them to the cold white tiled floor and started the rusty shower head.

The hot water drowns your skin as blood and dirt trail down your body into the drain, you let it soak in your tired flesh as you let the day out of you. You let your fingers run through your tangled hair when you hear a creak of the door open, causing a heavy sigh to linger out of your breath.

The last thing you wanted to do was having to entertain the presence of someone else so you decided to ignore the rustling, continuing to wash through your dirty locks.

Your peace was faltered as you left a breath coming from behind your neck, heavy in almost a pant. You feel strong hands whip you around to face your attacker, and shoved into the cold back tile of the wall sending you into a gasp. Abby stood before you, already stripped of her clothing, the water fell in between your bodies and into your open mouths.

Her hands still gripped at your waist, “touch me and don’t make a fucking sound,” she aggressively whispers low enough so no one could hear, as if it wasn’t the middle of the night, or that the water wouldn’t muffle out any noise, maybe she was that scared of being caught.

“Abby if you think this-“you begin to protest when she cuts you off by pulling you in by your waist to kiss you like a woman starved. It had only been a few days, but she gripped onto you like it had been years, years since she let herself go out of morality. You wanted to stop yourself, tell her you wouldn’t live this lie for her, but your body had a different agenda, it ached for her touch, anything she would give you.

She pulls away from you to simple mutter out a “please,” and you were convinced. It was like a parasite had wormed its way into you, you had gotten just as starved as she was. Without a beat you sunk to your knees as the water flooded your vision, the only sight was her sticky floods pooling between her muscley thighs. You attacked her pussy with your lips spewing a guttural moan out of her lips, she gripped onto your soaked hair for leverage. Her grip on your hair was almost painful but you couldn’t stop lapping her slick into your needy tongue to stop her.

Abby was already shaking from the overstimulation, you couldn’t pace yourself, you needed her to cum for your own validation, to know how much she needed you. Even if she never touched you, you were still fulfilled by the act. “F- fingers pl-ease” she says muffled by the water drenching you. You turn up to watch her plead tongue still deep into her slit, mascara running down your face as the water pelleted your eyes.

“D-ont look at me like th- this,” her mouth agape, she looked like she was crying, maybe she was, maybe it was the hot steam. You run a fat strip from her leaky hole up to her clit never leaving her gaze, she couldn’t look away and neither would you. “What are you going to do if I don’t Anderson?” You say with a cocky smirk and drive your tongue deep into her cunt again making her shake.

With an angered grunt you feel your hair being pulled up so that you’re back to your feet, you let out a wince from the pain before she throws you back onto the tiles, this time you had been too worked up to feel the chill of them on your skin. She places her left hand onto the titles next to your head, the veins in her arms bulging from using them to pull all of your body weight by your hair.

Her chest is flesh with yours that you can feel your bodies breath’s heave back and forth, eyes drilling into each other. “Fingers.” She demands. You didn’t realize you were so in shock by her aggression your hands were pinned at your sides, you moved them down her chest slowly, feeling every chiseled-out crevasse on her. Her breath only becomes more rapid as you draw your fingers closer to her aching cunt.

She whimpers out a “fuck,” as your fingers reattach to her clit, rubbing slow enough to relieve the pain but not enough to get her off. You watch as her head finally drops, and her arm shakes next to your head. Her cross was laid messily on her chest, flipped backwards, you hold back laughter as you think to yourself how God couldn’t watch this right now.

“You like getting fucked by a girl huh Anderson?” You dip your head closer so that you’re in her ear now, “you touch your little pussy every night since I made you cum, yeah?” You taunt and tease her as she whimpers into your ear. “St-op it,” she begs with her head nuzzled into the crook of your neck in a way to almost hide herself.

“Its okay baby, tell me how much you like getting fucked like a godless whore,” you start to circle her clit harder and faster so you can watch how much she likes it. All she can spit out in return is a desperate “fuckkkk,” and you know you’ve broken her. “D- don’t let me cum- I- I don’t deserve it,” she moves her head so you can see her now and begins panting on your lips.

“oh no Im going to enjoy watching you break again,” you say back with a wide grin, reveling in her desperation. You’re ready to dip your fingers into her dripping folds when you feel her free hand travel up your thigh. Her hand finally meets your cunt and she grips it harshly causing you to buck your hips into it.

“A- abby what are you d-doing?” Every emotion hitting you like a ton of bricks. Why was she touching you? This wasn’t her thing, not her job, that was your job. Would you be able to stop her? Control yourself? Let her have you? Why did she feel so fucking good when she was barely touching you?

She continues pulsing her palm into your aching cunt, “just let me try,” she breathes out against your soaked lips. Your fingers begin faltering at her clit, you try continuing your pace but it slows as her palm rubs against you.

She follows your lead by tracing her thick fingers through your slick folds, you bite down on your bottom lip to hold back from exposing yourself. When she begins circling your clit you can’t help but to whimper a choked out, “fuck just like that,” she was doing so well already.

She seemed pleased by her work, letting out a moan that followed your own. She was getting off on your pleasure instead of her own at this point.

You are barely able to keep your pace on her clit anymore, so engulfed by the feeling of her rough fingers on your swollen clit. She removes her fingers from your clit to move your hand off of her own clit, moving it so your palm lay against her chest.

She returns her fingers back so that only you are being pleased by her. You couldn’t believe that this was the first time she had done it, she felt like she was made to touch you, circling your bud like it would bring her to salvation.

Words were barely at the forefront of your mind at this point but you needed to ask her, “di- did you do all of- fuckkkk- ju- just to fuck me?”

She pierces her bright blue eyes into yours to make herself clear, “I worship you,” she says as she dips her long, thick ring and middle fingers deep into your cunt, immediately inching your g spot. The palm of her hand grazing your clit to give just enough friction.

All you can muster up to respond with is a guttural scream that rips through you, causing to use the hand that was placed on the wall to cover your mouth quickly. “Shhhh pretty girl I know I know,” she coos.

You bring her fingers into your mouth for leverage, anything to keep you from losing all control. Her pace quickens as she feels your walls clenching around her dripping fingers. How the fuck does she know you’re close.

As you begin nearing your climax, your mind runs free from all morality, she begin corrupting you just the same, driving out what you knew and replacing it with only her.

You didn’t even know you were doing it, not until she moved her fingers out of your mouth to understand you, “abbyabbyabbyabbyabby” with your eyes rolled, head slack on the tiles you begin worshiping her, praising her ever being like a mantra.

What brought you back to consciousness was the heavy breath and the ringing of your own name in a mantra beside your ear. You had never repented before, but she had begun her reconciliation along with you. If this were to be your religion, you’d give into her over and over again. At your knees to serve her, punished at your wrong doings and give penance for your sins.

“Serve me with your completion, give your god what she deserves,” she demands. You couldn’t disobey your savior, she showed your needy body mercy, and you must obey her.

It all hits you like a wave, all you can see is white as your body trembles under her. You can’t recall screaming but she moves her hand over your mouth. Your entire body shakes as she rides you over your high, kissing your forehead as you bite into her fingers, never letting up on her pace until she knows you can’t take it anymore.

As all of your limbs give out she slowly moves her fingers out of your abused pussy, picking you up before you fall straight into the hard tiles. She gently places you onto the tiles in front of her, holding you by your waist as the water floods from above you.

You try to mumble out something but she stops you with a quick “shhh I’m going to take care of you,” as she begins to wash out your hair gently. You lean your head into the crook of her neck and she lays peppered kisses from your shoulder to your neck.

“Please don’t run off again…” you muster up as she threads her fingers through your hair, “you’re all I know.”

“You’re all I have.”

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson2

[pinkyqil]

Step by step | a.Putellas x j.Hermoso

Hidden secrets series

Warning: a lil angst,comfort,acl mention not really but yea

It was around midnight when jenni had received alexia messages. the moments she saw pictures of the ultrasound and pregnancy test. she went through five stages of different emotions.

She and the blonde woman had been trying for ages but had recently taken a break from ivf and each other for a while now.

But right now jenni knew alexia needed her more than ever even though she would never admit to it.

Jenni found herself staring down on her phone to reply too alexia message wanting to know if she was alright.

mi amor 💕 : ale ¿Estás bien? ¿Está todo bien?

A while later that she had sent her messages to alexia stil wanting for the other woman's reply. panic started to fuel her body as it been a few long hours since she's sent her messages at that moment.

And that how she found herself booking a 10 hour flight from mexico to spain. She needed to know that alexia was alright especially when her plate seems too be filled with a lot of stuff going on for her at the moment. Once she booked her flight she started to pack stuff that'll she probably would need. has her flight was in a few hours.

Finally arriving at the airport she checked her phone one last time to see if alexia had reply but was met with nothing.

The flight from mexico to spain was very hectic but jenni was able to manage through it.

Alexia on the other hand hadn't seen jenni's messages yet,has she refused to look at her phone one bit. Her heart wouldn't be able to handle whatever jenni wrote she thought.

But what she hasn't expected would be the knock on her front door. alexia wasn't expecting anyone and if she was,she would have known plus her mom and sister had spare keys to her place. She wasn't in the mood to get up and open the door but definitely had no choice as the knocking became louder and aggressive.

Jenni who was on the other side of the door honestly had no idea why she infront of alexia place this late.

she could've headed to her hotel but her mind wonder differ.

The moment alexia opened the door it was closed faster than she could make a goal. Her mind was all over the place,it couldn't be her head just playing random games with her or it was the hormones. Jenni was definitely not outside her house she was living in mexico for heaven sake alexia thought to herself.

Jen on the other side started speaking."Alexia please open the door all I want to do is talk you haven't been answering my messages".

oh she was an idiot alexia thought to herself again why couldn't she answer her. now she had to deal with this jenni was always some who worried a lot and went beyond doing things.

After giving herself a moment she finally opened the door inviting jenni in. they both sat in awkward silence.

Before one of them spoke up getting interrupted by the other trying to also get a word out.

both women found themselves laughing at their situation.

This time it was alexia who finally spoke up." I'm sorry for not responding or calling and instead letting it all on you expecting you to figure it out yourself i just needed a moment to myself cause the day I found out would also be the day i had let you know it was all too much for me to handle".

"oh ale it all alright i don't think would probably be able to deal with all that in one day you are definitely one strong woman". jenni said embracing the other woman into a hug.

"So what are you doing all the way in spain aren't you meant to be somewhere in mexico". she asked with a grin on her face.

"Do you really think I would have your hothead deal with all this alone you had me very worried when you didn't answer and i did the most logical thing anyone could think of".

"So traveling all the way too spain is the most logically thing you could think of instead of calling me". Jenni gave the woman across her the most unamused face when she had finished her sentence.

"Matter of fact don't answer that". alexia said with a smile on her face.

The couple found themselves embracing each other for some sort of comfort. jenni found herself cuddling into alexia from waist down getting a warm buzzing feeling.

"So where having a baby" jenni asked while looking up at alexia.

Alexia could only nod her head at the other woman's word. Too busy to say anything else jenni and alexia found themselves looking each other in the eyes, before she knows it she felt another pair of lips on hers. pulling her into a deep kiss.

Finally done they both pulled away too busy blushing like those rom com movies.

"Wanna go for a drive and get some food you must be really hungry after your flight". alexia asked jenni who quickly nodded.

The couple once again found themselves in the car enjoying a Pa amb tomàquet sandwiches one of alexia favorite also something she had been craving for.

"So does anybody else know".jenni found herself asking alexia a question that been on her mind all day.

"Nope only mi mamí".alexia said before taking another bite out of her sandwich.jenni nodded understanding what alexia meant.

"You know that your always welcomed to stay at my place that if you want too".

"What made you think that I would leave your stubborn head alone". jenni said snickering at alexia before they both busted out laughing knowing jenni was right. She would never leave alexia nor let her get loose.

After finishing eating up the remaining of their food.they both found themselves entwine their hands together and letting in the moment before going home.

They were going to figure out everything together step by step or would they ?

A/n: chap 2 finally done hope you all enjoy it has much has I did writing it,honestly proud of this bit ale and jen have it all figure out or there's more to it all. and as always opinion ideas,asks or anything you would like to see happen in the serie are always welcome 🫶

[mypearlsareclutched]

I Can't Survive

High By The Beach | Chapter Six

Modern!Aegon II x Original Female Character, Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character

After what happened on the beach, Mila is left wondering how this will effect her friendship with Aegon, and what this could mean for her future amongst the various Targaryens. But when she goes to sleep at night, whose blue eyes does she dream of?

Ain't nothing like the beach to get people feeling frisky. Is it just hot in Old Town or is it the She-Wolf and her scorned dragon bestie/ fuckbuddy?

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), PIV sex, Aegon getting domesticated, catching feelings, Aegon's tattoos, Modern!Westeros has big Tesco, if you're not British you won't get the big Tesco hype, beach vibes, prescription meds, smut, fuckin on the floor, oral (m receiving), fingering, body worship, fwb relationship in progress...

Word count | 5.6k

previous chapter // next chapter

Neither of them spoke about what happened on the beach. Neither of them wanted to. Like the tide sweeping up onto the sand before drifting away again, the moment was there and then it was gone.

After a while, Mila had gotten up off of the sand and went back into the house, collapsing onto the sofa and dozing off like she was operating on automatic. Before she drifted off, she distantly heard Aegon shuffling about, the creak of a bed and his snoring through the walls.

When the sun rose, Mila's eyes cracked open and she released a soft groan. Her head felt groggy after smoking weed last night on top of her slight hangover from the day before last, and she was groggy and miserable.

Rubbing her eyes, her body jolted as she remembered what happened last night.

Lying on the beach, the sand in her hair, laughing with Aegon... his hair in her fingers, his lips on her, his name on her lips as she came-

"Shit." Mila whispers to herself, sitting up, "Shit, shit, shit!"

She runs a hand through her hair, feeling her nerves rising as she remembers more and more of what happened last night. Distantly, plans clatter together, indicating that Aegon is awake and making food.

"Oh, I'm fucked." She sighs as she stands up, "So ridiculously, abysmally, astronomically fucked."

In the kitchen, the object of her fucked-ness stands by the stove, scrambling eggs absentmindedly. From the bright light of the autumnal sun beyond the horizon, Mila knows its near noon. He was probably still shaking off the weed last night, like her. Or spent extra time in bed to ponder his woes about their situation. Mila internally groans.

Leaning against the kitchen's archway as casually as she could, she hummed in greeting, "No music today?"

Aegon turns his head to look at her, giving her a tight smiles before shrugging, "Seems so."

It's awkward. Mila feels her stomach plummeting as the silence lingers, and she gnaws on the corner of her thumb as she approaches the blonde man. His head doesn't rise again, almost like he does not notice her. But she can tell from the way he stiffens that he can sense her approach.

"Aegon-"

"Did you see the big Tesco down the road?" Aegon cuts her off, not looking up from his eggs.

"Um... no?" Mila says warily, eyebrows furrowed.

"There's a big Tesco down the road."

"No kidding."

"You don't like big Tesco?"

"Who doesn't like a big Tesco..."

"We need stuff." He shrugs, plating the food, "These are the last of the eggs we picked up at the services, AKA the only real food we have here. We need milk, coffee, painkillers, toilet roll, you need some socks, we should grab cutlery that wasn't made before 9/11..."

"How very domestic." Mila murmurs, looking at her feet.

Aegon sighs, putting the plate down as he finally turns to her. Mila looks up to meet his eyes, and she can see him visibly soften. He scratches the back of his neck, looking over her sleepy appearance. Mila takes a second to look over him herself, eyes roving over his tousled hair to his worn Beatles T-Shirt and grey joggers.

He looks good...

"What happened last night doesn't have to mean anything." He says, "I care about you very much, and I want only good things for you. I am well aware that I am not a good thing."

"Hey-" Mila interrupts.

"Nuh, shush, I'm talking, zip it." Insists Aegon with a hand in the air. "We were high, and tired and stressed, and if I'm being honest, I've wanted to bury my head in between your legs since the second I saw you smile. But nothing has to happen. It's too messy, it's too complicated. And I'm happy being uncomplicated right now."

"So... it meant nothing?" Mila asks, unsure of what answer she hopes to hear.

"No." Aegon smiles, "But what it means will make my head explode, and then my brains will get in our eggs." He walks over to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Look, I... I just don't want to hurt you, Aeg."

"You could never hurt me." He says earnestly, "You're the best thing that's happened to me in a while."

Mila takes a shaky breath, letting him pass her on his way to the dining room. His smell hits her as he brushes past, causing Mila's knees to weaken beneath her. As he sets his food down, he smiles brightly again, as if their conversation never happened, "So, big Tesco? Half an hour?"

"Sounds good." Mila smiles weakly, grabbing her own plate and joining him.

With the limited clothes options, Mila decides to don a Gwayne centric outfit. His wild youth days must have truly been behind him, because all Mila could find in his wardrobe are very frat boy-ish, super tight jeans and neon tank tops.

"I bet younger Gwayne would think Aegon rules." Mila scoffs, eyeing a wifebeater covered in embroidered, glittery marijuana leafs.

She decides on choosing a blue, checkered shirt and a pair of washed out levi's. They both practically hung off of her, but she was not here to look sexy. She was here to heal.

And to shag her ex-boyfriends brother, apparently. Mila rolled her eyes at her own thought, rubbing her forehead.

Across the hallway, Aegon yells to her, "Ready to go? It's not a fucking fashion show, princess. Wear a burlap sack for all the rest of us care!"

"Piss off, Aeg!" Mila calls back, "Be down in a sec!"

"I'll be in the car!" Aegon groans, his heavy boots (courtesy of Gwayne's emo phase) stomp across the hardwood floors, the front door opening and shutting behind him.

With a look to the mirror across the room, Mila nodded to herself before grabbing Aegon's coast. A sudden jabbing pain in the centre of her head stops her, causing her to wince and press her hand to her head. Ignoring it, she heads out the house.

The car drive could have been avoided, as the Tesco was basically just down the street. But Aegon insisted that they wouldn't want to walk with their supplies.

"Are you planning on buying out a whole big Tesco?" Mila inquires, getting out the car and following after a practically-skipping Aegon.

"You don't seem to grasp the magnitude of big Tesco. Like, at all."

"You like big Tesco a lot, huh?" She laughs, finally catching up to him.

"Big Tesco is my holy land."

Once inside said big Tesco, Aegon was like a dog left to its own devices in a park. He grabbed Mila's hands to walk through the aisles, already getting way too hyped at all the different sections there were. He noticed a pharmacy nestled near the cosmetics aisle, and led Mila over there with a grimace.

Mila gives him a look, wondering what he could possibly need at the counter.

"Gotta pick up a prescription." He says, rolling his eyes as he leans his elbows on the counter. The pharmacist walks over, her eyes roving over Aegon. She gives him a flirtatious smile, and Mila has to physically resist rolling her eyes.

"Can I help you?" The pharmacist asks, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, hi, I need to pick up an emergency prescription, name is Aegon Targaryen." He makes an over exaggerated exasperated face, "Can't believe I forgot it, came on holiday and it just slipped my mind."

"That's alright, Mr Targaryen. Has this been prescribed by a medical professional?"

"Yeah, by three actually." Aegon laughs, "Dr Nettles Waters put it into some kind of emergency system, apparently. It's called something funny- Lor, Loz... Laura...? Lorazepam! That's it-"

"I've found it, Mr Targaryen." The pharmacist says, halting his rambling. Aegon grins as the pharmacist continues typing on her computer, "It says we need to write down a second name to verify. Your... girlfriend? needs to sign the receipt. Can I get a name?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at Mila as she slides over a form.

Aegon's face falls, "Oh, well- she's not my girlf-"

"Emiliana Stark." Mila states as she takes the offered pen and signs the form. Aegon raises his eyebrows at her, mouthing 'Emiliana?', and she glares at him.

