#they will only have eyes for her and ask her questions while I’m right there too
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3
fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child
17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?
You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort.
You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years.
"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her.
"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked.
“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.
“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.
The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work.
The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.
You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already.
Silence.
You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage.
Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair.
It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.
Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile.
“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes.
The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts.
"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning.
“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded.
She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.
Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”
“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.
"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone.
They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged.
You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers.
Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world.
In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home.
So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly.
When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”
So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages.
Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.
‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either.
Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle.
“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs.
“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cari��o how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh.
“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled.
Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness.
“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down.
Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror.
“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear.
“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.”
Oh, Vicky, if only you knew.
As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on.
You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.
You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it.
You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.
Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant.
You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment.
You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat.
You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory.
It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers.
You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously.
You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home.
As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you.
By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.
That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.
You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.
You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened.
You gasped when you saw it.
You have the potential to be one of the greatest.
— Mapi
You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow.
For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training.
You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.
TacklerCulers
tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.
barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?
alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.
b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.
Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.
#mapi leon x reader#barcelona femeni x reader#fcb femení#woso#woso community#mapi leon reader#fc barcelona#fcb femeni#barcelona women#barcelona femeni#ingrid engen#ingrid engen x reader#imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#fcb femeni x reader#idk why i did that#yes i made the meme#it's funny in my head but is it really#barcelona femeni x teen reader#teen reader#platonic#mapi leon x ingrid engen#mapi leon x ingrid engen x teen reader
283 notes
·
View notes
Text
Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy
I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.
Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –
NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.
It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –
Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.
By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.
The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?
Absolutely.
Do I know why?
Absolutely not.
Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.
Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).
In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.
Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.
Moving along…
On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.
I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”
By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.
Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.
But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.
Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?
Oh, that’s right, because they were.
Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.
I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.
After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.
I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.
Me: “So what do you think?”
Dad: “About what?”
Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”
Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”
Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”
Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”
Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”
Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”
Thanks, Dad.
You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).
Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.
First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.
Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.
Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.
Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.
Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.
Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?
Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.
Uhh… Huh. Interesting.
I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.
But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.
Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.
Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?
So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.
That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.
358 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sandcastles
Summary - Mapi and Ingrid have Rudy for the weekend. Rudy learns not everyone is so nice.
WC - 5,954
Warnings - slightly suggestive, homophobic, swearing
“Are you excited, princess?” You smiled as you tied Rudy’s shoelace.
“Sí! When are they coming?” The four year old asked as she stared impatiently at the front door.
“Tieta Ingrid just texted me to tell me they’ve already left. So, they will be here soon.” You reassured her.
Rudy huffed out a deep sigh, a sigh so deep you'd think she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. But to be fair to her, patience wasn't a trait she had mastered as a four year old just yet. Though she wasn’t the worst, she had more patience than her mother.
“Why don’t you go grab your football, you can take it with you.”
“Yeah! I can play football at the park. Tieta Mapi will like that!”
You watched as the excited curly headed blonde jumped off the wooden bench in your hallway, running past her twin in an excited hurry and into her bedroom.
“Where are they? They said they would be here for 11.” Alexia asked as she rounded the corner, stopping to put Rudy’s water bottle in her sleep over bag.
You looked at your watch, it was only 10.37.
The Putellas and patience was like water and oil. It just didn’t mix.
“Ale, it's not even 10.40 yet. They live a 2 minute walk away and Ingrid has already texted to tell me they've left. Calm your tits.” You chuckled to yourself.
But your chuckle quickly turned into a loud squeal that escaped your mouth as you suddenly felt yourself being lifted into the air, Alexia easily picking you up from behind. All while burying her head into your neck attacking your skin with heated kisses.
“Alexia!” You let out a loud cackle.
“My tits are calm, cariño.” She muttered into your skin.
“Hmm, seems like it.” You laughed as she finally put you down, but never letting you go. Her strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you from behind.
“I’m just a little excited.” She purred into your neck as she eyed you in the hallway mirror. “A weekend of just you and me.”
You melted into her familiar touch, allowing her to bring you closer. You couldn't deny that you were also excited. It had been a while since the two of you had a weekend just to yourselves and my god, you needed it.
Don’t get me wrong you loved being a mum, and so did Alexia. The day you brought that baby home your world had turned upside down in the best way possible. But as mothers you hardly got time to be with each other. If your time wasn't taken up by Rudy it was taken up by training, if it wasn't training it was school, if it wasn't school it was matches, if it wasn't matches it was house hold errands and so on.
Don’t even get me started on your intimate times, they were becoming few and far between. You were sure cobwebs had started to build.
So, yeah you both needed a little break with each other, and Ingrid and Mapi were always the first in line when it came to having Rudy.
“And what is it that you’re most excited for, Mrs Putellas?” You raised your eyebrow in question, but it was rhetorical. Just going by the way her hazel eyes stared at you, you knew what she was excited for and so were you. “Is it the time we’re going to get together? Catch up on house chores?” You teased her.
“Hmm.” She hummed, the deep rumble from her throat caused your eyes to flutter. “No, I’m excited to try that new toy-”
But before Alexia could finish that sentence and before your mind started picturing the visuals (the visuals you so desperately wanted to see) the sound of small feet came running back down the hallway.
Alexia was right, Ingrid and Mapi needed to get a move on.
“I have my ball.” Rudy beamed as she kicked her Barcelona ball towards you both.
Alexia kissed your neck, watching you in the mirror. “Hmm, later then?” She said in a hush tone that only you could hear.
“Next 5 minutes, more like.” You corrected her.
“Deal.” She gave you one last kiss on your neck before letting you go, checking Rudy's sleepover bag once more.
Alexia turned her attention to Rudy who was busy playing with her football. She could already see her football classes coming in handy, not to be biased but she was really skilled for her age, but you guess having two Ballondior winners for mothers came in handy.
The older blonde smiled as she watched her daughter attempting keepie uppies. Something she had tried to teach her.
“You got everything you need, princesà?”
“Sí.”
“Good. Now, let's go over the rules.” Alexia’s captain's voice suddenly made an appearance. “What do we not forget to say?”
“Please and thank you.”
“Good. And what do we not do?”
“Erm,..... erm,..... erm.” Rudy got distracted as she kicked at her ball.
“Rudy.” Alexia easily captured the ball with her own foot, flicking it effortlessly into her own hand.
You found yourself staring at your wife. God, she was hot when she was being the ‘strict’ parent. Okay, yeah, you really needed this weekend.
“What do we not do?” She repeated herself, her tone more serious.
“Run off and talk back.”
“Good. Remember to listen to Tieta Ingrid make sure you’re always by her side when you're outside, si?”
“ Sí.” The smaller blonde nodded.
“And Tieta Mapi, Mama.” You reminded Alexia.
Alexia nodded slowly. “Sí, and Tieta Mapi.” She rolled her eyes. “Just make sure Ingrid always knows where you are.”
“Alexia, that was one time. We found her in the end and Mapi felt so bad, she didn’t stop saying sorry for about three months.”
The blonde nearly broke her neck as she turned to you, her hazel eyes wide in horror. “Mapi only had to watch her for 2 minutes! And she couldn't even do that!”
You rolled your own eyes but you kind of agreed with Alexia. You loved Mapi but the girl was maybe sometimes a little… forgetful.
Your buzzer for your building door rang out, setting off a very excited four year old.
“They're here! They're here!” The girl jumped up and down, her curls bouncing with her.
Alexia grabbed Rudy’s jean jacket and helped her put it on.
You opened your apartment door to see Ingrid and Mapi walking down the hallway, smiles stretching on both of their faces.
“Chicken!” The Norwegian called out.
“Chica!” Mapi shouted loudly as she began to run towards the squealing girl.
Rudy was engulfed in a tight loving hug as she also ran towards her aunties.
“Aye! You’ve got so big! I thought I told you to stop growing?” Mapi said as she put Rudy down.
“I can’t stop growing!” The blonde giggled loudly, her gappy teeth all on show as Mapi pocked at her stomach.
“Hello chicken.” Ingrid knelt down to Rudy’s level as she was embraced by the tightest hug a 4 year old could muster.
“Hello girls.” You smiled with your arms open.
All four of you gave your hugs and said your hellos.
“Whats your plans for the weekend then?” Mapi asked, already grinning at whatever PG version of your plans you were going to give.
“House work-”
“Cinema-”
Even Ingrid had to laugh at your unrehearsed replies.