"Alright, perfect, thank you." Says the pharmacist with a tight smile, taking the form with a hardly-hidden glare as she disappears to get the prescription.

"Emiliana Stark?" Aegon smirks.

"Got a problem with my name, Aegon Targaryen?" Mila teases, snatching the receipt and prodding his chest, "You owe me."

"My knight in shining armour." He smiles brightly, rapping his knuckles on the counter.

"I didn't realise you're on medication for anxiety." Mila says conversationally as she looks at the receipt.

Aegon shrugs, looking away, "Been struggling with addictions and the old mental health since I was like, thirteen? Nettles got it put into this system where I can get it anywhere in Westeros, how great is that? I mean, if I don't take it regularly, I can get into a bad head space. Apparently, I'm 'a risk to myself and others'." He rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively.

"Are you a risk to me? Should I be running for the hills?"

"You tried that, remember? I found you." Aegon winks.

The pharmacist returns, giving Aegon his medication and a small slip of paper. She gives him another flirtatious smile as she presses the paper to his hand, offering . Her phone number, nice going. Mila paints on a fake smile, crossing her arms. Aegon takes the prescription and the paper with pursed lips, thanking the woman before turning and walking away with Mila in tow.

As they walk away, Aegon slides the paper into the coat pocket of a passing man, unnoticed. Mila stifles a laugh, raising her eyebrows at the blonde man who smiles victoriously.

"Alright, now we can have fun." Aegon says, sending a wink to the pharmacist before grabbing Mila's hand.

Walking around Tesco with Aegon is like walking with a small, excitable child. Mila can only compare it to when she went shopping with Luke and Joff when Rhaenyra and Laenor went on a business trip. They definitely regretted giving Mila and their young sons access to their credit card when they came home to see their living room was full of bags of various sweets and pastries. Joff was in a food coma, Luke was bouncing on the walls, Mila was grounded.

Aegon is currently looking through the racks of clothes, trying to find something that would fit Mila. H alien sunglasses are perched on his nose, his second beatles shirt looking raggedy.

"You should grab new clothes, too." Mila states, taking a grey sweater Aegon offered her, "You can't just go around wearing your uncles band T's for the next... gods know how long we'll be here."

"I'm serving delinquent chic, leave me alone."

"You're twenty eight."

"Reliving my wild youth." Aegon smirks, grabbing her a couple of pairs of jeans in her size and throwing them into their already half-full trolley.

"I need underwear too." Mila sighs, walking over to the lingerie section.

"Hell yeah." Aegon wolf whistles as he picks up a pair of giant, beige panties, "These would look great on you."

"Shut up." Mila scoffs, pulling the material from him and tossing it back where it came from, "I'm suprised this isn't one of the places you're banned from."

"Don't jinx it."

Mila looks around , rolling her eyes as Aegon gives his opinions on various items. As she grabs a matching pair of lacy bra and panties, Aegon watches her, an unreadable glint in his eyes. She pretends not to notice, putting the underwear into their trolley, along with a few more sexier items. Nothing wrong with feeling sexy... Aegon clearly agrees.

They continue past the clothing section, walking around the food aisles as Aegon grabs various ingredients. Mila watches him as he dots around like stressed sports mom, his concentrated face eerily similar to Rhaenyra's.

"Should we get booze?" Mila asks as she looks at the wine.

"I'm T total." Aegon shrugs, "But I don't mind if you grab some." But Mila puts the wine back, resisting her own urge.

"How are we paying for this, by the way?" She looks at his growing collection of food, clothes, another pair of neon crocs, and a literal microwave. Aegon pats his coat pockets, pulling out a gold credit card. Mila furrows her brows at it.

"It's Viserys'." He explains.

"What?" Mila's eyes bulge out of her skull, covering the card in his hand, "Are you kidding? Stealing from your own dad, come on, Aegon!"

"Chill, Em." Aegon chuckles, "If he hasn't noticed it's missing by now, then he never will."

"How long have you had this." She demands.

Aegon counts on his fingers, pretending like he does not know exactly how long he has had it, "Four years."

"Aegon!"

"Lik I said, if he hadn't noticed now, then he never will. It's been years, most dude's would notice by now."

"He's basically a vegetable."

"Exactly." Aegon winks, pocking the credit card again, "He has like fifty, and he owns the most lucrative business in the seven kingdoms, he probably still thinks this is under one of his cadillacs seats."

"You're trouble." Mila sighs, pushing the trolley with Aegon in tow.

He follows after her, letting her push the trolley along. She winces again, putting her hand to her head. Aegon notices, furrowing his brow as his hand rests on her shoulder.

"How's your head?" He asks, concerned.

"Would it be wildly inappropriate to say 'I haven't had any complaints yet'?"

"Yes." Aegon chuckles, "Considering that the last person you gave head to was my brother, and the last person who gave you head was me-"

Mila shushes him, pressing a hand to his mouth as a middle aged woman eyes them from across the aisle, "I'm going to tape your mouth shut."

"There are other ways to shut me up." Aegon murmurs, his words muffled by her hand, eyebrows waggling. Mila rolls her eyes, half-heartedly punching his shoulder. He staggers dramatically, pouting.

"Drama queen." Mila nudges him out of the way, pushing the trolley as he jogs after her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he kisses her temple.

He kept a hand on her waist as she pushed the trolley, offering a conforting presence as the pain in her head continues.

"Here." Aegon grabs handfuls of painkillers, showing them to her proudly, "Theser will help."

"Hm." Mila smiles.

"Withdrawal is a bitch. Two days ago you went on one hell of a bender, your brain is kicking your ass right now."

"Feels like it." As Aegon piles more painkillers into the trolley, Mila grabs some soap and toiletries, before looking at the cosmetics section, "I'm getting makeup."

"Yeah, wonderful time to get all dolled up, Em." Aegon quips, watching her as she grabs various items.

"Maybe you'll let me do yours, make you look all perdy."

Aegon flicks her nose, taking her hand in his as he drags her away from the cosmetic section, rolling his eyes playfully at her giggles.

Once stocked up on everything they could possibly need, and paid for it with Viserys Targaryen's stolen credit card, the two of them headed back to the beach house.

They unpacked slowly, as it appears Aegon has short term memory loss and got excited with every purchase he remembered he bought. Mila watches him from across the kitchen, putting away boxes of pasta and rice.

"Oh! Almost forgot." Aegon says as he rummages through one of the bags, pulling out a little black box. He throws it to Mila with a grin, and she rolls her eyes when she realises it's a pay-as-you-go phone.

"What's this?" She asks, an eyebrow raised.

"A pay-as-you-go!" Aegon grins.

"I can see that." Mila laughs, "Why?"

"So you can call your brother." Aegon shrugs. Mila's smile drops slightly, feeling guilt rise in her chest as she remembers that Cregan doesn't know where she is.

"Oh gods." She sighs, tearing open the box, "He's going to be so worried."

"Hey." Mila looks up as Aegon stands, covering her shaking hands with his own, "Don't beat yourself up about it. It's been a tough few days, you've been through a lot. Just give him a quick call when you feel up to it. I've got to call Halaena as well, and my mother probably. But it's late now, let's call them in the morning."

"Okay..." She sighs, gnawing on her lower lip.

"Want a distraction?"

"Behave." Mila rolls her eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Stark." Aegon gasps, clutching imaginary pearls, as he walks back over to the bags. He pulls out her various makeup items, lifting them up, "Wanna make me all perdy?"

Mila's smile returns, putting the phone down and extending her hand to take the makeup from him. Aegon passes it over, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically.

"Sit down, Targaryen."

Aegon chuckles, sitting down in front of her. She decides to forego using foundation and blush, as the lucky Targaryen bastard already looks airbrushed, so she grabs an eyeshadow palette and looks over the colours.

"How does green sound?"

"Sounds very on brand." Aegon smirks, referring to the Hightower's obsession with green. Mila rolls her eyes, unwrapping a brush and rucking Aegon's hair behind his ears to get better access to his big, blue eyes. He smiles at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

Mila leans forward, swiping the brush covered in green powder over Aegon's eyelid. He flinches a bit, but she presses a hand to his cheek gently, and he settles down. She takes her time applying the eyeshadow, admiring all the little details of his face, all his microexpressions. The freckles across his nose, the small scar on his lip, his long eyelashes that are too blonde to be noticed at first. Every time she drags the brush along his eyelid his eyelids twitch, and everytime she caresses the skin of his cheek with the pad of her thumb, his lips twitch into a microscopic smile.

"Alright, I'm going to use white eyeliner to do little leaves next to your eyes."

"Cute." Aegon nods, keeping his eyes closed as she puts down the eyeshadow pallette down and picks up the liquid liner.

Mila presses her hand to his head to keep him still, focusing on the eyeliner. Aegon's eyes open slightly, looking up at her through his eyelashes. His eyes remain on her, focused on her biting on her lip slightly in concentration. A small smile appears on his lips, though he tries to hide it when she refocuses on his face.

Once she was satisfied with the slightly smudged vines and leafs, she hums, clicking the eyeliner shut as Aegon blinks up at her.

"Am I the prettiest princess?" He asks with a toothy grin.

"You are." Mila laughs, kissing his nose. It was ike second nature, even though they've only known each other for less than two weeks, Mila felt so safe and at peace with him. Aegon smiles up at her, his hand remaining on her waist as she admires her work.

Her fingers come up to tuck his blonde hair behind his ears, and he leans into her touch slightly. His eyes flutter closed as she runs her fingers through his hair, and they remain sitting on the kitchen floor, sharing space and gentle caresses.

This means nothing. Mila tries to tell herself, Nothing. Definitely.

Aegon made spaghetti, and Mila was once again pleasantly surprised by his culinary skills.

They chat pleasantly, joking around about their pasts and making wild plans for their future.

Aegon has decided he wants to be a tattoo artist, showing Mila the ink he has acquired over the years. Mila was most impressed by the dragon covering his hip down to his knee, and the golden retriever on his forearm. Sunfyre, Aegon explains, his smile slightly sad.

When asked about what she wanted to be, Mila had to think for a second. With a sad smile of her own, she just tells Aegon about her dream of wanting to open a bookshop. Since she was a little girl she wanted to have a tiny, old bookshop somewhere secret, her own little escape. Aegon smiles as he watches her describe her dream.

They're sat close enough at the dining table that their knees brush together, and as Mila goes on a tangent about her bookshop dream, Aegon's hand covers her own on the table, absentmindedly rubbing circles over her skin. Mila's voice fades off, looking down at his hand.

Aegon stiffens, immediately going to remove his hand. But Mila catches it, intertwining their fingers. They share a look, the air tense.

"This doesn't mean nothing, does it?" Mila asks, though she knows the answer.

"No." Aegon sighs, "I think it means a lot."

What happened between them on the beach was like the tide sweeping up onto the sand before drifting away again, the moment was there and then it was gone.

But just like the waves, it repeats its accent towards them.

Standing up from the table, Mila walked around it with slow, unhurried steps. Aegon watched her with an unreadable expression, body tense with anticipation.

Lifting her leg up, she climbed into Aegon's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands braced her hips, keeping her sat atop him. He looks up at her longingly, eyes wide. He opens his mouth to speak, but she shushes him, running a hand through his hair. He bums appreciatively, and she presses her forehead to his.

As she pressed her lips to his, the world around them disappeared.

Aegon's hold on her tightens a she kisses him, his large hands gripping onto her as a lifeline as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Their lips dance together, soft and romantic.

It takes Mila's breath away, her fingers coming up to run through the silver tresses of the man below her. Aegon holds her close, his tongue caressing her lower lip, asking for permission. She grants it, their tongues meeting in a sweet, passionate dance.

He stands, lifting her up gently to wrap her legs around his waist, waking her back towards the rest of the house before she stops him.

"Can't wait." Mila says breathlessly, "No bedroom. Right now."

"Fuck." Aegon groans, pulling her down to the ground, their lips reconnecting feverishly.

His hands pull up her shirt, crawling down her body to distribute open mouthed kisses across her belly and up her sternum.

Tugging on her bra, he stares up at her wildly, "Off, now."

Giggling breathlessly, Mila obliges, sitting up to pull her shirt off her head and fiddle with the clasp of her bra behind her. Aegon lies between her spread legs, biting long her waist, his hands kneading her flesh.

Once the offending lace of her bra is removed, Aegon pushes her back down, lying over her to kiss the skin of her breasts. His tongue dances along her nipple, pulling it into his mouth to suck on it gently.

"Fuck, Aeg." Mila moans, grabbing a fistful of his blonde hair. He hums around her nipple, his other hand caressing the unattended tit.

Mila bucks her hips up, feeling his hard length beneath his jeans.

"Clothes. Off." She demands, pushing his chest so he can be rid of his shirt. Aegon complies, sitting on his haunches to lift off his shirt. Once it is gone and discarded to the side, Mila focuses on his torso.

Aegon's face flushes, clearly unused to being seen naked lately. Mila eyes him, taking notice of his softer body. A year of getting better had turned his slender, borderline malnourished body into a healthier, almost pudgy form. It was clear from how Aegon stiffened he was worried she would be uncomfortable, knowing Aemond was lean and tall and built.

But Mila just wanted to grab onto Aegon and do unholy things to him.

She pushes him against the hardwood floors, crawling over him. He avoids her eyes with a blush across his cheeks, opening his mouth to apologise before Mila presses a kiss to his lips, her hands running over his cheeks before descending down his neck and shoulders. As her finger tips drag along his pale skin, her lips follow. Aegon shudders as she lays butterfly kisses over every inch of skin.

"Beautiful." Mila murmurs, kissing the soft spot between his pecks. He groans, and she moves her lips over to his nipples. As she begins biting and licking them, her hand travels further down south to palm his bulge.

Aegon chokes out a gasp, squirming below her as she pays attention to his sensitive nipples whilst she cups him in her hand, "Fuck, Mila, please..."

"Please what, baby?"

"I... I need you." Aegon admitted, "Like, right now."

Mila grins, pressing another kiss to his collarbone before moving further down his body, unbuckling his belt with deft fingers. Above her, Aegon breathes heavily, watching her with blown out pupils.

She frees his cock, taking her lower lip between her teeth as she watches it slap against his stomach, hard and flush and leaking. Mila has to resist moaning at the sight, leaning over and licking Aegon's cock from base to tip. Aegon groans, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Mila wraps a hand around his the base, her other hand smoothing over Aegon's thigh as she takes the tip between her

Writhing, Aegon's hand reaches down to collect Mila's curls into his fist, holding it away from her face so he can watch her. His lips release groans and breathy praises.

"Gods, feel so good."

"Just like that, baby."

"So beautiful, taking my cock in your mouth like a pro."

Mila eats up the praises, sucking his member with more fervour. Spit pools around his base, rolling down his balls.

"Baby, baby, stop." Aegon pleads, and Mila raises her head instantly. Giving him a concerned look, she runs a hand over his thigh as he holds one arm over his eyes, chest heaving.

"Are you okay, Aeg?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Aegon chuckles breathlessly, "You're just... too good, I can't lie. Was about to cum like some kind of inexperienced teenager."

"Nothing wrong with that." Mila smiles, nuzzling her cheek against his thigh, "You made me finish pretty quickly on the beach."

"Yeah but you're a girl, I could make you finish like fifty times tonight and I'll be out for the count after one. Especially with that mouth of yours."

"Is that your plan? Making me cum fifty times tonight?"

"No." Aegon says, pulling his arm from his eyes to look down at her, "I plan to make you cum fifty times . Then, I' going to sleep, and then i'll make you cum at least another thirty times before dawn."

"Cocky."

"Experienced." Aegon sits up, cupping her cheeks to lift her up for a kiss, wrapping an arm around her. They kiss before separating to tear off their jeans', Aegon sliding them down his thighs as Mila shucks hers off and tossing them as far as she can throw them.

She practically pounces back onto him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull him on top of her.

"Shit." Aegon stops, lifting himself up, "We don't have condoms."

"I have an IUD." Mila smiles, pecking his cheek, "And I got checked a week before I went to . I'm clean."

Aegon grins, pursing his lips appreciatively as he resumes kissing along her collarbone. Mila playfully tuts at his silence, dragging a nail over his shoulder.

"What about you?" She asks, "Are you clean, Mr Man-Whore?"

"Hmmm, I don't know. Does syphilis just go away?"

"You're so not funny."

"I'm hilarious." Aegon groans, hiking her legs up his waist as he attaches himself to her neck again, "But I am clean. I fucked around but never without protection. I was a sensible man-whore."

"You're about to fuck without protection now." Mila says with a raised eyebrow.

"This is different." He insists as he reaches down to line himself with her entrance.

Mila takes a sharp breath as she feels the hot tip of him press against her, coating itself in the wetness found in her most intimate place. Aegon takes a sharp breath at the feeling, rubbing his tip along her slit teasingly.

"So wet." Aegon praises, biting his lip as he looks her in the eyes, "All this for little old me?"

"Don't get cocky now." Mila chuckles breathlessly, though it turns into a low moan as he pushes into her, spearing her on his fat cock.

"If you keep making noises like that, my ego will never recover." He murmurs, though his eyes fall down to where they join, his breaths heavy as he pushes further and further in.

As his hips meet hers, Mila lets out a shaky moan, feeling so full. Aegon places his hand over her cheek, pulling her face so she looks him in the eyes, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah... feels good." She smiles, her own hands running through his hair and over his shoulders. Aegon practically purrs, nuzzling his head into her neck as he pulls out and thrusts back in gently, causing them both to gasp out.

"Shit..." Aegon sighs, grabbing her hips to hold her in place as he fucks into her, pace quickening with every jolt of ecstasy their coupling brings them. Mila wraps her legs around his hips, meeting his thrusts with her own movements of her hips.

Aegon's grip on her hips tightens, his fingernails pressing screscent shaped indents into her flushed skin as he keeps every inch of both of their bodies attached, fucking her with small, hard thrusts to keep her warmth pressed to him.

"Feels s'good." Aegon groans, lifting his head up to watch Mila's face, every pleasured contort of her face motivating him to fuck her better, grinding his pelvis against her clit.

"Oh, fuck, Aeg..." Mila sighs, eyelids fluttering.

"Need more, baby?" He asks, kissing her cheek. She nods, and Aegon smirks, "Harder or faster?"

"Harder... and faster..." She breathes, a small smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

"Good girl."

Aegon grabs her ankles, pushing them up to rest on his shoulder as he leans his head down and begins thrusting into her faster with urgency. She moans loud, arching her back as his cock finds her g-shot, pummelling it with every sharp thrust.

"Fuck, right there, just like that..." Mila rambles, one hand gripping onto Aegon's waist and the other twisting into his hair.

Aegon groans, his fingernails scratching across the floorboards as he tries to find purchase, fucking into her wildly. Leaning further down, and pushing Mila's knees further down in the process, Aegon rests a hand next to her head, the other reaching down to flick at her clit.

Mewling, Mila shudders as she peaks, her eyes fluttering closed as her cunt clenches around Aegon. He groans as he feels her tighten, smiling wildly at her.

"There you go, pretty girl." Aegon breathes, "Look at you. Such a mess on my cock. I'm not done yet, sweetheart, I know you can give me another one."

Mila gasps as he continues to pound into her, his deft fingers playing with her clit and making her see stars, her body overwhelmed by pleasure. She shakes her head, gasping and moaning beneath him.

"I can't, I can't..." She insists, though her body pushes through overstimulation and creeps closer and closer to another orgasm.

"Yes you can beautiful. I can feel it, you're doing so well. Gonna make you cum again, aren't I?"

"Yes! Yes, please, fuck!" Mila whines, tears shining her eyes as she looks up at the beautiful sight of Aegon fucking her, "You feel so good, Aegon."

"Fuck..." He breathes, eyes rolling back as his hips stutter at the sound of his name on her lips, "Gods you're too good. Gotta feel you cum again, feels so fucking good when you cum on my cock, baby. You gonna cum for me?"

Mila nods vigorously, gripping onto Aegon's forearm beside her as her climax gets closer and closer. With a scream of his name, she coats him in herself as she finished for the second time.

Aegon leans back slightly, sitting on his haunches as he holds her knees over his hips, pulling her onto him over and over as he gets closer to his own end. He hangs his head slightly, mouth agape as his stomach flexes with the effort. After a few more pumps, he shudders and groans out Mila's name, pumping her full of his spend with three more shaky thrusts.

Sated, Aegon collapses against Mila, his head resting in the crook of her neck. His cool breath fans her heated neck, and she runs a hand over his ruffled hair as she closes her eyes and catches her breath.

She can feel him place a gentle kiss on his shoulder, his hands soothing over the indents his nails made on her hips and thighs. Mila

"Now, I'm not so good with numbers..." Aegon pants, lifting himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at Mila. She raises an eyebrow, pushing some of her hair off of her sweaty forehead. Aegon drags his lips down her stomach, eyes twinkling, "You're at two orgasms, you better keep count..."

AN// Horniness wins again. Hope y'all don't mind the slightly chubby Aegon aspect of this, I'm just such a whore for that. Let me know what you think! Next chapter is currently being edited and then it'll be out sooooon!! Mwah <3

Lula x

[steddieas-shegoes]

just make the tik tok

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the scenes'

rated t | 880 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, modern au, frankie is anti-tik tok

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Joining Tik Tok was a mistake.

"I cannot believe you thought having a band Tik Tok would be a good idea," Frankie said to Jeff as they watched Eddie and Gareth doing some stupid dance. "Look at them. They're stupid. You made them more stupid."

"I just thought it was a good way for people to see behind the scenes of the tour. Everyone agreed!" Jeff shook his head as he saw Gareth lose his balance and grab onto Eddie's shoulder to stabilize himself.

"The last one got 300,000 likes. We gained followers who never listened to our stuff before. They may be stupid, but my plan isn't."

Frankie sighed, but didn't argue further. Jeff was right. He just hoped he never had to do any ridiculous dances or trends to keep people interested in their music.

****

"You guys have gained thousands of followers on all platforms since you started being active on Tik Tok. It may be wise for all of you to be on camera," one of the producers of their album suggested.

"Not happening." Frankie shook his head. "They get what they want from those two idiots."

"Hey!" Gareth and Eddie yelled in unison.

Jeff waved them off. "If Frankie doesn't wanna do them, he doesn't have to. We agreed that this was a voluntary thing."

"Yes, we did. But we're seeing growth and there's been a trend of comments asking where he is in some of the videos."

"I'm in some videos," Frankie crossed his arms. "That stage tour one. I was setting up my bass."

"But people wanna see you. They wanna get to know you, feel connected. That's the beauty of this era. We can make fans feel like they're truly a part of the band, which leads them to sharing and buying." One of the managers of the PR team said. "It's good for your brand if you're just as involved as they are."

"I didn't know we needed to have a brand beyond metal band." Frankie rolled his eyes and stood up from the couch he was sitting on. "I'm gonna head to the studio and work on music. Which is our job."

No one tried to stop him.

****

"There's a woman who keeps asking where you are." Eddie shakes his phone in front of Frankie's face. "She thinks you're leaving the band and is begging you to stay."

"Tell her I'm not leaving the band." Frankie sat down at the table on the tour bus with his bottle of beer and the shrimp leftover from catering at their show. "Though the urge is strong when Gareth keeps drinking my beers."

"She's hot," Eddie continued, seemingly ignoring Frankie's words. "You should make a video so she knows you're not going anywhere."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing a fuckin' Tik Tok."

Eddie held the phone out to him, showing him the woman's profile.

She was hot.

And apparently only ever really concerned with where Frankie was. She'd even sent a DM asking if he was okay.

"Fine. How do I make one?" Frankie asked with a sigh.

"Seriously? We beg you for two months to make one and it's a hard no, but one hot girl wants you to be in one and you're ready to become a social media influencer?" Eddie teased.

"As if you didn't make an entire series of videos rating new pop songs because Steve asked you to."

Frankie grabbed Eddie's phone, ignoring his flailing to try to grab it back.

The app was already open, and he found it surprisingly easy to start recording a video.

"Hey everyone. I'm not leaving the band. I just hate social media shit. I'm fine. I'm not mad at anyone. Except Gareth who owes me 83 beers from stealing mine over the last six years. Yes, I've counted." Frankie sees a timer counting down and decides to give an awkward wave with his other hand before stopping the video. "That should be fine, right?"

He didn't wait for Eddie's response before saving and posting it.

"Uh. Usually they look at them before we post." Eddie explained as he took his phone back.

"They can take it down later if they want."

'That's...not really how this shit works, dude."

Frankie shrugged and continued eating his shrimp for a few minutes until Jeff came to sit next to him, calm as ever.

"You made a video." He yawned, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah."

"It's got 54,000 likes already."

"Can't help that I'm charming."

"It hasn't been that many beers!" Gareth yells from his bunk, half-asleep.

"Your girl messaged," Eddie handed Frankie the phone with a smirk.

Glad you're not going anywhere 💗

"You better get her number, dude." Jeff nudged his arm. "She wants you so bad."

****

Nearly a year later, and more Tik Toks than he ever hoped to be a part of, Frankie smiled down at the VIP section for their sold out show at Madison Square Garden.

Sasha stood there smiling back at him, singing along to all their songs.

After the show, he'd probably be pulled into a stupid video with Eddie or Gareth, but he didn't really complain anymore. Not when those stupid videos were responsible for bringing him his future wife.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Never Say Die

You are here | part two | part three | part four

I can’t get this concept out of my head steve being a prisoner instead of hopper and coming back home.

Steve sat in the back of the car, unsure what to expect. Six months. Six months he hasn’t seen his friends, who he considered to be his family if anything. He wished he could say that it had been six months since the last time he seen his parents but that would be a lie. Strange how he could place the date and times when he last seen his real family but yet he didn’t know when he last seen his parents. It was a chilling thought. He doesn’t remember being this nervous about seeing his parents for the first time in a long, long time.

Then again this was under different circumstances. Last time he seen Dustin, Robin and Erica it had looked like he had died. The last time he seen Hopper and Joyce, both of them had been trying to reach them from god knows where with their own personal Russian translator. Now, when he steps out of this car his new life will begin. One that was much different compared to before he “died”.

He was stunned if anything. He doesn’t know how he survived. He had thought the torture he had endured at star court, tied to a chair was bad. Little did he know, the Russians got very creative in their homeland. His body sometimes still aches from his time there. Though, he’s been through hell and back nothing was more scarier then seeing his family again. What if they were different, what if they didn’t want him back? All questions that were bothering him. All questions that disappear the the second he he sees all of the kids gathered together in a drive way. Smiling and laughing as they all help the Byers unpack their boxes into a nicer home then what they had lived in before.

He smiles to himself. He’s unsure if they were told he was coming. He stops the agent in front of him from stepping out. To break the moment he was watching. Lucas was laughing as he carefully holds one hand on the back of Max’s back. Crutches under her armpits as she leans on on foot. Her other leg in a cast, along with one of her wrists. Both of them talking to each other in a way that told him they made it through the little dispute from six months ago. Off to the right of them, stepping out of the van carrying boxes was Jonathan. Handing them to Nancy, who was smiling brightly up at him. Mouth moving as she talked. Next to them, in a bean bag sat a boy with long silky hair. Obviously stoned off his ass as he wore a button down shirt eating pizza. Steve wanted to hear some of what they were saying, he pulls his window down just a smidge to catch Jonathan laughing.

“You know, the pizza was supposed to motivate you helping us carry our stuff in.” Hes looking at the other with a smirk. Steve chuckles softly to himself before his eyes move over seeing Will sitting on the hood of a car. Talking to El, who seemed to have lost all process in her hair growth. Both of them huddled together and talking with serious expressions. Both of their faces cracking into smiles when Mike comes walking over to them. There’s something awkward going on there but it seemed like they were all friends.

The front door of the house opens further, and Steve’s heart stops. Breathing not in his dictionary anymore as he watches Robin Buckley walk out with flying hands. God it was so her, though what takes him by surprise was the fact she was wearing his letterman jacket. How the hell she got a hold of it was beyond him. Then again Dustin must have told her where the key of his house was hidden. Let her in and it warms his heart in a way that doesn’t even make sense to know she wanted something that was his. Her hair is in a Bob and she’s yelling at someone. That someone showing his presence, walking out behind her. Steve’s in a near heart attack and near tears when he sees Henderson walking out with a cap on. Hair styled in the way that he had showed him, a hat firmly placed on the top of his head. Mouth moving a mile per minute. Talking right back to Robin. Even from here Steve knew the kid was being obnoxious.

“Come on Robin. It’s not that bad, right Eddie.” The boy turns. Looking for confirmation from Eddie the freak Munson. And Steve really shouldn’t be that shocked that Dustin would find a friend in a drug dealer. If there was trouble in Hawkins, Henderson sure as hell would find it. Steve’s about to freak out, but stops when he sees the amused look on the metal heads face. His hair was much longer then what he remembered it being.

“Sorry dude. Im with Robbie on this one.” Eddie moves a hand playfully moving the others head on his shoulders. None of them noticing the suspicious car on the other side of the street. Next came Joyce, whose hand was wrapped tightly in Hoppers. That was not a shock to see at all. Both of them laughing as they look around at the children. Like Steve had.

As expected, Hoppers eyes land on the car. His face going a bright red as he lets go of Joyce’s hand. Storming forward catching everyone’s attention. Breaking the peace as he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. “Get the hell away from my property. Don’t need the god damn government spying on my daughter. Last warning, next time I’ll -“ his words die in his throat as Steve steps out of the car. Hoppers back blocking the view of everyone behind him.

Steve looks at him with a amused look, holding his side. Body still recovering from his stint in another country. “Wow, nice welcoming home gift hopper.” He laughs. Coughing a little from the bruised rib. Though the bruised rib is nearly the least of his worries as Hopper pulls him into a bear hug.

“Never got a chance to thank you for saving Joyce and the kids. Considering the fact you fucking died.” Hopper gruffly rasps. “Everyone’s going to freak you know.” He warns.

“I know.” Steve says softly. Stepping back with a tight smile.

“Hopper what’s going on?” Joyce is now walking over. Obviously warning the kids to go inside. All of them complaining and bickering as they do. Steve could hear them. Her face pulls into a shocked expression when she sees Steve. “Oh my god.” She gasps as she moves nearly tackling him.

“What is it mom?” Jonathan’s voice is heard from the van.

“Everyone inside now.” Joyce yells. Helping hopper hide steve from everybody. They knew that the second they all seen him, the neighbors attention would be all over them. Something that they didn’t need was for everyone talking about how a whole group of people started sobbing in the middle of the drive way. That and Steve Harrington was supposed to be dead. Word got around, that was all they would need.

When he hears the front door closing Joyce finally looks at him. Looks right through him actually. “Oh god what did they do to you.” She sounded in pain as her hand cups his face. All of them still standing in the middle of the road. Only remembering where they were when a car try’s coming through. Hopper quickly thinks as he pulls off his ugly Hawaiian shirt. Quickly tossing it over Steve’s head. Who starts to gag.

“Oh my god you stink. I shared a cell with a guy who had stomach issues and you somehow stink more then our toilet.” He gags, being dragged up the driveway. Letting Joyce’s hand wrap around his as she moves him to what he assumes is the front door.

“Shut up-“ hopper rasps out.

“Honey, everyone’s going to freak out. Are you ready for this?” Joyce sounded like she was crying herself. Hand shaking in his. Steve felt like his world was just beginning again. Rotating, revolving whatever the earth does. It was happening again for him.

“Yeah.. yeah I’m ready.”

Im thinking about doing a part two though I’m unsure. If I did write more, it would be eventual Steddie. I don’t know if I should though 😭 should I?

[theseeingfawn]

Hi Everyone, I have been working on a small town Elriel fic for awhile now and finally decided to post. This is my first time writing fan fiction so please be gentle with me.

Summary:

Elain Archeron, beloved sweetheart of the quaint town of Hewn Hills, yearns for a life beyond the constraints and expectations placed upon her by her family and community. Azriel Rosehall, a captivating yet misunderstood outsider, struggles with the prejudices of the town as he endeavors to forge his own destiny. Drawn to each other by an undeniable connection, Elain and Azriel are determined to be together, even if it means bringing trouble to the charming small-town. “Everything that's worth having is some trouble. - L.M. Montgomery

Chapter 1: Matchmaker Mayhem | Read on A03

Elain

It's official, this is the worst date I have ever been on. It doesn't make sense. The man is gorgeous, almost devilishly so. I've heard nothing but praise about his charm and wit. I've even seen it myself when he didn't think I was looking. But, the man is a nervous wreck and awkward . Or is it me? Maybe we are just feeding off each other's horrible vibes creating a vortex of our own personal hell. I had been reluctant when my sister all but demanded I go on a date with her friend Lucien. For the last couple of years, all Feyre could talk about is how great Lucien is and how funny and on and on and on . It was almost nauseating. I felt like Feyre was close to hiring a skywriter to let the world know that I was destined for her best friend. Ever since she married Rhysand she has taken up the mantle of matchmaker. So, to spare myself from further harassment I relented. Sure, I knew Lucien, but we have never had a meaningful conversation. Nothing other than pleasantries. I also work hard to keep him at arm's length, despite how often we are forced to interact. I see I was right to keep my distance. He seems as reluctant to be here as I am. I almost feel sorry for him… almost .

I'm glad I had the foresight to pick Velaris as our meeting spot and not Hewn Hills, the small town in the suburbs, where we live. I adore Hewn Hills but it is full of nosy nellies and busybodies. My baby sister is the biggest busybody of them all. So, when I suggested my favorite upscale restaurant in the heart of the city, Lucien readily agreed. It would seem he isn’t a big fan of all the meddling either. Though, I assume for different reasons. Thankfully, no one we know is here to witness our nightmare of a date. It didn't make sense. Despite knowing Feyre for years, and serving on our town council together, Lucien doesn't seem to know a thing about me. Well, other than surface level stuff. I sighed internally, of course he doesn't know much about me. My sisters do not truly know me. They only see the version of me that they wish to see, not the real me. No one really did .

I sit here staring off into the distance like I'm lost in a vision, imagining the bubbly young waitress will come back to end my misery. Really, how many awkward silences must I suffer through? As if reading my mind, Lucien broke the quiet tension with a question. “So, you like to garden? What vegetables do you grow,” Lucien asked with the enthusiasm of a root canal patient.“I actually don't grow vegetables, just flowers and herbs for my shop. Vegetables are much more difficult to grow than people realize.” He nodded. Please, where is the waitress.Then it occurred to me, I could use the bathroom and get away. Maybe I could slip out the window and run. What would he do? Tell my sister I gave him the slip? I'd pay good money to see that. No one would believe him. Yes, sneaking out is the answer. I feel like I've won the lottery for coming up with this brilliant idea. “Excuse me, I am just going to freshen up,” I say with syrupy sweetness. I hope I look graceful and not like I am barreling toward the back of the restaurant like I am fleeing the scene of a crime, but I doubt it. Once behind the closed door of the single occupant bathroom I take my first deep breath of the evening. I look around but there is no window, just a floor to ceiling mirror. Son of a bitch. I sigh and gaze at my reflection searching for an answer. Maybe it was my appearance that rendered him stupid. I’ve heard all my life that I’m beautiful. Not the polite kind of beautiful that every mother dotes onto their daughters. But, the type of beauty that could be used. Before she died, my mother dressed me up like her own personal Barbie doll. Taking personal credit for my appearance and awkwardly telling anyone who would listen that I got it from my mama. I cringe just thinking about it. Even my father had dragged me along to client dinners to dangle me in front of prospective clients like a juicy carrot. My sister Nesta is always watching my back, weary of everyone's intentions. Feyre, the bane of my existence at the moment, all but pimped me out to the dullest man in Hewn Hills because she thought her friend's happiness was more important than mine. Just a pawn to be used to make her life more exciting.

That's not entirely fair.

I know I’m seen as a goodie goodie, a pushover. Maybe I am, I caved to Feyre's demands after all. My sisters love to remind me how I am too sweet for my own good. A chaste virginal angel that they must protect at all costs. My reflection taunts me. Not a hair out of place, a flawless exterior that was pleasing to the eye. But, what had that gotten me? A failed engagement. A cage of my own making. Putting everyone else first and myself second. I shake away the bitterness, burying it deep down. It could be worse. At least Lucien is polite and respectful. I could do this, I could muster some enthusiasm and carry on with this date. No matter how much I wanted to shrink into myself. He is just a man and once it was over I could tell Feyre I had given it my best effort but we weren't a love match. Though I knew I didn't give Lucien my best, in many ways I blame him for what happened with Graysen. I just wanted tonight to be over with so I could go home and binge watch tv without a bra on.

With a new sense of purpose, I step back into the bustling restaurant and head toward the table. Lucien has his back to me as he chats on the phone, “you don't understand Jurian. She's so… so… meek, boring even. I don’t know why Feyre keeps insisting we’re soul mates. I know, she is beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen but she is dull , a snoozefest. Just call me in five minutes with a fake emergency so I can bow out.” Stunned, I dropped my head in defeat. Well, I couldn't blame him for wanting out of the world's most awkward first date. But, to call me meek and boring is just mean. I fought the urge to cry. No need to spill tears over Lucien Vanserra. Besides, it's not like he is the sly and charming man I've heard everyone drone on about. He is the snoozefest. He has barely said a word to me all evening. He is the headliner of the snoozefestival. How dare he!!!

I slide back into my chair and slap on the biggest fake smile I can muster. “Has our waiter stopped by?” I asked, pretending that I don't want to kick him in the shin. “No, not yet. This place is getting packed. It's hard to even hear what you're saying, we can just listen to the music and Ow!” Lucien hunches over and grabs his leg. “Oh my, I'm so sorry! I went to cross my legs but didn't realize you were so close,” I feigned innocence as I bat my eyes at him. I turn my head from his scowl before I start laughing. My eyes peruse the growing crowd of people streaming through the door and there he is.

His dark hair swept back off of his face, dressed in an immaculate black suit that hugs his sculpted form. I don't let myself admit this often but I have a tiny, itty bitty crush on Rhysand's mysterious brother, Azriel . Even his name is beautiful. I have only interacted with him at family functions but the sight of him alone is enough to make me swoon. He is always busy working some sort of mysterious job. I never get a straight answer on what it is that he does because it is all very hush hush. I caught bits and pieces from eavesdropping on conversations when no one was paying attention to me. They rarely pay attention to me. I know it involves surveillance work and traveling, which only adds to his allure. I like to pretend he is a spy like James Bond or even a kingpin in the mob. A dangerous job for a dangerous man. At least I like to pretend he has a dangerous side, he certainly looks like he does. He has dark features and is always draped in black and cobalt blue clothing. He is stoic with a piercing hazel gaze that could slice right through you. He is hard to read but I feel like his eyes give him away. It's the way the corners wrinkle slightly or glow brighter when he is happy. It's how directly he stares when he is mad and fighting the urge to speak out. Despite his appearance, he is always kind and thoughtful toward me. He holds the door for me or pulls out my chair at the dinner table. One time, after I spent all of Thanksgiving day cooking, he took the serving dish from my hands so I could sit down and enjoy the meal I worked so hard on. He even made everyone wait until I sat to eat. Men are rarely that chivalrous these days. The memory sends my heart racing. Azriel is quiet, but not awkward the way Lucien is currently behaving. He is confident and reserved in a way that adds to his enigmatic persona.