“Ahh, sí, sí, housework.” Mapi sarcastically replied, sending an overly exaggerated wink at the pair of you. “House work sounds fun. I just hope it destresses you, Ale. You’ve been extra tense at training.” Mapi laughed as she elbowed her girlfriend.
You watched as your wife's cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink, her mouth hung open to rebuttal but she was clearly getting flustered.
“Cinema and house work sounds fun” Ingrid chimed in, saving the pair of you from the embarrassment while also giving Mapi the look. The defender promptly stopped laughing after that.
“Right, give us a cuddle, Rude’s. Be good for your aunties and have the best time.” You opened your arms open for your daughter who happily squeezed you tightly.
“Bye, bebita.” Alexia also received the tight cuddle from her twin. “Have fun.”
You watched the three walk down the hallway, but before shutting the door Mapi called out. “Have fun with the house work.” She cackled just before being dragged by the back of her neck and out the door.
—--------------------
Ingrid and Mapi held Rudy's hands as they swung her in the air.
“You’re so high, you're nearly in the sky!” Mapi laughed as they swung Rudy one last time before entering the playground.
Rudy’s smile beamed as she looked around the busy and colourful playground.
“What do you want to play on, chicken?” Ingrid asked as she stroked the little hand in hers.
“The jungle gym!”
“Fun! I love the jungle gym! Let's go!”
The three came up to the jungle gym, the sound of excited laughter and children playing coming from every angle.
“Come on then, chica!” Mapi shouted as she attempted to climb inside.
“Baby, I don’t think you can go inside.” Ingrid smiled sympathetically at her girlfriend.
“What? That's not fair I want to go in.” Mapi sukled.
“You’re too big Tieta.” Rudy laughed as she started to climb the rope to get inside the play area.
“Lets play with Rudy from the outside, okay?” Ingrid smiled as she stroked Mapi’s back.
“Fine.” The fully grown woman grumbled, her head hanging as she followed Ingrid.
“We’re right here Rudy!” Ingrid called out as the four year old began to climb.
“Okay!”
Rudy was then off on her adventure. She walked across the bouncy and roped bridge that hung high above the floor, while Mapi and Ingrid pretended to be monsters grabbing at her ankles. Laughing in hysterics when Mapi even pulled her shoe off.
She climbed further inside, coming to a stop at a red wheel that was attached to the climbing frame. Her imagination took over as she began to sail her pirate ship through stormy waters.
She climbed higher, crawling though a green caved tunnel, her ship abandoned as she was now exploring the tropical forest, running away from lions and tigers, better known as Ingrid and Mapi.
She was in her element, she loved the park, she loved playing pretend and making up her own little stories as she explored her surroundings. As an only child Rudy found it easy to play on her own, having been accustomed to being the only child in her family so far, besides from Mapi.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a people person, having grown up with her lifestyle of having two mothers that were very well known within the sports world she had picked up people skills early. Having to attend football training before she could crawl, or even the odd awards ceremony before she could count to 10. She was a charismatic and kind girl, always looking for a new friend wherever she could.
And she found her next playmate next in line to go adventure down the slide.
“I like your shoes.” Rudy pointed at the blue glittery shoes of the girl in front of her.
A face full of freckles turned around to look at Rudy, then down to her shoes. A small smile crept on her face.
“My mommy got them for me”
Rudy smiled back, her head nodding up and down approvingly. Her curls bouncing with her.
“I’m 4.” The girl stuck four fingers up, smiling at her own words.
“I’m 4 too!” Rudy’s hazel eyes widened in shock, amazed that someone else could possibly share the same age as her.
“Do you want to play pirate?” The little girl asked, her big brown eyes reminded her of her auntie Ona.
“Yeah! We have to make sure the sharks don’t eat us. There's loads below the ship!”
Rudy clearly was already in character. Maybe she was more suited for the acting career.
The girl’s eye widened in shock, also quick to get into character. “Quck, we need to get down this slide and we can get to our ship!”
Rudy nodded with the most serious face, looking just like her mother before a game.
“Okay, let's go!”
It was Rudy's now best friend's turn to go down the slide, having waited patiently like all the other kids. She grabbed hold of the rails to sit on her bottom until she was suddenly pushed right into Rudy, making them both tumble over.