I watch him as he walks through the door and turns to the stunning blonde behind him, Mor. He was on a date with her . I recall the time I overheard Feyre telling Nesta that Azriel was in love with Mor. It made sense I suppose, she is gorgeous and has a way about her that makes it seem like she was lit from within. But a part of me doesn’t believe it. Feyre is often wrong about these kinds of things. Look at me and Lucien, she thinks we are fated. But, this date feels like pulling teeth. “Elain, did you hear me?” I shook myself out of my daze, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lucien let out a sigh, “I asked if you like bread,'' Confused, I looked at the basket that was placed in front of me. I want to roll my eyes. Does he not remember that I own a bakery? “Who doesn't like bread, Lucien?” He scoffed, “you would be surprised, there are people out there who can't tolerate it.” I blink once, and then again. “That was a joke,” he states as if he were teaching humor to a martian. “Oh,” is all I can muster as I look at the bread, pleading with it to save me from this man. A dad joke, really?

Suddenly there is a long dark shadow cast over the table. My eyes shoot up to meet hazel ones. “I hope I'm not interrupting,” Azriel says, appearing like an answered prayer. “Azriel! It’s so good to see you,” I beamed, hoping the relief in my tone isn’t as obvious as it seems. The corner of his mouth ticks upward, “it's good to see you too Elain. I hope you have been well.” Gods he is beautiful and tall. Why is he so tall? He smells divine. I wonder if he is just visiting for a few days? Lucien clears his throat. I look at him, realizing I am still on a date. “Azriel, this is Lucien, you know, Feyre's friend.” Azriel slowly turns to Lucien and dips his head in greeting, turning back to me. “I didn't expect to see you out in the city,” he says with a curious look in his eyes. I smile shyly, “I'm… here on a date.” He looks back to Lucien slowly raking his gaze up and down, a hint of displeasure in his assessment. “I see. I'm just grabbing a bite with Mor.” He turns towards his companion who is sitting at a table across the restaurant. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello. I’ve taken a new assignment and will be in this area for the next few months. Hopefully we will see more of each other.” My smile widens, I would certainly love to see more of him. Azriel's lip quirks up ever so slightly on one side. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Lucien apologizes and grabs his phone, a puzzled look on his face. “Hold on. It's my roommate. It's odd he is calling since he knowsIi'm on a date.” He answers it quickly, while holding up a finger to shush Azriel and me. “Wait, what's wrong? Calm down.” Wow, he is really committing to the bit. “Are you sure? Okay… I am on my way,” he ends the call and looks up. “I'm sorry to have to do this but there's an emergency and I'm going to have to end our date early.” I fight back a chortle. “Oh no! What kind of an emergency, a flat tire or dead grandma?” Azriel coughs and turns away. Lucien looking stunned mutters out, “uhhh a flat tire.” I wave over the waitress who miraculously appears from nowhere, “Can we get our check?” I turn back to Lucien, “Sorry to hear about your roommates flat tire. I hate when that happens.” Before Lucien can reply, the waitress comes back with the bill. It's for two drinks and a bread basket. I start to pull out my wallet when Azriel clears his throat. Lucien looks from me to Azriel. Azriel asks with an unamused expression, “Aren't you going to pay, since it's a date?” My jaw nearly hits the floor. Lucien sputters and fumbles for his wallet. Hastily slinging a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Well it's been… a date. I will catch you around Elain.” Lucien shuffles around the crowd making a hasty exit. I keel over in a fit of quiet laughter the second Lucien bolts for the door. You know the kind of silent laughter where your shoulders shake and you can hardly breathe? That kind. I feel a warm rough hand stroke my upper arm sending a shiver down my spine. “Hey, it's okay, don't be upset,” came the soothing timbre of Azriel's voice. I look up to see his worried expression and start laughing even harder. His hand stills on my arm and grips me lightly. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, bemused by my giggling fit. I wipe away a few wayward tears as I fight back a bout of hiccups. “ it's just… it's just…” I snort. An honest to gods snort so loud that it draws the attention of at least three neighboring tables. Azriel is smiling fully now. A toothy smile that I just know he rarely gives to anyone. It over takes his whole face making him somehow even more handsome. Seeing him this way suddenly calms my laughing fit and I clear my throat. “It's just, we were having the worst date in the history of dates and he was so desperate to get away he made up an excuse to bail. But, I have to say his acting was pretty solid.” Azriel looks at me a little stunned, “you're not upset, not mad?” I smile again, “I can’t blame him, I wanted to escape through the bathroom window but they didn't have one.” His smile lingers as he stares at me. “You making him pay for the bill was just icing on the cake.” Azriel hums before saying, “it was the least I could do.” I stand and grab my small handbag off the table. “Well, Azriel, I’m happy I got the chance to see you. It’s been too long, I'm glad to hear you’ll be sticking around for a while.” He looks down towards his shoes and back up, the faintest blush on his cheeks. “Have a good evening,” I bid him farewell and walk out onto the street.

I stop to take a deep breath, cleansing myself of the bad date energy. It was terrible but at least I went out and could tell Feyre to back off. It had been several years since I had mustered the courage to date. Not since Graysen. I’m about to take a step when I felt a hand grab the back of my elbow. “Wait, I wanted to make sure you were truly okay.” I whirl around to see Azriel staring down at me. My heart flutters once again, the way it always does in his presence. His face was elegant with high cheekbones, a fine nose and a sharp jawline. In the halo of the street lamp he looked like a fallen angel. His scarred hand was still on my arm, a rose tattoo covered the back of it. “That's very thoughtful of you, but truly I’m okay. My pride is a little wounded but I'll get over it.” He studies me for a long moment before he leans in, “You're too nice Elain.” I stiffen but can't exactly argue. “He's a fool you know? Any man would be lucky to date you.” My stomach fills with butterflies. It was my turn to blush under the weight of his sincere gaze. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You should get back to your date, Azriel. I would hate to take up any more of your time.” He looks over his shoulder and back to me, as if confused. Maybe he was remembering where he was and what he was doing. “Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to take you home? You could join us…” his thumb tenderly rubbing up and down my arm. He was probably just being kind because I'm Feyre's sister. The thought saddens me. “I'm sure Azriel, no need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” He looks unsure or perhaps he is just reluctant to let me go. His hand is still stroking my arm. “It was lovely to see you, maybe we can catch up another time?” A smile tugs at my lips, “I'd like that.”

Azriel

I can't believe my luck. I get back into the city and happen to bump into the girl I have been obsessing over for months. Truth be told, I have a thing for Elain Archeron. How could I not? She is gorgeous and so incredibly kind. She radiates joy and has a way of making everyone around her feel special. I am normally so good with the opposite sex. Hell I have quite the reputation as a ladies man but something about her leaves me feeling like a lovesick teenager. I wish I had a reason to make her stick around and spend the evening with me but I know I probably shouldn't.

I watch Elain walk away down the crowded street. Utterly lost in the way the wind catches her long golden hair. The way her dress skims over her gentle curves. What I wouldn't do to get the chance to touch her. I exhale slowly, burying my thoughts on her deep down, as I always do. I walk back into the restaurant and sit across from Mor. Once, many years ago I thought I loved Mor. But I mistook her kindness for love. I had never been around a girl my own age until I met her. She is so gregarious and radiates confidence. So when she doted on me, I read the signals all wrong. I built up something that was never really there. It took too long to discover that Mor preferred women. Even after, I held out hope that she would change her mind. Truth be told, it allowed me to keep other women at a distance. If I hid all of my feelings in the safety of Mor's friendship I never had to address my own issues with intimacy. But, I was done hiding behind Mor and living in denial. I started to realize I could never be happy if I didn’t face reality, no matter how scary it was for me to open up to her. It was awkward and she was hesitant to even hear me out. It was worth it though, because now she was my friend and one of my closest confidants.

“So, how was sweet Elain?” she asks. Elain didn't know Mor well, but Mor knew all about Elain. Mor being a family friend of Rhys’ was well informed on the Archeron sisters. “She seems okay, though it looks like she was having a bad date. He actually ditched her.” Mor gapes, “that piece of shit! Who was it?” I sneer, “Lucien Vanserra.” Mor rolls her eyes, “seems as though Feyre finally wore her down.” l hum in agreement. I’ll never understand why Feyre thinks Lucien and Elain would make a good pair. I suspect she wants Lucien to stick around and worries he wouldn’t without some other incentive. Feyre dated Tamlin, Lucien’s former college roommate and friend. After the nasty break up Lucien had taken Feyre’s side. But, he had grown distant and their friendship never fully recovered. So, she clings to the hope that if Elain marries Lucien he will become a permanent fixture in her life. Feyre also loves to meddle in other people's lives. She likes to think she has a gift for connecting people but in reality she is terrible at it. No, truly terrible. Her own love life until Rhys had been a shitshow so it puzzles me why Feyre thought so highly of her skills in the love department. I know Elain is too good for Lucien. I don't hate the man but he doesn’t seem like the type of man she needs. Especially after his pathetic stunt this evening.

I think back to Elain, how utterly beautiful she looked. The way her skin seemed to glow, how her face lit up when she laughed. The utterly intoxicating smell of her jasmine perfume. I hate the thought of her dating Lucian. I hate the way they look together, the way she seems to shrink around him. She is a bright shining light in a world of darkness. She deserves someone who appreciates how special she truly is.

“Hello, Earth to Azriel,” Mor says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “I'm sorry Mor, what were you saying?” She sighs. “I should have known the second you saw her that I'd lost your focus for the evening.” My eyes snap up, face utterly unreadable. “What's that supposed to mean?” Mor pats my hand and I pull it away. I hate it when people touch my hands . “Don't play dumb with me Azriel. I know you too well.” I narrow my eyes, weighing my next words carefully. “I'm not playing dumb. I'm just concerned after Lucien ditched her.” Mor gives me an unimpressed look. “For what it's worth, I think you should ask her out. You two would make the hottest couple.” She pumps her eyebrows at me suggestively. “I'm not going to ask her out… that's absurd… Why would you even suggest that?” Mor tilts her head back and laughs, “oh you have it bad.” I give her an incredulous look, “I can't date anyone, I travel too much for work, not to mention it could be dangerous. Besides, I'm not interested in falling in love.” She gives me her no nonsense face. I want to protest but there is that old saying about protesting too much and I don't want to egg her on. “Let's just drop it and enjoy our evening,” I say, refusing to take the bait. Mor sighs, “here's the deal Azzy, I will enjoy a lovely meal, which you are paying for, by the way. But, I'm not forgetting you are pining after you know who.”

“Fine,” I bite out.

“Have you decided where you are going to stay?” She asks in a tone that feels suspiciously like prying into more than just my place of residence. I shrug, “My assignment is in Windhaven.” Mor scrunches her nose in distaste. Not that I blame her, Windhaven is a shithole. “I don't have to live there full time, but I do have to stay a few days a week.” She nods, “why not stay in Hewn Hills?” There it is, her not so innocent suggestion. It's like she knows what I have planned. She knows me too well. I eye her suspiciously. “Don't give me that look, Az. Velaris is too far from Windhaven, and Hewn Hills is adorable.” It is a nice town, I wouldn't call it adorable. Though there is something there worth adoring . “They have great hiking trails, the parks are beautiful, and the downtown is just like Stars Hollow.” I sigh, “you don't have to convince me Mor, I've already booked a bed and breakfast.” She squeals, and I feel a headache forming. I rub my temple, “don't get too excited. It's the most logical choice.” She claps excitedly, “oh i just love it there, and now I have another reason to visit. You know I love Rita's and don't get me started on Petals.” I give her a perturbed look and pray to the gods that she doesn't read into anything more than she already has. There is only one reason I’m staying in Hewn Hills, Elain . Seeing her with Lucien tonight only reinforces the notion that I need to be close to her. Is it the smart thing to do? No, but I can’t seem to keep away. I’m just glad Mor’s job will keep her distracted from joining Feyre in competing for the biggest pain in the ass award.

[dreamlandcreations]

Promises, promises

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Summary: When you were children he made you a promise but after all the years and everything that happened since, you didn't think he would still want to go through with it...

based on this post of @lavuchiha

Warnings: no reader description (I think) so might be read as a Strong/Velaryon/Targaryen/Cole reader although the rumours of her brother's parentage did not spare her so she is often referred to as a Strong bastard too, canon typical stuff, bit more angsty than I intended and way too long for a one shot, soooo... sorry for the ending?

Aemond often thought of the promise he made you, sometimes with yearning, sometimes with resentment but the closer your nameday got, the more trouble he had chasing away that memory. The news of your visit to the Keep was certainly no help in trying to ignore his feelings.

On the day of your arrival, it seemed he practically lived in that moment that was engraved in his heart and soul to this very day. For the umpteenth time, his body moved on its own as his mind was far away from the training yard where you and your brothers would find him later. His promise haunting him in unrelenting repetition.

"If you do not find a love match until then, I will take you as my bride."

The prospect of being married off for a political alliance scared you beyond reason, even at that age. No matter that your mother promised you would have time to find a good match, you knew eventually you would have to take a husband whether you liked the idea or not.

Aemond, being the good friend you could always count on, made an oath that he will not let you face that fate, to be given to a stranger who would not care for you. And when you giggled and asked how he planned to do that, he blurted out that he would marry you instead.

Your answering frown broke his foolishly infatuated heart but your question of what if he would already love someone else by then soothed the hurt as you showed care for his happiness, possibly at the expense of your own.

That thought, the thought that you cared, kept him sane through the pain of losing his eye and the following years of misery. He was determined to prove himself to be worthy as your king, although he would never admit it, not even to himself but that is what kept him going through the pain and the gossip and the mockery he was subjected to for all these years.

And now he feels like all his efforts paid off as he catches your brother's stunned and frightened expression while training but nothing could prepare him for the subtle wonder he sees from you as you are unable to look away from him, even as your brother's drag you away. The words repeat in his mind with a renewed fury.

"I will take you as my bride."

Aemond feels conflicted at the gathering in the throne room. On one hand, he couldn't deny if he tried that he immensely enjoys as Vaemond berates your mother and shames your brothers, on the other hand, he is ready to kill the man for implying the same accusation to you. In the end, he didn't have to, Daemon took care of it much to his delight and it seems to yours as well.

The dinner is awkward but he doesn't care, he can only focus on you, barely able to tear his gaze away as he deals with Aegon's foolishness and tries to keep an eye on your brothers as well. The second-born prince is thoroughly entertained though. With your flustered expression whenever your gazes lock and with the obvious fear his intimidating behaviour is causing to his nephews.

His good mood is gone as soon as the little bastard who took his eye starts to laugh at his expense. Aemond hesitates before the last word, his eye finding yours once more and you would swear you could see a hint of regret or dare say apology flicker over him for a second.

Doesn't matter though, his revenge is short-lived because as soon as your brothers would react you stand and raise your cup to him.

"I'd like to thank you for your kind words, uncle. Although I must say I feel a little left out, might even be offended if I didn't know better that your praises apply to me as well." You smirk in a way that tells him he managed to hurt you with his words after all but before he could say anything you continue. "In the spirit of that, I'd like to return the favour on the behalf of my siblings and I."

You hear your mother hiss your name in warning but out of the corner of your eye you can tell Daemon is delighted and that gives you the strength to go on.

"I raise my cup to my uncles, the finest examples of Westerosi nobility." You finish the simple praise and take a sip of your wine while you still smirk at him, this time in victory and with a hint of condescension.

Although you can tell at least half of the table doesn't understand the insult, not even the Hand, who was more often referred to as cunt by the Rogue Prince than by his name or title. Oh, but the person you aimed it at definitely gets it. Denying the proud prince his Valyrian heredity is perhaps a bigger insult than anything you could come up with about his childhood or his injury. Which, to be honest, was a sore subject to you too, so you couldn't even go there if you wanted to.

The dinner goes on, and you watch as Aemond tries to breathe through his anger while you bask in your triumph and the silent affection of Daemon's approval. But your smug smile hinders as his own lips start to mirror yours.

You are speechless when he stalks over you and even more so when he asks you for a dance. You are too stunned to do anything but accept.

"Breathe." He whispers into your ear as he leans down while he pulls you closer.

You didn't even realise you were holding your breath until then. The almost frightened look you give him as he guides you to the tune makes him smile even more but he says nothing else as long as you dance.

With the song ending, there's still a bit of a murmuring conversation going on at the table but Aemond's voice cuts through it easily, gaining the attention of your extended family.

"It is your nameday in a week. Tell me, Princess, have you found a love match yet, as you wished? Are you betrothed to any lord?"

He knows you are not, although he wouldn't admit that out loud either, that he was willing to endure the mockery of the court ladies if he could keep up with the gossip about your engagement, or lack of it fortunately.

To your surprise, it's the still entertained Rogue Prince who answers on your behalf with laughter in his voice as he says "No."

If you would be less shocked, you would spare him a glare but an almost forgotten memory comes back to torment you at that moment.

"If you do not find a love match until then, I will take you as my bride."

Aemond just humms at your widening eyes and lets you hanging for a long moment.

"In that case, I have a promise to keep, my Princess." He is equally entertained as his uncle as you are still frozen in place, gaping at Aemond in disbelief. The palpable dread of most of the people at the table only adds to his good mood as he seals your fate. "I will make you my wife."

He doesn't seem concerned as all hell breaks loose. His mother and grandfather objecting loudly, Aegon and Daemon sharing Aemond's odd cheerfulness at the chaos while your soon-to-be good sisters are trying to hold back your brothers. You can't tell how your mother or Heleana is reacting in the midst of all the noise and eventual fight.

It takes punching your apparent betrothed to snap you out of the paralysed state but Aemond's pleased, smug and nonchalant reaction to the hit makes you pause again for a second so when you react, Jace is already down, Luke is held by Aegon and Rhaena is trying to restrain Baela before your brothers are being held back by the guards.

"Enough!" you yell as loud as you can and it makes everyone stop and turn back to you. Before you have a chance to say anything else, your brothers try to attack again but this time Daemon finally steps up, commanding them to stop before turning to Aemond with a positively amused but still challenging demeanour.

You roll your eyes at them and turn to search for your mother to make sure she is okay. Rheanyra steps closer to you taking your hands in hers, a thousand questions in her eyes as she tries to provide some calmness. When a silent agreement is made to talk later, you shift your attention back to the two princes.

The staring match just ends as you face them again. with another humm from Aemond before, for the first time, he acknowledges the presence of his half-sister. The grin he greets her with cannot be described as anything other than evil as he digs your grave even further.

"I see no reason to prolong this any longer. The wedding will be held in a fortnight."

With that, he exits the room without sparing you a glance and you are left to direct your frustration at a still-amused Daemon.

You hit him in the arm and he feigns hurt mockingly before pulling you into a hug, promising it will be alright.

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 9

Hiiii! Welcome to part 9 of my Dracula x Reader fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter, though I apologize if it feels kinda wonky. I finally got a new pc built during writing, and a bunch of other stuff has happened. It was hard to piece it all together with so much happening in my life. I hope you all enjoy it though! Just in time for Nocturne to release :D Summary: After arriving in Dracula's castle, you can't help but feel you are in a dream, though you certainly wish it was to avoid the awkward air. Meanwhile, Dracula contemplates his next moves. After all, he's sure he's bound to be the center of the world's gossip mill when they find out he's caring for a Belmont.

CW: Anxiety, references to bad home life, injuries mentioned, blood drinking

Word Count: 4216 words! Like my work? Come check me out here: Link Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @Onewiththebeanbag @starrlo0ver @sleepyendymion @dame-sunflowers @sapphicsfordracula @ursamajor17 @maorizon @marshmelloe Wanna be on the taglist, let me know in the comments!

First: Here Last: Here Next: Here! --

Sorting his affairs turned out to be a much more annoying endeavor than Dracula originally intended.

Despite this, he wasn’t all too surprised.

For the past few centuries, despite being the King of the Night, he has had very little presence in paranormal societies.

Every time he had been revived since this cursed cycle began, he had barely been alive long before a Belmont or some other hero would come and battle him to the death.

Even if for all intents and purposes he was the King of Vampires, he has had little or no time to rule.

He absentmindedly swirled his glass, before taking another sip.

There were two probable scenarios because of this.

Vampire covens and supernatural communities were in chaos.

Or-

They were in various communities across the globe, staking territory. He doubted any of them would be happy he was back to rule.

No one liked their own power to be threatened, after all.

Even when he was actively King, vampire covens and paranormal communities weren’t always happy to serve him. Many just did for his power, or the safety he offered.

Some felt the call of power from him and Castlevania itself. Others are uniquely tied to him and his castle. Those ones he hardly had to worry about.

No, he had a feeling his return wouldn’t be as happily accepted outside his usual circles. Most would probably only lend him an ear since he was Death’s master, and Chaos’ champion.

Did not mean they would be cooperative or happy.

He let out an agitated sigh. No doubt being killed over and over made him appear weak. Dracula suspected many would be aiming for his throat and his throne.

Nevermind the fact he was almost always slain just after being revived, before his powers ever had a chance to settle.

And he was sure many underestimated the power of the Belmonts. He may have always just woken up around each battle, but each Belmont still had power beyond belief.

“What a nuisance.” He muttered, downing more blood.

While normally he would handle this himself, he couldn’t afford to sit idly and wait for such pathetic attempts on his life and power from want-to-be rulers.

Dracula had a guest this time. He had you.

Back when his precious Lisa had still been alive, he had been alive for several centuries at that point. Almost every underling knew she was off limits, lest they desire something more painful than death itself.

Even those he knew wanted his head knew better than to go for his wife.

Lisa had been left alone by his servants and other creatures of the night. Ironic how it was the humans that took her from him.

The gall and irony humans had to call him and his own monsters after that. Bah.

The glass in his hand cracked, and he looked at it in annoyance.

Banishing it, another drink was brought to him as he continued to think.

Things were different this time. At least back then, no one dared to lay a finger on his wife. But now?

He had no doubts a target would be on both his head, and the Little Belmont’s.

Dracula was sure word was already spreading across the castle, and no doubt would soon do so to other communities nearby.

‘The Dracula? Taking in another human?’

He can already imagine the gossip.

The scowl on his face darkened.

It would only be a matter of time before word reached across the globe.

He knew you could take care of yourself, sure. You had told him several stories of hunts you had when he had been imprisoned, usually involving the death of a beast hunting innocents.

However, there was no way in hell you would survive in your current state. Whatever had happened, had intended to either permanently harm, or to kill you.

Dracula’s free hand gripped his throne tight, and he felt the arm of it splinter slightly.

How you received those injuries was a whole different issue that he would have to investigate later on. An issue he planned on thoroughly going over.

So for now, you were under his official protection while you healed.

Unless of course, you decided to go against your word. Though, Dracula heavily doubted you would do so.

You really were different then those who came before you.

This would not be easy, but when had it ever been? He was just thankful you knew how to defend yourself, and had the means to do so.

Once word got out, and you were healed, he also had suspicions you would be hunted. Either as a Belmont, Dracula’s human, or a ‘traitor’.

He may not have been privy to any sort of personal information regarding hunters and their circles, but he knew back a few centuries ago, helping out a ‘monster’ was a death sentence. It did not matter if they didn’t wish to harm humans, simply helping a beast was an act against god and humanity itself.

Hunters and the church considered such a person no better than the very beasts they hunted at that point.

Dracula doubted that sentiment was completely gone, even now in more modern times.

Reaching up, Dracula pinched the bridge of his nose in thought.

He had someone making potions for you at least. Hopefully you wouldn’t be badly injured for too long.

After that, he wondered if you would be opposed to staying here at his castle? You didn’t seem disgusted by it, nor did the castle seem to try and push you away like it did other intruders.

Those who were not welcome usually felt such pushes on their mind and body. Only the strong willed could push onwards past it.

Even his castle seemed to see you as a guest.

The castle bent to his will, sure, but it was still a being of Chaos. This small revelation also intrigued him, how such a being seemed not to mind your presence.

Perhaps it was that it also didn’t consider you a threat? It was obvious you currently had no intentions to fight him.

Dracula’s eyes narrowed, a presence pulling him out of his thoughts.

The room grew darker, and a familiar figure rose from the shadows. It flew around his throne, before giving a bow in front of him.

“Good to see you back, Master.”

Death.

Dracula looked over the divine being that had worked under him for centuries. His second in command, his devout lieutenant.

Dracula gave the being a brief nod of acknowledgment, and Death rose.

Even after all the deaths Dracula had endured, Death itself still remained loyal after all these years. He supposed he should count it as a blessing now.

“Report?” Dracula then idly asked, drinking from his glass.

“Things are running smoothly. Everyone is settling in quickly, as usual my lord.”

Dracula hummed.

“Good. Good.” He mumbled, mind still partially elsewhere.

A moment passed, and Death gripped his scythe.

“Master, if I may be so bold…”

Dracula held back a sigh, already having an inkling to what he was going to say.

“Do you think it is wise to have a hunter, let alone a Belmont residing in the castle?”

There it was. He knew his subordinates would be asking sooner or later. He wasn’t particularly surprised Death was the first to make an inquiry.

“They pose no threat. This Belmont is… different from the others. I would like to speak with them properly about our standing with one another as soon as they are recovered.”

He then looked Death in the face.

“They are not to be harmed while under my care. Do I make myself clear?”

Death studied him for a moment, probably wondering if he had a few screws loose, before nodding his head.

“As you wish, milord.”

Death was silent, and a beat passed. Dracula hoped his warning managed to sink into the other entity’s skull.

He was no stranger to the fact Death was his most avid supporter. Although Death had always followed his orders, the entity didn’t shy away from making its own decisions if he felt it was best for his master.

Staying within Dracula’s orders, but bending the rules just enough to do his own thing if he could get away with it.

Typically Dracula didn’t mind. Death was his most trusted lieutenant for a reason.

However, he couldn’t help but feel Death may try and get around this one rule if it felt it was best.

As much as he hated it, he would have to keep an eye on all his close subordinates.

Dracula tried not to focus on the growing migraine building in his head.

“Now, what of the vampire covens across the earth?”

Death gave him a subtle crooked grin, and Dracula had a sinking feeling he would need another drink before returning to see you.

—

Dracula’s castle was far more pleasant than you would like to admit.

Your brain was in and out of a fog, but even then you could appreciate just how nice the guest room and washroom alone were.

You almost felt like royalty with how classy and intricate the rooms were, and how they had convenient modern touches.

Never had you stayed somewhere so elaborate and fancy. All the hotels you have been in couldn’t even come close to compare.

Even now as you laid in the giant bed with its soft, velvet sheets, you couldn’t help but be amazed.

Kinda ironic, the home of your ‘enemy’ was way better than any place you had ever stayed at.

Besides maybe your own home before your step family took over, you supposed, though that was a long time ago.

Slowly rolling onto your back, you winced as your wounds flared and your stomach churned. You continued to admire your setting.

The bed had a beautiful silk canopy around it, and you still couldn’t help but be enamored by it.

Or by it all, really. Even if it was a bit overwhelming.

…Just how long has it been?

You had been in and out of sleep, occasionally slipping into a doze before startling awake. The time was lost to you.

In retrospect, you couldn’t help it. Your instincts were going haywire from… well, everything.

The bed and sheets were nice at least. Almost too nice.

You were used to your old sheets, or stiff bed sheets you’d find in cheap hotels.

Not soft satin sheets and pillows that were as fluffy as a cloud.

There was also the glaring fact you were in monster territory. Despite how nice the decor was, it was something on the back of your mind also keeping you up.

Yes, Dracula said you were a guest, but it was hard to lower your guard when you knew just outside the door were monsters roaming up and down the halls. That this whole castle was filled to the brim with the paranormal and monster kind.

You were also a hunter, and a notorious one from a notorious family at that.

It wasn’t hard to imagine some monsters may go ahead and take a shot at you, regardless of Dracula’s orders.

To some, it may be worth it to suffer Dracula’s wrath or ire if it meant eradicating you from existence. It wasn’t exactly a secret that a lot of the paranormal hated you.

You carefully laid on your side, and looked out the window.

A small comfort. Originally, the window had been covered by thick curtains. However, you had pulled them aside to attempt to relieve your anxiety.

The clouds were dark. You couldn’t tell if it was night or day at this point. Perhaps that was the point.

But you were so tired. Exhausted.

You really couldn’t even sleep if you wanted to, knowing Dracula, or at least a servant, would be bringing you a meal sometime soon.

The hunter in your soul didn’t wish to be taken off guard, even if it was to be fed.

A small part of you wondered if you should even eat. Your instincts whispered in your mind about poisons, warning you of incoming death.

But that was ridiculous. Imagine it, you, a hunter, dying from poison.

No, if Dracula wanted you dead, he would have killed you by now. By his own hand no less, you were sure.

Still, that didn’t stop your instincts from making things difficult.

You curled in on yourself a bit tighter, wincing when some of the stitches tugged. Reluctantly, you adjusted to keep them from stretching.

You reached over, and grabbed the nearby pillow, and hugged it close to your body for some comfort.

It smelled nice.

That was another issue. You were so sleep deprived and struggling with blood loss, your brain liked to bring up such things, no matter how much you were trying to shut them out.

Gripping the pillow tighter, you felt your face form into a sour look.

“What am I going to do…” You mumbled, closing your eyes again.

At least if you didn’t sleep, lying here would be some rest. Better than none.

Though you hated to admit how much you jumped when you heard a brief, but loud knocking against the door. Talk about acting like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs…

You sat up in bed with a wince, and you noticed that no one seemed to enter. Another knock followed the previous one. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Uh… Come in…?” you called out, uncertain. Were they waiting to see if you were awake, or what?

The doorknob slowly turned, and you felt like the breath was punched out of you when Dracula stepped through.

Right. He had mentioned he would return.

He looked different though. Better, if you had to put a word to it. He wasn’t particularly disheveled to begin with, but now he didn’t look as… Hungry? Irritated? It was hard to figure out the words.

The Lord of the Night had also changed. Similar style, dark cloak and all, though he had on a vest with a dark red dress shirt underneath, and some sort of fancy slacks.

You imagined you probably would have wanted to change too if you had been wearing the same clothes as a stone statue for however many years.

But seeing Dracula again? You hated to admit how he practically took your breath away.

His power and presence were just as intimidating as before, and he wasn’t even angry. How did your ancestors handle him before, when he felt this powerful without seemingly intending to harm you?

Dracula looked you over briefly as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Even if there were no traces of malice on his face, a shiver still ran down your spine, instincts still screaming to run or fight.

You swallowed your nerves down as he walked closer.

He stopped at the side of your bed, and once again, you had to crane your neck just to see him at his full height.

That is, until with the wave of his hand, a chair nearby in the room came scooting forward. It came to a stop behind him, and he sat down without a glance.

Internally, you hoped your awe wasn’t blatantly on your face.

When he sat, he crossed his legs, before holding a tray with some sort of bowl on it. He held it forward, and you blinked at it slowly.

“I hope you are resting well, Little Belmont. I had some servants make you some soup. I fear eating solids may upset your stomach, which would aggravate your injuries if you were to grow sick.” He spoke, his voice low and deep. Even if he wasn’t loud, his voice still seemed to vibrate in your chest.

It took his words a few moments to register, and you looked between him, and the tray. He took in your expression for a moment, before speaking once more.

“If you fear it has been tampered with, I assure you my servants-”

“Oh, no… It’s fine. Sorry, I’m…” You spoke, cutting him off, ignoring how your pulse spiked when you realized you did so.

“S-Sorry… My head is a bit foggy, is all…” You then explained, before shakily reaching for the tray.

Dracula was quick, or perhaps, your brain really was slow. He held out a hand, and quite gently might you add, set the tray down on your lap.

“Of course. You must not exert yourself, and you must eat. I do not know how long it has been since you last ate, but you need something in your stomach.”

As if hearing the conversation, your stomach loudly growled, and you felt your face flush in embarrassment. When was the last time you ate? This morning? Night before last? You couldn’t exactly remember…

It was brief, but you swore you could have seen Dracula’s lips twitch upward seeing you grow flustered. It must have been your foggy mind and imagination. Or not, he could be internally laughing at you. Who knows?

Meanwhile, Dracula knew he had been right to bring you soup. He just hoped you could hold it down.

Though he didn’t want to admit how… endearing it was seeing you grow flustered like that. For a Belmont, you were quite the adorable human.

He would never admit it of course, but hell save him if Death ever found out he had such thoughts. Dracula would never hear the end of it.

Especially considering such thoughts were about a Belmont. Someone he should be wasting no time slaying.

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

There was something so different about you, even now, as he watched you pick up the spoon and attempt to eat.

You didn’t stare at him with burning hate in your eyes, but curiosity. There was a sharp mind behind those eyes that asked questions. Someone who didn’t just jump to conclusions.

Was it so wrong he wanted to see more of that, especially in the family of his enemies, who had blindly ran and fought? Killing innocents of his kind?

He was no saint, far from it. But he knew of many others the Belmont clan had killed.

But you… You were so different. He didn’t wish to say it outloud, but he wished to push forward that way of thinking. Perhaps he could even find a middle ground with you.

You weren’t just some ‘scary hunter’. The Little Belmont in front of him showed so much more, showing the better qualities of humanity.

His face almost soured at the thought, but even he could admit every one in a million, perhaps one good human was born. You seemed to be that one in a million exception so far.

Just like Lisa had been.

He decided not to think too much on what that could mean, though he hoped it promised good things in the near future.

It was quiet for a while, and Dracula couldn’t help but study you as you ate. First and foremost, it was to watch and make sure your body could handle it.

But he had his own selfish reasons for doing so.

He could move again. React to you. Speak to you. Touch you.

However, he found it hard to speak. There were many things he wanted to talk about with you, and half of them he intended on waiting until you were a little bit healthier.

Anything he thought of before now though, was suddenly caught on his tongue as he observed.

Perhaps it would be better this way. Dracula prided himself on being charismatic and influential, but that was amongst the supernatural. This was a Belmont, and he knew things were… shaky at best.

However, as he watched you try and consume more of the soup, he found himself managing to say something.

“Are you feeling alright? Adjusting well?”

Briefly, you tensed when he spoke, before you seemed to force yourself to relax. He made a mental note of that reaction, wondering if it was because of him, or if it was a natural response.

Dracula could understand it if it was from him, given the circumstances, but even he could tell there was something off about it. He didn’t like the feeling settling in his gut over the bigger picture.

“It hurts a lot, but I’ll live.” You spoke, your voice still rough, but sounding leagues better than before. For a moment, it looked as if you wanted to say more, but held your tongue.

Interesting.

You were still for a moment, struggling to look at him. No doubt you were still having trouble thinking clearly, and struggling with everything that had happened. Have you even slept?

He had his doubts you’ve even rested. You may not look as manic like before, but you looked completely exhausted.

For a moment, he briefly thought about using his abilities to make you sleep. It was something Lisa would request on occasion if she hadn’t felt well or couldn’t settle.

However, he stomped that idea down. The last thing you needed was him using his powers like that on you, unless explicitly agreed upon. Even though you were… receptive of him taking care of you at the moment, he didn’t want to shatter that small bit of trust.

Given that he had suspicions about your home life, he imagined just the small bit of trust you had given him at all was momentous. Dracula couldn’t afford to lose that. Not now.

Though Dracula hated the odd pain in his chest as he stared at you. He was worried. Something he didn’t think he would ever feel again.

“Thank you, by the way.”

His eyes were on your face in an instant as you spoke.

“I… You didn’t have to take care of me. I do appreciate it.” You spoke, your eyes still on the bowl in your lap.

Your voice was small, and quiet. Dracula could tell though, saying that must have taken strength.

You didn’t see his eyes soften ever so slightly.

“You are welcome. As my guest, I will do my best to make sure you are taken care of.”

Internally you wanted to scream. You hated how much you liked the sound of that. When was the last time anyone cared enough to take care of you? Your mother before she had died all those years ago?

It had been way too long, and it was Dracula who was seemingly wanting to take care of you.

Damn your foggy mind.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I… Um…” You began, unsure on how to word this.

“About when you were a statue…”

You had so many questions, but didn’t know where to begin. Was it even a good idea to ask in the state you were in?

“You could hear and see everything, right?” you asked tentatively.

Dracula was silent for a moment, red eyes staring into you. It seemed he was contemplating what to say, and you tried not to get nervous as the seconds awkwardly ticked onward.

“Indeed I was. I was aware the moment you stepped foot in my castle the first time, though I was not aware it was a Belmont, not at first.”

His voice was still like velvet. No wonder vampires were such good hunters if they could talk like him.

You really needed to force yourself to sleep. Maybe if you smacked your head hard enough on the table, you could knock yourself out before you did or thought anything weirder.

Clenching your fist, you attempted to figure out what to say next.

“Um…”

Internally you cursed yourself for making this awkward. Why did you have to bring this up?

“Then… What now?” You asked, trying to find some semblance of what comes next. Just because he was taking care of you didn’t make everything all happy and cheery.

You couldn’t wash away centuries of history and bloodshed out of nowhere.

Dracula shifted, then reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed a glass of water. You looked at it confused.

When had he brought that in?

Before you could ask, he was gently holding it out to you.

“We can discuss that after you have rested. We have much to go over, but worrying about that and discussing it while you are injured won’t help your healing.”

He looked away a moment, as if contemplating what to say, before his eyes met your own once again.

“You have gained my interest and respect, enough to hear you out and discuss everything. When you are in a state to do so, of course.”

A part of you opened your mouth to speak, as if to say you could do it now, but you froze. Your eyes landed on the glass he still held out.

After a moment, you closed your mouth, and took the glass.

In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel like some sort of agreement or contract was formed, as if your fate was sealed.

As you sipped the refreshing water though, and looked over at Dracula himself, who seemed pleased you accepted the drink…

…You wondered if this would really be that bad?

Perhaps your future wouldn’t be as bleak as you thought.

[blacklesbothatlovestowrite]

A Spark Ain't Never Felt This Good

(S/n: I OG had How Does It Feel by Chloe & Chris Brown as the song when I first started but changed it as I felt Jeans fit better once I finished the last leg of it today.)

Shuriri x Masc Reader

Summary: Shuri and Riri have been together for almost 3 years and start to feel as though they've hit a plateau in their relationship. In comes Masc Reader who gives them just the spark they were looking for.

Stem Shuri, Fem Riri & Masc Reader.

Warnings: Smut, Threesome, NSFW.

Never thought I would post this but thanks to @desswright29 and an Anon here ya'll go. 🫣 I'm kind of nervous because when it comes to masc writing I feel awkward like I don't fully grasp the personality, and air they have around them even though I'm currently writing two fem x Stud/Masc books in RL.

I OG had other plans for the end of this when I'd first wrote it but quickly abandoned it. Maybe if ya'll like it I'll add a part 2 with the OG smut idea I had for them. (DP, Triangle Oral and Anal) my mind was going to very smutty places 😭

-

"Yo, can you take your shit off of my work table?" Riri hissed, she was beyond tired of Shuri tossing her shit around everywhere.

"Don't talk to me like that, Ri..." Shuri snapped, her eyes narrowing at the shorter girl. At times she wondered why she still bothered. It seemed anything she did got under Riri's skin.

"Then pick your shit up and stop fucking littering my space!" Riri rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and waited for Shuri to remove her stuff.