“Hey!” Rudy shouted as she looked up to see an older and bigger boy pushing in front of everyone else. Clearly never having been taught manners.
Alexia would have a field day with him.
“Girls, can’t play on the slide.” He declared.
Rudy couldn't believe her ears, that's not what her mummy and mama told her! “Yes they can!” Rudy shouted back, a small bit of anger rising in her voice.
The boy stuck out his tongue before sliding down the plastic slide.
“Are you okay?” Rudy asked her friend who now had watery eyes.
She nodded sadly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Don’t listen to him. He's wrong, girls can do anything we want.”
That brought a smile to her friend's freckled face. Both girls got back up, dramatically dusting off the dirt that sat on their clothes, finally taking their turn down the slide.
Ingrid and Mapi had sat on a bench nearby, the Norwegian looked over at the jungle gym where she saw Rudy emerge from the slide.
“Rudy, come have some water.” She called out.
The little girl ran over with her best friend in tow.
“Hello, what's your name?” Ingrid smiled at the little stranger.
“Dotty.” She replied shyly.
“My name’s Rudy.” Rudy explained as she took the water bottle from Mapi. “Gràcies.”
Both women shared a smile at each other. It was funny how as a child you could seemingly be friends and not even know the other's name. Though, I guess you could say it was the same when you were drunk in a night club toilet, making life long friends with strangers you would never see again.
“A boy pushed us over.”
Mapi was up in a shot. “What? Where? Who? Show me him.” The defender scanned the play ground, ready to fight a child.
“Oh no! That's not nice, are you okay?.” Ingrid frowned as she pulled Mapi back down to sit on the bench.
“And he said girls can’t go down slides.” Dotty chimed in, giving even more drama to the story.
“Oh really? Maybe I should talk to him. Show him exactly what girls can do.” The defender jumped up once more, only to be pulled back down by Ingrid.
“I think you both should stay away from him. He doesn't sound very nice.” Ingrid tried to reason with girls, nodding at her own words.
Both girls mirrored her movements, thankfully agreeing with the older woman, even if her supposed adult girlfriend beside her didn’t.
“Where do you want to play now?” The doe-eyed girl asked, having already forgotten about the incident.
“Hmm.” Rudy stuck her tongue out in thought. “The sand box.”
“I love the sand box! Let's go.” Dotty grabbed Rudy's hand in hers, running to their next adventure. Leaving Ingrid to remind Mapi why fighting a child isn't socially acceptable.
“Do you want to build a sandcastle?”
“Sí.”
The girls got busy building their sandcastle. Happily sharing the toys in the sand box and even helping the other when stuck with a tricky part of the structure.
“Is that your mama?” Dotty pointed over at Ingrid who was watching Rudy while also having her ear chewed off by her girlfriend yapping about the grass.
“No. She’s my Tieta Ingrid and she's my Tieta Mapi.” You smiled, waving back at Ingrid who noticed Rudy pointing.
“She looks like a princesà.” Dotty said as she stuck a leaf into the wonky but sturdy sandcastle.
“Sí.” She agreed as she got back to work. “My mummy and mama are at home.”
“You have two mama’s?” Dotty looked up from her bucket.
“Sí.” The curly headed girl nodded, smiling at the thought of her mothers.
“That’s so cool! I wish I had two mama’s! I only have one.” Dotty pouted at the unfairness.
“They’re lesbins. So are my Tieta’s.” Rudy explained, though she wasn't completely sure on what she was explaining, she just knew that’s what her mums were and many other women around her.
“Wow! I want to be a lesbin.” Dotty sat in thought, not having a clue what she was talking about.
The girls got stuck further into the castle, actually managing to make a decent sized structure. Rudy almost didn't notice the new arrival in the box as she began to make a mot.
The little boy had been quietly watching Rudy and Dotty build the castle from afar, slowly inching closer every few minutes, wanting to play but just being that bit too shy to ask.
Rudy looked up to see the shy boy sitting on the side of the box. His curly hair reminded Rudy of her Tieta Vicky, his tight curls hair sitting beautifully just above his shoulders.
“Do you want to play?” Rudy asked as she handed him a plastic shovel.
His little face lit up from being asked, he nodded and gently took the plastic from her hand.
“We’re making a river around the castle and then we’re going to put sharks and crocodiles inside so the bad guys can’t get us.” Dotty informed him of their masterplan.
The little boy smiled as he started to dig, loving the idea of all these animals protecting the castle.
“W-we should also put lions around it for more protection and they can have wings so they can fly and look for the baddies."
Rudy and Dotty looked at each other then back at the little boy. Eyes wide with excitement.
“Thats so cool!”
“That’s the best idea ever!”
The little boy chuckled gently to himself, happy that his idea was clearly liked by his new friends.
All three got into digging the mot, happily playing in their own little bubble, sharing the odd joke only a 4 year old would find funny, and maybe Mapi. The girls had even found out in the midst of chatter that the little boy's name was Leo and low and behold he was also four! Of course Rudy was in utter shock. Another four year old? You just couldn't make this up. But soon to be five. That was very important to know.
Leo stood up to unzip his jumper, getting hot in the summer sun.
Rudy nearly fell over when she noticed the t-shirt Leo was wearing. He was only sporting the Barcelona kit.
“My mummy and mama play for Barcelona! They were that kit!” Rudy shouted joyfully.
Leo looked down at his top, pulling the fabric to see what Rudy was so excited about. But being only four and not completely in charge of his wardrobe (because apparently you can’t wear your spiderman costume to school) he wasn't at the age of really dressing himself he wasn't sure what the clothing really meant, he knew it was something to do with football but that was about it.
“Do you play Barcelona?” Like I said, he wasn't up to date with the rules and regulations of the sport.
“Not yet, but when I’m bigger I will..” Rudy beamed confidently.
“I’ll be Barcelona when I'm bigger too.” Dotty nodded, more than happy to jump on the career wagon.
“Me too!” Leo giggled, excited to be part of something that clearly seemed to be the coolest thing ever.
Leo began to talk about his upcoming birthday party and had even invited the girls, though he wasn't sure on the date or time or address, but he was certain his mummy would know, and that was enough for the girls.
It was all going well, all three kids were chatting happily until an uninvited guest appeared.
“Why are you playing with girls? They’re not fun to play with.” The boy sniggered, kicking sand towards the group.
Dotty’s wide eyes looked up at the bigger boy, the very same boy who had meanly pushed her and Rudy over earlier.
Rudy kept quiet, not wanting to give the boy any form of interaction, just like Tieta Ingrid said to do. But Leo hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the bigger boy just yet, so he didn't catch on that this kid was bad vibes and basically unwanted company.
Leo looked at the boy then back at Rudy and Dotty, he couldn't understand the issue, they were his friends and he was having fun with them.
“They’re m-my friends.” Leo’s soft voice was just about audible.
“Well, you should play with us. We’re going to play football. You can be on the Barcelona team.” He pulled roughly at Leo’s shirt, clearly knowing the kit.
“Can my friends play too?” Leo asked, voice timid.
“No. Girls can’t play football.” The bully scoffed.
No, way was Rudy going to let that slide.
“Yes they can! My mummy and mama play football, they play for Barcelona!” Rudy stood up, her patience was starting to run out with this boy. And we all know the Putellas don’t have much patience.
“You’re so stupid, you can’t have two mums, dumb brain!”
Dotty wasn't having that. “Yes you can! Rudy has two mamas!” She bit back.
“No you don’t and they don’t play football.” The boy’s foot came close to the sand castle.
“Yes they do!” Dotty now stood up on her feet, ready to scrap for her life long best friend of 40 minutes.
“No they don’t! You’re a liar! Girls are stupid and can’t play football! You’re so dumb!” The boy’s face was turning a shade of pink, his anger getting the best of him.
“No! You’re dumb and you have dumb poo brains!” Rudy shouted loudly.
She knew her mums wouldn't be happy with her language right now, but nobody gets to diss her mums, especially this horrible and very obnoxious little boy.
Dotty began to laugh immediately, throwing her head back like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard anyone say.
I guess at 4 years old it was the ultimate diss to bring to the playground.
All three kids watched as the older boy’s face went from pink to red like a human chameleon, the embarrassment from Rudy’s words clearly hitting a nerve.
“No! You don’t even have a brain!”
But his words fell on deaf ears as Dotty’s laugh got obnoxiously louder.
And then the boy's temper boiled over like a volcano. He began to kick the side of the castle, making it crumble to the ground.