Shuri took a deep breath trying to calm herself. She wasn't one to disrespect others but Riri made it hard at times to keep her composure.

She gathered her kimoyo beads she'd been tinkering with and her tools and moved them to the other side of the work room that was hers. Once she'd finished she turned back towards Riri and watched her.

"Sthandwa, how about we go out for dinner?" Shuri suggested. It'd been a while since they'd done anything together let alone for each other, not for Shuri's lack of trying.

"I'm good. I don't feel like going out." Riri declined, not in the mood for anything.

"What if I ordered something?" Shuri tried to compromise.

"If you want, but as I said I'm good." Riri shrugged.

Shuri sighed before heading out of the work room. She was starting to become fed up with Riri's attitude and actions. They hadn't had sex in months. They hadn't even slept in the same bed in almost as long. It felt as though they were roommates rather than partners.

She often wondered if there was someone else, or if Riri just simply stopped caring about her. She hated feeling like this. She hated feeling as though Riri didn't give two fucks about her. And it was slowly starting to wear her down as she agonized over their rapidly declining relationship.

A knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts. She shook her head and went to open it, staring in shock at who was there. She hadn't seen you in a long time and she sure hadn't been expecting you.

"Y/n?" Shuri gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"You sounded off on the phone, so I decided to pull up." You shrugged, looking her up and down. You bit your bottom lip as her eyes dilated. You and Shuri had been friends for years and friends with benefits for a while before you'd moved away.

You both kept in contact with each other, not letting distance come between your friendship. You'd been happy when she'd found Riri. She was hot, with beautiful chocolate eyes and a devious smile. You were content in knowing Shuri wasn't alone any longer.

"Now's really not a good time--" Shuri frowned, thinking of her current predicament with Riri. She'd told you how trying Riri was at times and refused to have a more dominant attitude towards the small girl.

"It's the perfect time." You insisted, pushing past her and heading inside. You weren't stupid. You knew Shuri was begging for your intervention, Shuri wasn't some meek girl if she wasn't forcing Riri to submit it was because she wanted you to do it and she wasn't going to ask because she was too prideful at times.

"Y/n..."

"Nice crib, It looks better in person." You say as you place your suitcase by the sofa.

"I'm heading out." Riri said, and Shuri looked over to see Riri had showered and changed. She had on one of Shuri's oversized sweaters that stopped mid thigh and some heels.

"Where are you going?" Shuri questioned, not understanding how she could be going out when she'd just said she wasn't interested in going out. The with her part silent.

"Out, do I need to give you a run down itinerary of my plans?" Riri scoffed.

"Alright, enough!" Shuri declared, staring Riri down. "I've had enough of your behavior and attitude. I've been patient, I've been loving, I've been understanding and all you've done is spit on every attempt."

Riri stared at Shuri in shock. She'd never seen Shuri get so angry before. Like a flip was switched she felt her body shiver.

You watched Riri's body taking note of the way she responded to Shuri. You smirked, realizing just why she was acting so bratty. You'd had too many women in your bed to know exactly what was going on.

"I see you haven't learned anything from me, Entle." You clear your throat, raising a brow at Shuri. "Have you forgotten how to tame brats like her?"

Riri finally noticed you and her eyes narrowed. She'd seen many pictures of you before, and she knew all about you and Shuri's phone calls. She couldn't help the envy that emerged at seeing you in their home. She'd spent months being angry at Shuri for being able to talk to you about things she didn't talk to her about. Angry at the way Shuri's face looked whenever she talked to you, or about you.

"Don't talk about me as if I'm a child." Riri hissed, glaring at you.

"You're certainly not one." You grinned, taking in her figure. Even in the oversized sweater, you could tell she had a beautiful body.

"Y/n..." Shuri warned already seeing where you were going. She knew how you looked when you were being mischievous or when you were aroused.

"Maybe little miss brat needs some reminding just how good a girl she's got." You say, walking towards Shuri and kissing her. You felt how Shuri melted in your hold, as your tongue roamed her mouth.

Your hold tightened as you gripped her hips, relishing in the way she moaned for you. As much as she loved being able to lead, she loved being able to submit to you.

As the two of you kissed, Riri's core started to react. She felt confused as the sight of the two of you had her jealousy replaced with lust. She watched you with interest. You had on a white long sleeve top, with gray joggers on. Your neck was adorned with two chains and your hair was covered with a durag.

You pulled away allowing Shuri to catch her breath. Her eyes were hooded as she tried to control her breathing. Fuck, she's missed this.

"Brat, strip your clothes and let me see you play with that pretty pussy." Your eyes still locked with Shuri. You expected some attitude or snarky response, but received neither as you watched Shuri's eyes widen.

You turned to see Riri fully naked, and heading for the sofa. To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You'd expected more mouth from Miss Williams after what Shuri had told you about her.

"It seems she does know how to stop talking and listen." You said to Shuri, your eyes glued on Riri's form as she sat on the sofa with her legs spread. You watched her glistening pussy, your mouth starting to water as she ran her nails through her slipper folds.

"Fuck!" Shuri groaned, she'd been sexually frustrated for months. Yet the thought of having Riri and You was causing her mind to go crazy with different positions she'd fantasized about.

This was a hidden desire she had never thought would have happened. The thought of how you fucked her so good with your strap she'd personally created for you was constantly on her mind. She couldn't help thinking of what it would be like if you all linked up and threw down. She knew you were a wild card. You got bitches, it was a fact. You were more experienced, as you were the one to start her sexual journey.

"Ssssss..." Riri hissed as she slid two fingers inside herself, it'd been so long since she'd had a release that her pussy was sensitive.

"Look at the way that fat pussy is taking those pretty fingers." You praise her, pulling Shuri over to the sofa and pushing her down beside Riri. You sit on the coffee table opposite Riri, eyes glued to her pussy sucking her fingers in. The wet, squelching sound like music to your ears.

"How long has it been since this pussy was touched?" You demand, urging her to look you in the eyes. She bit back a moan as she continued fingering herself.

"6 months..." She cried out, her chest heaving as she tried to fight her impending orgasm.

"6 months?" You repeated. You hummed to yourself, then grabbed her hand that was giving her pleasure and moved it away from her juicy hole. You tsked, shaking your head. "You've been denying Shuri this pussy for 6 months? Denied Yourself Shuri's sweet pussy?"

Riri swallowed back the rage, she was frustrated. She wanted to cum so badly, her pussy was throbbing and you were toying with her. She wanted to cuss you out so bad but knew you wouldn't allow her to cum if she had. Shuri had told her about some of your exploits with other women and she knew you enjoyed punishing stubborn women.

"Look at her." You laughed, tilting your head. "She's all quiet and submissive after all that trouble she gave you."

Shuri bit her lip, she was sure you could get Riri in check. She didn't have the heart to punish Riri the way she deserved for her behavior. Instead she'd been trying to cater to Riri but she knew Riri needed someone who could put her in her place.

You lifted slightly to push down your joggers and tapped the kimoyo bead on your bracelet Shuri had given you to activate your strap. You watched as both women stared at the black strap.

"Shuri come suck my strap." You ordered, watching as she quickly got on her knees and took your strap in her mouth. You groaned as you watched her deep throat your strap.

Shuri had designed the strap so it would vibrate at the top against your pussy so only you'd feel the vibrations. You watched Shuri suck the strap, taking it as far as she could.

"Damn..." You sighed feeling the sensations, you'd missed how good Shuri was at this. The sight of her taking your strap all the way down her throat, spit and drool leaking from the corner of her mouth as she sucked the damn near soul out of you.

You clenched your pussy as you heard Riri moan, your eyes snapped to her and you watched as she stared at Shuri's moving head in a trance. You could see her pussy leaking, soaking the couch as she clenched her fists by her side.

"Entle, up." You demanded. Shuri removed her mouth from your strap, a string of spit following her. You grasped her neck and brought her to you and kissed her roughly. "Tell me what you want."

Shuri swallowed, taking several shaky breaths as her mind raced with all the thoughts she had. There were so many things she wanted to try but she was more interested in seeing You turn Riri into a whimpering, screaming mess. She needed her Riri back.

"Do what you do best." Shuri pleaded, her eyes begging for you to help her. You nodded, hating to see that look on her face.

"I'm only going to ask this once." You spat towards Riri. You could see the defiance in her eyes, in her body the way it was tense. She wanted to argue, to fight but she was trying to keep quiet. You knew she wanted you. You knew when anyone wanted you. It was obvious.

"Do I have your permission to have your body?" You stared her down, watching as she tried to fight her instinct to be a brat.

"Yes..." She whispered.

Shuri was unsure of what happened to Riri. She had never seen Riri so quiet, so submissive. Everything was a fight with her, even sex. She was sure she'd fight against you a bit and yet she seemed to be listening, acting and open to everything you were doing and had yet to do.

"Let's take this to the bedroom." You say, as you removed your clothing tossing them along the way. One look at Shuri had her doing the same.

You laid on your back and gestured for Shuri to climb on top of your strap. You had no plans of giving Riri the strap at the moment. You wanted to push her buttons and sexually frustrate her.

As she sunk on you both moaned simultaneously. The strap curved at the head to rub against her g-spot instantaneously. You gave her free reign to do as she pleased, watching as she bounced on top of you, her perky, small tits bouncing as she rode the strap.

Your eyes were focused on where the strap met her pussy, watching as it went in and out. You could already see her cream lining the strap as she fucked herself on your strap. Fuck, you wanted to eat that creamy pussy so bad. But you had a lesson to teach.

"Riri sit on my face." You said, to which she quickly joy obliged. She didn't seem shy about it either, she placed her pussy right on top of your mouth. Her pussy smelled heavenly. You stuck your tongue out and licked, savoring her taste. She had a tart but sweet taste.

You started licking her pussy, your tongue drawing different designs into her pussy. You were skilled at making a pussy flutter and Riri was getting first hand experience in it. She rode your face as you ate her pussy with fervor.

Shuri watched as you ate Riri out, her stomach clenching as she felt the strap stretching her walls and hitting her spot. She was so fucking close, she felt the familiar warmth as you started to thrust up to match her thrusts.

"Ohhhh! Demethi, Undenza ndizive kamnandi sana....(Damn, you are making me feel so good baby). " Shuri cried out as she felt herself getting closer and closer to orgasm. Riri feeling bold, turned so she was facing Shuri as you licked her pussy painstakingly slow.

Riri leaned all the way forward and started licking and sucking Shuri's clit. She watched as you slammed the strap up into Shuri, her tongue slurping the cream leaking from her pussy and swiped her tongue along your strap. You twitched as Riri, pressed her pussy into your face harder trying to force friction. Fuck you wanted to make her pussy gush all over your tongue and face but you weren't going to give her an orgasm so quick.

"Oh.... Fuck, Fuck, Fuccccckkkk." Shuri cursed losing her filter as you hit her sweet spot inside of her. She couldn't handle the tongue on her pussy and the strap drilling her at the same time. She groaned as she squirted all over your strap.

Riri gasped as Shuri's fluids hit her face. She slurped at her pussy, as you continued to pound into her still splashing pussy. The sight had her so aroused her clit started to pulsate against your tongue. You bit on her clit, not hard enough to hurt her but enough to set her body on fire. She arched her back as she felt the urge to cum. You moved her off of your face, stopping her orgasm before it could happen. She was pissed.

"You don't get to cum yet." You informed her. "You have to earn that right."

You could see her wetness spreading over her thighs as she clenched them together. You maneuvered yourself so Shuri was lying on her back and you were on your knees. You bent your head to get a taste of her succulent pussy and sighed. You rubbed her creamy nectar over your strap as you sucked her pussy.

Your tongue was swiping over her clit, as you licked from her clit to her rosebud. You moaned as her hips jerked to get closer to your face. You licked her ass, enjoying how crazy she went as your tongue swiped along her tight hole.

Riri watched im frustration. She couldn't help how wet she was getting at the sight of you and Shuri together. She never thought she'd feel like this. She'd spent so long angry at how close you and Shuri were and it got to the point she couldn't have sex with Shuri without wondering if she measured up to you.

Seeing how you had Shuri writhing and moaning, it was more than obvious she clearly couldn't compare to you sexually. Yet instead of the envy, anger and self consciousness all she could feel was lust. She felt like she could cum from not being touched at this point with the way her pussy was aching.

You pulled away from Shuri's ass and grabbed her legs pushing her knees into her chest. You loved seeing her in this position, and you could hit her so deep. You thrust the strap into her without warning, hearing her cry out.

You couldn't help the smile on your lips as you pounded her sweet pussy, every inward thrust damn near hitting her cervix. You were so deep and she loved it. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open as she screamed out. You loved when Shuri let you fuck her like the needy little whore she was.

You paused and took one of the kimoyo beads off of your bracelet and placed it on Riri's clit.

"Griot, make that bead vibrate. Keep it between a low and high setting. The moment she starts to pulse against the bead, stop then once she's calmed down continue." You ordered Shuri's AI. Shuri had never used him to aide her in the bedroom so when she heard your words the look on her face would have been comical if you weren't so aroused.

"As you wish Y/n daughter of Wakanda." Griot said.

As the bead started to vibrate against Riri's pussy, you started back fucking Shuri. You gripped her throat in your hand and slammed into her as you choked her. You loved the way her pussy clenched as you squeezed her throat.

"Uhhhh...." Shuri groaned as you fucked her so deep. You watched as her pussy sucked you in, and went faster.

"Please...." You heard Riri beg, as the vibrating stopped. You knew she was desperate for a release.

"Tell. Your. Little. Brat. Just. How. Good. I. Make. You. Feel. Entle." You slammed into her hard with every word, squeezing her throat tighter. Drool was falling from the corner of her mouth as you beat her pussy.

The vibrating started again and you felt a smug satisfaction Tun through you as Riri cried out. You'd seen just how needy her fat pussy was, you knew she was going out of her mind. You placed a second bead on her clit beside the first one all while pounding into Shuri.

"High speed Griot, and once she starts pulsing stop again." You ordered and listened as the vibrating got louder.

"Y...You.... m...make... m..me... f..feel... ssss...sooo... f..ffffuuuccckkking... g..good." Shuri screamed, her voice hoarse. She was slick with sweat and her legs were shaking as you continued to fuck her.

"Fuck!!!!!!" Riri shouted, she was shaking. As the two beads had her vision becoming hazy. Just as she was about to cum, the beads stopped simultaneously and she let out a gut wrenching cry. "Please....."

"Hmmmm. Sthandwa should I give her what she wants?" You ask Shuri. Shuri's eyes opened and she stared at Riri who looked pitiful. Her body was glistening with sweat, she had tears in her eyes and her poor clit was swollen and larger than she had ever seen it.

"Yes..." Shuri folded, not having the heart to see Riri so distressed and needy. You kept the rhythm until Shuri came, gushing all over you and the bed. She looked exhausted as you removed the strap from her pussy, watching as the hole gaped a bit.

"Riri if you want to cum, you need to make me cum." You declared. You made the strap disappear to reveal your soaked pussy and watched as she pushed you beside Shuri on your back. She climbed on top of you and started to rub her swollen pussy on top of you, sobs escaping her as your pussies slid against each other.

You were already wound up from fucking Shuri. The pleasure you got from scissoring with Riri was like nothing you'd ever experienced. Her pussy fit perfectly with yours like no one's ever had. A warm mouth on your nipple had you staring at Shuri's head covered in curls. You moaned as she sucked on your nipple with her skillful tongue, while rolling the other nipple in her mouth.

"Shit..." You hissed as you came quicker than you thought you would. Riri's pussy clearly had the magic touch because scissoring never got you off that fast. Riri feeling your gooey fluid, moved faster. Her pussy was throbbing and her eyes were rolling into the back of her head as she felt the coil snapping inside of her.

"Yesssssssssssss." She screamed, as she gushed on top of you.

"That was so hot..." Shuri muttered watching as Riri collapsed beside you, catching her breath.

"You're such a softy." You teased Shuri. You'd planned on letting Riri suffer a bit longer then when she felt like she was losing her mind, you would fuck her with your thicker strap until her pussy was swollen and sore for a few days so she'd be reminded NEVER to put Shuri through what she had again.

"You love it." Shuri smiled, placing a kiss on your lips.

"Riri..." Shuri started, but she stopped not sure what to say. She wasn't sure she could continue the way things had been. And after what had just happened, she couldn't fathom things going back to the way they were.

"I should give you both some space to talk." You said, knowing they had a lot to figure out. You climbed off the bed but froze as you felt a small hand grasp your wrist.

"Stay..." Riri whispered. She never thought she'd ever utter those words to you but after the night you all had just experienced she didn't want you to leave.

"I--"

"Shuri loves you..." Riri muttered, her voice low. You could tell she was struggling to say what she was saying. "Shuri's in love with you, and up until today I was jealous and angry but... something happened. I don't know what. But I'd like to explore it."

"Oh Ri.... is this why you've been acting the way you were acting." Shuri sounded sad. You didn't dare turn around. You'd spend years trying to pretend you didn't feel much for Shuri other than the love of a friend, pretending you didn't lust after Riri.

"I love you both equally. There's no competition, You both have my heart. I tried for so long to ignore this because I figured Y/n wasn't interested in anything more and you seemed so put off by her.... I never considered this a plausible possibility.." Shuri admitted and you turned, wanting to see both their faces.

"I'd like to try a relationship." Riri fumbled with her hands. She was nervous of what you'd say. Shuri had said you were a player, you never took anyone serious and the thought of you touching other women after being with them had her stomach turning.

"Are you sure?" Shuri wanted to be sure Riri was 100% ok with the idea of trying a relationship with Y/n. It was half the battle in her eyes, she wasn't completely sure you'd want that. You'd never done relationships, stating they were messy and you hated commitment.

"I want you both... I think deep down I've always thought about it even when I felt jealous or even angry." Riri wouldn't look up as she admitted what she wanted.

"I want to try too." You said, shocking the pair in front of you.

Riri's eyes met yours and she launched herself into your arms. You grasped her tightly as her legs locked around your hips.

"Make me yours..." She begged.

And like that. You'd done exactly what the little brat wanted, giving in as Shuri had. Making love to her, slow and full of passion.

As the three of you slept in the spoon position, you could only think that you all fit together perfectly. From tallest to shortest. You, Shuri and Riri.

-

Until next time 💥

[captainsophiestark]

Corn Maze

Bones McCoy x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Trek

Summary: Y/N's best friend dragged her into a corn maze at the local harvest festival to celebrate finishing their last round of Starfleet exams. She quickly losesher friend in the maze, but luckily, she's not the only one with a friend who drags her into ridiculous situations.

Word Count: 1,772

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Why did I let my friends convince me this was a good idea?" I mumbled, rubbing my arms to try to stay warm. The sun had set while I was trapped in the corn maze, and now it was getting a little too cold for comfort.

I wandered a few more steps through the maze, looking for any sign of my friends or an exit. Nothing.

Why did I let them talk me into this? Worse, why did I agree to split up?

I never realized before, but corn took on an eerie quality in the dark. The stalks rustled slightly in the breeze, and I felt goosebumps run up my spine. It felt like someone else was there with me, just beyond the next row of corn...

Cautiously, hating every minute of it, I tip toed towards the next corner in the maze. I tried to settle my nerves, but when I turned the corner I came face to face with a strange, shadowy man.

"AH!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, jumping back and flailing my arms out in front of me.

"Ah! Dammit!" yelled the man, also jumping back and clutching his heart. I heard him grumble something under his breath that sounded like "I'm gonna kill Jim."

"Who are you?" I demanded, getting my wits back. I stayed tense, ready to take off running at a moment's notice.

"Name's McCoy, but you can call me Bones," he said, straightening up and looking me up and down. "Who're you?"

"Y/F/N Y/L/N. Why are you out in a corn maze after dark?"

"Ladies first," said Bones, crossing his arms and giving me an expectant stare. I squinted at him, trying to weigh my options. If he was some murderer out here, he probably would've tried to kill me already, right?

I sighed, giving in. "My friends and I are about to graduate from Star Fleet Academy. Since tests and everything are finally over, we decided to take the weekend to celebrate. They thought the corn maze looked fun, I got dragged along, we got separated, and now I'm here."

Bones scoffed. "That sounds familiar."

"Same thing happen to you?"

"Just about, except we've been out of the academy for a couple years now. Somehow he still manages to make me do stupid things like this."

"Yeah, I have a couple friends like that. I can already see them dragging me into the same stuff even five years from now."

Bones chuckled and shook his head, then looked back at me.

"Well, since we're both out of our element here, we might as well be in this together. Which way should we try now?" he asked.

"I came from one way, you came from the other. We're both still here, so there's only one option left," I said, pointing to the path ahead of us.

"I guess that makes as much sense as anything else."

We started walking, neither of us saying a word. It was pretty awkward, and I almost preferred the dark creepy corn maze silence. After a few more steps without a word, I decided to speak up and try to make things a little less tense.

"So, you're in Starfleet?" I asked.

"Yup. I regret it a lot some days, but I'm still here."

"What's your position?"

"I'm the CMO of the Enterprise."

I stuttered a step when he said that. Not only was he the Chief Medical Officer, which was incredibly impressive for someone his age, but he was the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise, the best ship in the fleet!

"Wait, seriously?" I asked, walking a little faster to catch back up to him. "That's amazing! The Enterprise is my dream placement. What is that even like?"

"You ever been hung over?"

Not the response I was expecting, I'll admit. Still, I tried to roll with it.

"Uh... once or twice."

"Imagine the worst hangover you've ever had, and then imagine that times three. That's what being the CMO of the Enterprise is like."

"Damn. You know, you sound pretty cranky and jaded for someone your age."

Bones sighed and looked up at the sky as we walked. He didn't say anything for a minute, but when he finally did, he sounded incredibly tired.

"I don't like space. The only reason I went up there in the first place was to get away from things here."

I hummed. "Fair enough, I guess. But is it really worth staying if there's nothing you like about it?"

He was silent for another long stretch, then finally, he spoke without looking at me.

"Space is dangerous and stupid. It's a true fact. But... there are worse things than living through the ridiculous nonsense I've lived through with the people on that ship. Sometimes it's even interesting."

I smiled to myself. I was starting to get a read on Bones, and he seemed to have a much softer center than he wanted to let on.

After a moment, he quickly cleared his throat.

"Besides, it's not like I have much choice. Those idiots wouldn't have survived half this long if they didn't have me."

I grinned. "Well, assuming my test scores are what I'm hoping they'll be, I can't wait to be one of those idiots in a few weeks."

Bones snorted and cut his eyes towards me. I just kept grinning at him, and after a minute, he sighed.

"Get us out of this corn maze, and then I'll decide how I feel about you becoming one of those idiots."

"Deal."

The task of wandering around in the maze became easier, if only because I now got to do it with someone else I liked instead of being cold and lost in the dark by myself. The two of us chatted as we walked, first about plans for escape but that quickly turned into talk about other things, from favorite animals to academy stories and everything else in between.

Slowly, Bones started to warm up to me, and I felt the same. I even managed to get a few smiles out of him, and I found my heart skipping a beat or two each time I did. It got to the point that I wasn't sure how quickly I wanted to find the exit anymore.

Still, we couldn't just wander the maze forever. Working together, we eventually managed to find some of the more worn paths of the maze, and it wasn't long before we turned a corner and found the exit.

I grinned, stopping short instead of walking straight out of the maze. Bones apparently took the cue, and he stopped too, turning to me with one eyebrow raised.

"I just wanted to say, before we go out there... this was fun. I'll never admit it to my friend, which is part of why I stopped before we got out there, but... I'm glad I got lost in a corn maze with you. And I hope we get to work together on the Enterprise."

Bones sighed, long and heavy, then finally looked back at me. After a moment, just when I'd started to get nervous, the corner of his mouth tweaked up into a smile.

"I'll never admit this to anyone again, so don't expect me to repeat it. But I might've had fun with you too. And I'd definitely like to see you on the Enterprise."

I grinned at him, and he shared a smile of his own briefly before turning back towards the exit of the maze. It was dark, so I couldn't be sure, but I thought I noticed a faint blush on the back of his neck, too.

We stepped past the final row of corn and were greeted by smiling faces. One I recognized as my best friend, and the other I recognized as none other than the Captain of the USS Enterprise. Apparently he was the idiot friend Bones had been talking about, and I honestly couldn't tell how I felt about that.

"Bones! You made it out! And you met a friend."

Captain James T. Kirk fixed me with the most sly, knowing grin of all time as he held his hand out to me for a handshake.

"Jim. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"...You too," I said. I couldn't help feeling a little starstruck, but the bubble popped a second later when Bones smacked him on the back of the head. I laughed, and any remaining tension faded as my friend joined us and introduced herself to Bones.

"So, your friend said you're hoping to join the crew of the Enterprise," said Jim, the beaming smile back on his face post-smack. I nodded.

"It's my dream posting, like most of the rest of the academy. Hopefully all that awful studying and test-taking will be worth it."

"It wasn't for me. But luckily, I have a good CMO and friend to help me when I need it."

Bones huffed and rolled his eyes, but I could see a smile fighting to break out on his face all the same.

"Well, since we've done everything here, we were planning to go get a late dinner somewhere," my friend said. "Do you two want to join us?"

Jim and Bones shared a look, and I took the distraction to whip around and look at my friend with wide eyes. She just grinned, nodding in Bones and Jim's direction to make sure I knew she knew exactly what she was doing. I just sighed.

"We'd love to," said Jim. "I even know a great place not far from here."

"Perfect."

The four of us started walking, Bones and I falling slightly behind our friends and walking side by side. I bumped him lightly with my shoulder and fixed him with a smile.

"So... the friends that ditched us are definitely paying for dinner, right?"

Bones laughed, and butterflies exploded in my chest at the sound. It didn't last long, but it was a real, full laugh, not a huff or a scoff, and I knew I wanted to hear that sound as many more times as I possibly could.

"Definitely. I might be glad I met you, but they didn't know that would happen, so they get no credit for it."

"Exactly."

We shared a smile, and then the two of us fell into comfortable silence, smiles still on our faces, as we followed our friends into our own brave new world.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

[georgiapeach30513]

Jen, marketing anon from last night!

I came to clarify some comments because I do not want people running to your page and miscontruing things and then bombarding you for no reason. There’s another blog on here that I’ve seen who works in the industry and she was not impressed with the interview either.

This is just my opinion and I am not confirming anything was scripted. But I can tell you I am 1000% sure that interviewer was reading from a page and she looked very very awkward and almost unrehearsed. It bothers me because she works for access Hollywood and they should know beyond better in my opinion.

I work in marketing, yes. My industry is tech - which means the people I work with are usually engineering nerds gone corporate. Very different vibes lol. But we just did a video recently celebrating a partnership with a very prominent bank and our CEO and the client participated in the video. They appeared in the video to be “answering questions” and bless them both, couldn’t make it more obvious they were reading from something on a screen (it’s in the eye contact). Also - the camera pointing right at them while they stare to their left and shift back and forth makes it even more obvious. However, these people are not entertainers, reporters, or actors. Them being awkward on screen is a little less cringe but still meh when this stuff gets posted on YT and Facebook.

Like I mentioned, I can tell that 1000% the AH interviewer is reading off something. Her eyes shifting back and forth and she’s clearly not staring at the camera though the camera is on her face directly. Something was awkward about it but she’s reporting for AH so that’s even more weird to me how unprofessional and very not camera comfortable she looked.

As for CE, he at least looked like he was answering from memory or making it look as such - but he is an actor. That’s what he’s supposed to do.

But I’ll say this: The way he sounded during most of the interview…wasn’t great. I’m not hating on him and I know he’s just doing what he’s told, answering questions that she asked him - but I mentioned the cut away from his face as he started to talk about “personal” stuff was very telling.

Old footage, as he talks over the images that basically don’t have anything to do with the dog food he’s promoting was interesting. To me, it felt like a shoehorn. You don’t see his face as he’s saying the personal stuff and people hear him mention someone’s name. Again.

In marketing, we often have to “insert topic” and add a word or name or buzz topic when we push or promote a campaign. Our writers and social media marketers have to somehow mention what we need mentioned somewhere in the promotion. It can be done in many ways and the intent is always to make it look organic but many times, it feels the opposite. When you’ve been in the field for a bit you can usually pick out the obvious tells of a marketing push, which is why I wanted to send that ask to you last night. Something sincerely doesn’t feel right about all this and I do feel bad because I can see fans who care so much about a celeb being upset that they’re getting yanked around.

But business is business. Please take care of your own mental health if something like this is truly getting to you.

I can’t put words into other people’s mouths but if my boss saw this interview and she was approving it to go live - she would have asked them to re record and ask him to put more life into it. 😂 Also, if the questions were pre approved he could have had a ghost writer come up with something more substantial to say. If this was coming from the heart, well…

Like you mentioned yesterday, that energy he had with his old costar at the walk of fame ceremony was what you can’t fake. He seems like a man who truly wears his emotions and heart on his sleeve and he was genuinely happy and fond of seeing his friend.

This interview though? Yikes. Again, people will see and hear what they want and take what they want from this.

I give this interview a 2/10 as well. 😝

Agree with all your points. To me it’s obvious she was reading from a script. The camera was too close to her face and we see her awkwardly looking to the side. He however, as you mention, does seem to at least “know his lines”. I don’t think it’s absurd to think these questions were pre approved and that he had his speaking points and what he was okay mentioning.

[differenteagletragedy]

how do you think cove would have reacted the moment mc told him they had a crush on his dad or mom at some point like

I can imagine him trying to keep it cool and going "oh, okay" but it really depends on which step it is cause i fwel like little kid cove would be like "ewww my dad is old" or something.

Like i wish there was like a scene in game where you can just tell cove about that and you can see his reaction because them briefly mentioning it in the baxter dlc feels like a tease tbh.

Well the thing is that I was replaying Step 1 some last night got to the part where Cove asks you what your favorite flower is, and I didn't realize it but I picked a different one and MC says something about how it's their mom's favorite flower, and Cove goes "that makes sense, it's pretty like her and you." I don't remember the exact phrasing, but he definitely calls one of MC's moms pretty and he did it first, so he can deal with you talking about his hot parents.

I love how you can name all the parents in the scene with Baxter, but I also love how at the end of Step 2 when Derek asks you if you like any boys you can be like "Cove's dad" and he's like "Haha, they didn't understand what I meant," like yes I did understand you Derek and I meant what I said.

-- Step 1 Cove would judge you and not be afraid to tell you about it.

You: My favorite flower is peonies, my mom likes them.

Cove: That makes sense, they're pretty like her and you.

You: (in awkward 8-year-old) Thanks, you're dad is pretty too.

Cove: Why would you ever say that to me.

-- That's the only way I imagine it coming up in Step 1, because 8-year-olds just say stuff lol, but in Step 2 when Kyra comes, MC has the choice to think that she's very pretty too.

You: Both of your parents are so pretty.

Cove: I ... what ... don't ... huh?

-- Step 2 Cove can't handle life and he certainly can't handle that. He's going to be giving you that side-eye for the foreseeable future. He might even get mad, but he can't stay mad at you for too long!

-- Really this is the only option for Step 2 Cove, he would just feel so awkward and embarrassed and want to crawl in a hole and die. But if he has a crush on you, he might one day be able to work up enough nerve to be like "Some people have said I look like my mom ..." and then you stare at you trying to make you understand that that means he wants you to think he's pretty too.

-- Step 3 Cove and beyond would laugh I think. He's more comfortable with his parents and more comfortable with himself. But that also means that he'd tease you about it/threaten to tell them.

Cove while you're planning your wedding: My dad is going to be wearing a tux, do you think you can contain yourself?

You: *endless suffering*

[short-honey-badger]

Shore Leave 5

Holy moly, did this one get away from me. Lotta stuff happens in this one, and we are introduced to the "antagonist." I guess you could call him.

Anyway! I hope you enjoy!

Shore Leave Masterlist

You wake with a soft groan, blinking your eyes open as you shift in your bed. You snuggle into your pillow and frown when the clothes you wear tug uncomfortably against the blankets. You never wear this many clothes to bed, so why are you now? Mortification burns through you when the memories of last night fly through your mind, and you scramble out of your bed, embarrassed beyond belief. How could you have fallen asleep so quickly last night? You were no stranger to late nights, and had thought you'd have the willpower to stay up.

You cringe to yourself. John must feel so awkward.

You slip from the bed and quickly change clothes, leggings, and a loose blouse with your cow print house shoes. You wash your face and brush your teeth and then bend to fish out a new toothbrush for John to use if he wanted to. Now that you feel refreshed, you slipped out of your bedroom and into the living room where you were greeted with the adorable sight of your new friend curled up on the couch.

The large man had to curl up a bit to comfortably fit, but he looked so at peace that you didn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, you quietly bypassed John and mosied into the kitchen to start on a hearty breakfast. Your fridge needed to be cleared out anyway.

The Master Chief woke to the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs. His blue eyes sprang open, and he bolted up, heart racing as he took in the unfamiliar environment. He relaxes when he recognizes your living room and slumps even further into the cushions when his sensitive ears pick up the sound of you singing. A tiny smile lingers on his lips, and John is tempted to fall back to sleep now that he knows that everything is fine.

A big fluffy orange tail gets his attention, and John leans down to pet Nami, who purrs thunderously at the attention. He scratches her for a while before he eases up from the couch and lopes to the bar that separates the kitchen and living room. John watches you cook, your shoulders drooped and relaxed as you sing a slow song under your breath and flip the Japanese style omelet gently back and forth in the pan. Beside you, there are two plates with seasoned, white rice and thick cuts of bacon and two glasses full of pulpy orange juice.

“Play the guitar, play it again, my Johnny

Maybe you're cold, but you're so warm inside.”

You sway gently to the beat only you can hear, humming the next part of the song as you finish up rolling the omelet. You pick up the pan from the stove eye and scoot to the plates where you lay the fluffy eggs across the mountain of rice.

“But if you're cruel, you can be kind, I know

There was never a man like my Johnny.”

You place the pan back on the stove, turning down the heat, and then grab the heavy plate, turning to go set the food on the bar and then go wake John for breakfast. Only to have the man in question staring at you from where he is already seated at the bar. You jump at the sight, and only the hard grip you have on the plate saves the ceramic dishware from the floor. You clutch your chest with your other hand and glare at John.

“You scared the shit out of me.” You grumble at him and set breakfast in front of the big man.

The grin that John wears is all worth the little jump scare when you catch sight of it. It looks more free than the tiny smiles and smirks that he'd given you last night. You wouldn't mind seeing more of it.

“Maybe you should pay more attention,” John quips at you and takes the fork from your outstretched hand. You roll your eyes at him and smack his fork away when he goes to dig into the omelet you'd slaved over.

“Hang on. Hopefully, this works,” you murmur and then take the knife you hold and slice the fluffy eggs down the middle. John thinks that your little coo of joy is the most adorable sound when you watch the omelet split open perfectly, allowing the steaming cheesy eggs to spill out. The smile you aim at him is even better.

“Bon appetit.”

John does it with gusto, and you turn away from the ravenous eating to fix up your own plate with the leftover egg mixture. The spartan is finished by the time you are plating your breakfast, and you are much slower in how you eat, savoring each bite and drinking deeply from your cup of coffee. You tell John to help himself to whatever is left in the pot and then point out the bathroom, and make sure to mention the new toothbrush you'd set out for him.

John does as suggested, draining his cup quick as a flash and then loping to the bathroom to wash up. You finish up and then wash up the dishes before settling on the couch and picking up your data pad left on the end table. Nami joins you on the couch, curling up on the arm and looking at you with big green eyes.

“You like him, too, huh?” You ask her with a grin and scratch behind her ears, making the fluff ball purr even louder.

You flip through a couple of articles and stop when your eyes catch sight of one of them highlighting a new exhibit at the local zoo. You grin as an idea comes to mind and set the tablet aside when John comes out of your bedroom.

“I've got an idea for a trip if you're up for it?” You ask him when he sits beside you on the couch. You grunt in surprise when the Chief suddenly grabs you around the waist and tugs you close, pressing you to his side before he dips and claims your lips in a kiss as sweet as pie.

John has been wanting to kiss you all morning. He is pretty sure he'd dreamed of you last night, the delicate press of your lips along his scarred skin. The curtain of your hair shields the two of you away from the outside world as you sat atop him.

His cheeks heat up at the reminder, and his hand finds the curve of your waist, squeezing gently before he pulls away, resting his brow along your own. John opens his eyes and meets your own, his lips curled in a smug smirk that makes you roll your eyes when you spot it.

“What kind of trip?” He asks you and boldly shifts again, lifting you as though you weigh nothing and sits you fully in his lap. His thumb swipes back and forth on the bit of exposed skin from where your shirt has risen up, and he leans back to rest against the cushions.

Your cheeks blaze at being moved as if you were nothing but a doll, and your thighs tingle from where they are pressed on either side of John's long legs. You lick your lips and force your mind to get back on track and not think of just how big the Master Chief is.

“W-well, there is a new exhibit opening at the zoo. I thought it would be fun for us to go.”

The Chief stalls in his tracks. The zoo? He's never had the chance to go to one before. He is silent as he recalls the last time he'd been even close to one and frowns when his memory provides him with images of destroyed animal enclosures, glassed over by the covenant. He comes back to himself when you wrap your hand around his free wrist and squeeze softly.

“I would like that,” He assures you and smooths his hand down so that he can tangle his fingers with your own. He raises his hand and presses his lips to the back of your knuckles, watching your eyes go half lidded in pleasure and wonders if you would look how you did in his dream. If only he had the nerve to touch you so confidently.

“Though I would like to stop by base to change, if you are okay with waiting for me?”

You nod easily, “Of course I'm fine with waiting.”

You wish you had the courage to ask if he wanted to stay with you through his shore leave, but you'd hate to come off as clingy, so you stay silent about it, and instead try and shimmy off his lap to no avail.

“I've got to get ready, ya know.” You point out, but John only shrugs at you and untangles his hand from your own so that he can cup your jaw in his big palm. He casts his blue-eyed gaze over you, smoothing his thumb up to slide over your bottom lip.

“I know, but I'd like to try something,” he says, and you dip your head in silent permission when he meets your eyes. His thumb puts pressure down, and you allow your mouth to fall open. John leans in and kisses you, his tongue sliding past your lips to tease your own pink muscle and explore the hot cavern of your mouth. You keen into the intimate kiss, not having expected him to do such a thing, but not unhappy about it. Instead, you push forward lips wrapping around his tongue and gently sucking on the muscle, causing a deep groan to rumble out of the Master Chief.

John isn't sure how long he kisses you, but he doesn't have any intention of stopping. He wants to know what other sounds you might make for him. The spartan isn't used to letting his more carnal desires take over, but he would gladly drop all his walls if he could know what you taste like.

Your lips are red and swollen by the time you have to break the heated exchange. Your stomach is tight with arousal, and you can feel his hardening length between your legs. You want to see it, but you close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath instead. You fall forward and rest your face against his chest, and John wraps his arms around you, making you feel like the safest person in the galaxy.

“I still need to get ready,” you mumble against his chest but make no move to get up. John just tightens his grip and presses his lips to the crown of your head.

Eventually, the two of you rise, and you hop in the shower just long enough for your normal routine before drying off and dressing in a pair of worn jeans and a nice shirt. Your tennis shoes are next since so much walking is in your future, and then lastly your bag and phone. John watches you lock the door after saying goodbye to Nami and then follows you outside and to the sidewalk.

It's a good thirty minute walk to the base that he is stationed at, and you have to assure him that you don't mind the journey multiple times. He keeps a close eye out while the two of you walk, his training kicking in even when he is supposed to “forget” who he is for these next two weeks. John wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he let something happen to you.

“You can wait in the lobby,” He says when you arrive at the large, dark stone building. You nod silently and follow him through the automatic doors, feeling a bit nervous coming inside. You've never had a reason to come here before, after all.

John leaves you waiting in a chair near the entrance of the building, and you flip through your datapad as you wait. You are interrupted soon after by a harsh clearing of the throat. You look up and see a man dressed in a crisp uniform, his face clean shaven and his dark hair cut at regulation. You can spot tattoos looping through his shorn hair. He is handsome like most military men are, his green eyes dark and full of curiosity.

“Can I help you with anything ma'am?” He asks, and his tone is friendly despite the permanent scowl on his face.

“No, but thank you, Sir. I'm just waiting on a friend,” you say with a smile and expect him to leave you be, only for the marine to sit down beside you and offer his hand.

“Major Dwight Baroque. It's nice to meet you, miss..?”

You shake his hand with a strained smile and introduce yourself quietly.

“May I ask who you're waiting for?” The Major says, and you answer slowly and realize that you only know John's first name. You'd never asked for anything else, though that was kind of the goal at the moment. You wanted John to feel human for once in his life.

“Ah, well. His name is John. I didn't ask, and he didn't tell me his rank or anything,” you say, a bit embarrassed about it now that you think about it.

The soldier chuckles and sits back in the seat, “Do you mind if I wait with you? Pretty women like yourself shouldn't be left alone for too long, ya know.”

You laugh and shift awkwardly in your seat and wish that John would hurry up and get out here. While you appreciated everything that the UNSC did, that didn't mean that you wanted one of them to flirt with you so badly.

“I'm sure you've got better things to do than babysit me,” you say and look up just in time to spit John stalking toward you, a deep scowl darkening his face when he spots the Major beside you.

“Actually, John is here now.”

You don't expect the marine to look at John and his face transform into something so rage filled that it's ugly. You gulp when the Major glares at you next, but your own angered confusion raises its head at his words.

“That's John? You know he's a freak right?”

You blink at him, jerking your head back as if you'd been struck. You stand from your chair, voice furious, “Excuse me?”

Baroque scoffs loudly and stands as well. He still looks tiny compared to John when the other man gets to your side. The Chief stands just behind you and reaches out to place a big hand on your shoulder, “_, just let it go. It's not worth it.”

“What? No. I want to know why he thinks you're a freak,” you snap back, incensed at the lack of fight in John's voice. Why wasn't he defending himself?

“Didn't he tell you what he was?” Dwight continues, and his tone turns smug, as if what he would say next would change your option about your new friend.

“He's a Spartan. Everything that he is came out of a bottle. He's nothing but a science experiment.”

You feel John tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening to the point of pain. You bear it with grace and glare at the smug Major.

“Well, now I know why he's so tall, at least.” You quip and reach up to curl your hand around his wrist, squeezing tightly to get the Spartans' attention. You aim a grin his way and tug his arm.

“Let's go, John. We shouldn't waste any more time.”

The Major seems flabbergasted at your lack of care over John being a spartan, but he quickly turns outraged and moves to step forward. John sees the way he goes to grab you and bodily moves you, putting himself in the way of the Major and glaring down at his superior officer.

“Have a good day, Major,” he growls and then escorts you out of the building before the other man could cause any more of a scene.

You huff and puff as soon as you are out of the building, an annoyed scowl on your face as you call the Major mean names under your breath. John watches you, and his heart lurches in his chest. You had stood up for him. You hadn't even cared that he was a spartan.

He doesn't stop himself from closing the distance and sweeping you up for a kiss, hands landing on your hips, and holding you close until he pulls away with a soft sigh.

“Thank you,” He whispers, and you shake your head with a small frown.

“You shouldn't have to thank me for showing you the same kind of kindness any human deserves. That guy was an idiot, and you should never listen to people like him. You are a hero, John.”

The Master Chief doesn't know what to say to all that, so he just kisses you again, and you can feel how relieved and happy he is knowing that you don't give a damn about what he is. His blue eyes shine when he pulls away, and then he leads you in the direction of the nearest bus transport.

“We should go before it's too late. I want to see everything,” John says, and you laugh in joy as you follow after him.

“Sounds good to me! Let's go!”

[ladykailitha]

A Valentine’s Day to Remember Eddie’s POV Part 1

This technically part 2. It will help to read this first. There are three parts like with the first story and will be put up once a day. I will tag for future parts if you want to be tagged, let me know. Preferably in the comments (I might miss them if you hide them in the tags ;) )

And the last part WILL be spicy. I will put the +18 under the cut so you know when it starts.

*

The Corroded Coffin boys were getting tired of Eddie mooning over Steve fucking Harrington. They didn’t have a problem with the guy himself. He had been a little douche-y in high school but they were so beyond the realm of King Steve that they weren’t even on the fucking map.

Nope.

The problem was how Eddie kept talking him up.

“Dude,” Brian sighed. “Just ask him out. You know he’s bi. You know he hasn’t dated in months. Just...something. Please, you’re killing us.”

Eddie growled. “It’s fine for you lot. You’ve all got girlfriends. You know, people you can actually take out in public and be all over without people throwing bricks at you.”

Jeff raised a single eyebrow at him.

Eddie deflated. “I know it’s hard for you and Kelsey, too. But of the two of us, I am more likely to get beaten to death for loving a boy then you are for dating a white girl.”

Jeff cocked his head to the side and then nodded. “Fair enough.”

“So go out of Hawkins for your date,” Gareth suggested. “Take him somewhere that even if people saw two dudes, they wouldn’t immediately clock you as couple.”

Eddie sighed. “This is King Steve with all the Harrington moves and shit. In what world would I be able to take him out on a date that he hasn’t been on a dozen times before.”

The other boys shared glances and grimaces. Eddie had a point.

Brian clapped Eddie’s shoulder. “You’ll come up with something. You always do.”

*

Eddie walked into Family Video to return a tape and chat with his two favorite employees.

They weren’t at the front so he wandered around trying to find them when he heard Steve whining to Robin: “I’m just going to work and then hide in my room until the fifteenth and hope to hell not too many couples come in looking for a romantic movie to ignore after fifteen minutes while they make out.”

Holy shit. This was perfect.

So Eddie did the smart thing and offered to take Steve out. Create the perfect date. Because from what it sounded like, everyone wanted the Harrington ExperienceTM but not actually Steve. And that was positively heartbreaking.

But now he had to plan. And one week to do it in. Eddie wasn’t worried, though. He had put together a four hour one-shot in thirty minutes. He just needed to do a little research first.

First stop: Nancy Wheeler

*

When Nancy came by after Hellfire Club to pick up Mike and Will Eddie pulled her aside for a moment.

“Hey, soo...” he hummed. “Not be all awkward or anything, but I’m taking Steve out for Valentine’s day and I kinda wondered...”

Nancy folded her arms and huffed. “You want to know what our dates were like?”

Eddie nodded shoving his hair in front of his face.

“Just normal date things,” she said. “Dinner and movies and stuff like that.”

Eddie frowned. “You didn’t do anything fun?”

“It was fun,” she insisted. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “It was! Though, I think a couple of previous girlfriends broke him of doing spontaneous stuff like picnics and bowling.”

“That’s really depressing, Wheeler,” Eddie said softly.

Nancy sighed. “Yeah, it kinda was. He liked that sort of thing, but I think the girls were expecting to be wined and dined because his parents were rich.”

“Noted,” he said. “Thanks.” He patted her on the shoulder and smiled.

She cocked her head to the side as he walked away. ‘You don’t want to know things like his favorite color or favorite dish or anything like that?”

Eddie turned around and grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She threw her arms in the air in frustration as he just skipped away.

*

His first stop after talk with Nancy and finding out Steve’s favorite flower, was the florist.

The little bell chimed over head as he walked in.

A very harried looking woman at the counter looked up at him in dread. “If you want roses you’re shit out luck. There is no place in the surrounding area that has them. Please don’t ask.”

Eddie grinned. “Then you, fair lady are in luck. Because I’m not looking for roses.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Yeah? What are you looking for then?”

He pulled out the piece of paper Steve had given him. “All-strow-mary-ahs?”

Her face cleared of fatigue and she blinked. “Alstroemarias?”

Eddie beamed. “That’s the one. I’m looking for six pink and six red.”

“Come with me,” the florist said waving him to follow her to the back room. Eddie bounced up to her and let her lead him to the cooler that held all her remaining flowers. The biggest section held these small lilies of every color. Orange, purple, blue, white, pink, red, even some with multiple colors.

“Are you sure you just want pink and red?” she asked, waving her arm at her selection.

“All these are al-alstr-” he stammered.

“I just call them alstroes,” she said taking pity on him. “It’s easier.”

Eddie sighed in relief. “So all these are alstroes?”

She nodded. “Pretty flower.”

He could only agree. The red ones were bright and not dark the way roses tended to be and the pink ones were the color of the blush on Steve’s cheeks when Eddie told him it was a unique choice. He loved them.

Eddie hummed. “Yup, just the two colors, please.”

The florist smiled. “When do you want them delivered?”

He blinked. “Um...would it…I mean, I would like to pick them up myself, if that’s okay.”

She shrugged. “Sure. People just prefer to get them delivered because the store could be pretty hectic that day.”

Eddie sighed in relief. “No, no. I want to hand them to them directly.”

If she noticed the absence of any gendered pronoun she wisely said nothing. “You can also write a card to go with if you’d like. Or you can choose a standard greeting.”

Eddie pursed his lips together and licked them nervously. “I’d like to write it myself.”

She handed him the card and a pen. He carefully wrote out the note, blushing darker than flowers he was about to buy.

He handed her the card back, shoving hair into his face.

The florist looked at the card and smiled. “The language of flowers. So that’s why you wanted the specific colors.”

Eddie nodded. “I got a book out from the library. Wanted to make Valentine’s day extra special.”

She filled out the order form and using a paper clip added the card to the front of it.

“When would you like to pick up the flowers?” she asked.

“4pm.”

She wrote it down. “All right that will be $3.95.”

Eddie pulled out his wallet and paid the amount. This was the hardest part. Spending the money to make Steve happy. Not that he thought he had to spend a lot on Steve. No, the problem was that Eddie wanted to. But he also knew he had to keep to a budget as to not completely blow this out of proportion.

*

Whenever Eddie needed to know something over the course of the week, he would just ask Steve. Because just because his favorite color was green two years ago didn’t mean that it was still his favorite color. Which coincidentally it wasn’t.

Steve had called it baby blue but it was more cerulean. It was a pretty color blue if Eddie was pressed. It certainly brought out the hazel in his brown eyes.

Which was not a thing Eddie noticed. No. Nope. Nope. Not at all.

He called the florist to update the order to new color of tissue paper to wrap the flowers in. The florist nearly sobbed in relief when he said he didn’t want pink, red, or white.

Eddie had agreed to take his sheep to the arcade because he was going to be busy on Saturday. He knew that realistically that most of them had dates anyway, and wouldn’t want play that day either, but it was still something he could do for them instead of DMing that week.

“Look, man,” Eddie was complaining to Dustin, “I have a budget for this shit, I can’t just go to the fanciest restaurant in town and drop $20 on dinner. Not to mention this late in the game, there is no way I’m even going to get a foot in the door let alone get a reservation.”

They were waiting in the Wheeler’s front room on Mike, who was taking forever.

Nancy’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m coming with you to drop the kids off,” she announced just as Mike walked out.

“What? Why?” Mike asked.

“Because I need to go to the store, and Eddie can take me,” she said in the tone that booked no argument.

Eddie shrugged. “There’s plenty of room, I don’t see why not.”

She smiled, wrinkling her nose and Eddie gulped.

Eddie picked up the rest of the gremlins and dropped them off at the arcade. He turned to Nancy and said, “So what’s this really about?”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m going to teach how to make Steve’s favorite dishes and then you can decide candlelit dinner at your place or a picnic. I don’t really care which.”

Eddie blinked and then eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you helping me?”

Nancy sighed. “The one Valentine’s day Steve and I had together, I spent looking into Barb Holland’s death.” She looked down at her hands. “She was my best friend and I hated not knowing what happened to her. Steve was supportive. Because of course he was. But I threatened him that if he bought me so much as flowers or chocolates, I was going to shoot him.”

Eddie winced. “And then the last two Valentine’s days were just shit for the guy...”

She nodded. “I don’t think Steve’s had a good Valentine’s day since elementary.”

Eddie chewed his lip. “All right let’s do this. What all do we need?”

Nancy’s smile was sweeter as she patted his cheek.

Part 2 Part 3

Tag List: @zerokrox-blog @bidisastersworld @swimmingbirdrunningrock @madamonsieur-silvrene @artiststarme @samcoxramblings @maya-custodios-dionach @bejeweledbaby @spreckle  @a-little-unsteddie @krazyperson @princess-josephina @wonderland-girl143-blog @plutoshelm @newtstabber@bookbinderbitch @darkwitchoferie 

[reigningqueenofwords]

Be Thankful

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word count: 1,353

Read on AO3

Part 8 of Looking for the Captain

By the time that Steve knocked on your door that evening, you’d already changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He paused at the door when you opened it, bowls in hand. “Is that my shirt?” He asked, eyebrow raised. “It looks like my shirt.” 

You looked down at it, then back at him. “I dunno. It was tangled in my laundry and it looked comfy. I figured maybe next time it was in the laundry it would get back to its owner.” You shrugged, letting him in. “How awkward was it after I left?” You asked. 

He sighed, handing you your ice cream. “Very, very awkward.” He admitted. Which was putting it mildly to him.

“Oh no.” You groaned, getting comfortable on your bed. “What happened?” 

“First off, he asked me if I have a thing for ‘his daughter’.” He chuckled lightly as you scrunched your nose. “I asked him if he had to word it that way, and pointed out that you’re your own person, and an adult.” He explained, watching you slowly take a bite of your ice cream. “He then called you his little girl-”

You made a face. “Ew.” You said softly. That was just wrong. 

“And said you’re off limits.” He finished. “I told him that he’s like my brother but this is between me and you, and told him you’d made some good points. About the whole me being on ice thing, and him knowing I’m not some random guy. I’m not abusive, and he knows I’m a good guy.” 

“Well, you are.” You smiled. “What did he have to say about that?” You were really curious. Bucky didn’t seem to be the type to back down. 

“Nothing.” 

You stared at him. “Nothing?” That seemed odd. “He seems very stubborn. I was expecting that he would try to counter that.” 

Steve nodded, finally getting comfortable. “Me, too.” 

“But, enough about that grumpy old man.” You nudged him lightly. “I believe we have a movie to watch.”

“What did you pick?” He asked, glancing at you, almost worried. 

You smirked. “I nearly picked American Pie, but I don’t think you’re ready for pie fucking.” You laughed as he choked on the bite of ice cream he was eating. 

“I’m tempted to say ‘language’, but I can’t think of how else you’d get that across that wouldn’t sound gross.” He wiped his mouth. “But, thank you. You’re right. I would like to not see that.”

“I actually picked something from the 50s.” You told him shyly. “I figured it would have been something if you’d had a ‘normal’ life back then and had kids.” You’d been trying to figure out something to watch, and it had caught your eye. 

He was surprised at that. It was a far cry from SAW, that was for sure. “What movie?” 

“Peter Pan. It’s from 1953.” Taking a bite of your ice cream, you hoped that he didn’t find that weird. He’d missed out on a lot of normal stuff, which wasn’t fair. He totally came across as the type of guy who would have settled down after the war and been a dad.

Steve surprised you with a soft smile. “That’s sweet. Put it on.” 

Once you’d both finished your ice cream, you’d set the bowls on your night stand and moved to use his lap as a pillow. Just over half way, he realized you were asleep. He’d let you sleep, and once the movie was over, he’d try to move you and tuck you in. 

He just didn’t expect to also nod off towards the end. He was that relaxed. 

Bucky went to see you, wanting to get to know you. Beyond fighting with you about being an adult. Reaching your room, he could hear music and remembered you were watching a movie with Steve. He gently knocked, and opened the door when he didn’t get an answer. He saw the pair of you asleep and glanced at the tv. The last thing he expected you to choose was what appeared to be an old cartoon. 

Quietly shutting the door, he sighed. He felt the need to hit something, he was beyond frustrated. “JARVIS, is Natasha awake?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Can you ask her to meet me in the training room?” He hoped to get some of this frustration out, and hopefully get her thoughts on everything. She wouldn’t hold back. He needed that. Natasha had seen you and Steve together more than he had, afterall. 

“She will be right there, sir.” 

Nat came in, dressed to train. “I take it something’s on your mind, Barnes?” She knew him too well. “Something happen with the people that are threatening her?” 

“They’re too quiet right now. That’s why I’m here.” He sighed, pulling his hair up into a low ponytail. “But that’s not what had me asking you here.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “This is about Rogers.” There was no question, it was a statement. 

He let out an unamused chuckle. “Yeah.” He nodded. “ Rogers .” 

“Alright. Let’s talk about it while I kick your ass.” She smirked. 

Before anything else was said, they began to spar, falling easily into it. “I know she has feelings for him.” He started, ducking. “I could tell by how she looks at him.” He was clearly upset about it. “I asked him if he had feelings for her, but he said that’s between them.” 

“Because it is.” Her voice gave little hint that they were actively sparring. 

“She’s my daughter!” He reminded her. 

She was unphased. “And?” 

“He’s like my brother.” 

“And? He’s not actually your brother. He’s a good guy, Barnes.” Like he needed reminding. “He can keep her safe. Say we keep her out of danger this time, and we train her to defend herself, what’s to say that in 10 years someone worse won’t go after her? She’s talented, and picks up fighting easily, but she’s not us.” 

He paused. “You’ve been training her?” He let out a noise as she got him in the stomach. 

“Since right after she moved in.” She informed him, locking her thighs around his neck. “We all take turns. With me she does stretching, cardio, and we alternate between weights and self defense. On her own she does yoga.” She slammed him onto a mat. 

“Does she train tomorrow?” He worked on getting himself free from her thighs. 

“Yeah, with me.” 

“I’ll be here.” He wanted to see what this training was. “Is tomorrow defense or weights?”

“Defense.” She said simply. 

Bucky didn’t like how things were going. This wasn’t what he pictured when he sent you to find Steve. He didn’t want you trained. He didn’t want you falling for his best friend. None of it. “I found them asleep together.” He told her. 

“Okay?” She didn’t see the harm. “They’re sleeping.” 

“It’s so weird to me. She won’t listen to me, even if I am her father.” 

“She’s a lot like you. Stubborn and hard headed.” She threw a punch. “And put yourself in her shoes. She’s lived her whole life thinking you’re some deadbeat, and then out of nowhere you send her a letter about being in danger. Then you show up expecting her to act like she’s known you her whole life. She’s an adult. She’s in college for pre-med.” He had to understand that. “I’d try to be her friend more than anything. Not some authority figure. Let her make her own choices, and just be there for her.” 

While she was probably right, he didn’t know how he was supposed to do that. “How am I, as her father, supposed to not say anything about her tiny dresses? Or being like that with my best friend?” He asked. 

“Remind yourself that to her having a father is some abstract idea.” She stopped sparring, just watching him. “The more you try to act like one, the more she will push back. It might just make her do more things that piss you off.” She gave his arm a pat. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders, be thankful.”