“Stop! Stop it!” Rudy shouted, her little fist balled up at her sides.
The bigger boy only ignored her and completely smashed the once impressive structure to the ground, laughing wickedly as he did it.
“You’re a bully and nobody wants to play with you!” Rudy shouted as she watched all their hard work being squashed under the foot of a spoilt little boy.
“Shut up!” The boy screamed so loudly the rest of the playground turned to see the commotion.
The bully then lurched at Rudy pushing her hard into the sand, quickly raising his chubby little fist in the air.
Rudy closed her eyes, her hands coming up to protect her face instinctively.
The boy brought his fist down hard, just in time to be caught by a bigger hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Mapi’s tone was hard.
Rudy felt herself being lifted up into the air. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Ingrid's words calmed her down instantly.
Rudy only nodded, her hazel eyes were on her auntie Mapi.
“Why do you think you can go around pushing people who are smaller than you? Matter of fact, why do you think you can go around pushing anyone?”
Rudy had never seen her Tieta Mapi like this before, she instantly felt like it was her fault that she was so angry.
The boy suddenly didn't have anything to say. He looked down at his feet, his lip began to wobble, clearly he had never had a telling off before. Even though Mapi wanted to go off on the boy she didn't want to make him cry or cause a scene. She let out a deep breath.
“Leave these kids alone. They don’t want to play with you.” She rolled her eyes as she shooed the boy away.
Ingrid felt Rudy go rigid in her arms. She stroked the girl's loose curls behind her ears and rubbed her back soothingly.
“Do you want to sit with us for a little bit or play with your friends?” Ingrid spoke softly.
“Sit with you a little bit.” Rudy whispered, a small pout poking from her lip, even Ingrid recognised that pout from the older Putellas.
“Okay.” Ingrid looked over at the two other kids who were still in the sandbox. “Rudys just going to sit with us for a few minutes, she'll be back soon.”
Dotty nodded, she leaned into Leo and whispered. “I think that one’s a princesà.”
“Wow.” The little boy looked over in wonder.
Mapi followed Ingrid to the bench, the four year old watched Mapi from Ingrid's arms, her usual happy self was nowhere to be seen and Rudy felt a weird feeling from it. Her tummy knotted up with worry. She was scared that she had been bad, maybe so bad that she wouldn't be able to stay with her aunties because they didn’t like her anymore.
Ingrid sat down with Rudy in her lap, keeping her close to her chest. “Do you want some water, cariño? Maybe a snack?”
Rudy shook her head, her hazel eyes misting over. Her little brain was going through so many different emotions. Mapi frowned at seeing how quiet the usually chatty four year old was. She worried the interaction had shaken her up more than she realised, but before Mapi had a chance to ask Rudy anything, a woman began to walk over with an angry step.
“Who do you think you are? Shouting at my son!” The woman raised her voice loudly.
Mapi scoffed. “No one shouted at your son and just so know he was about to hit my god-”
“Oh yeah, that's right. He said it was the one with two mothers. It's disgusting that you homo’s think you can just throw your sexuality anywhere you go, now you bring it to a park full of children. It's filth. And forcing a child into your sick lifestyle? You should be ashamed of yourselves.” The woman spat out, screaming at this point.
Mapi felt her chest tighten, the words didn't hurt her, she was more worried about Rudy and what this meant for her. She took a deep breath, ready to argue.
“You-”
“Hold Rudy please, sweetie.”
Mapi was cut off as she took Rudy from Ingrid, watching confused as her girlfriend stood up calmly from the bench.
Ingrid smiled all too sweetly before she cleared her throat. “I have had to watch your brat son bully most of the children in this playground. He has pushed, pulled and was even a second away from punching my god daughter in the face, after already pushing her for the second time. This is the first and only time I've seen you bother to step in, and that's only because you don’t like that your child has actually been told off for maybe the first time in his life.”
Mapi and Rudy hugged a little tighter as they watched the normally calm Norwegian continue to tear this woman a new arsehole
“You think you can come over here and have the nerve to tell us anything about our "lifestyle" when you can’t even control your child? Don’t make me laugh. Why don’t you and your son worry about your own selves? You clearly have no manners and neither does he. So, I suggest you take yourselves away, have a good look in the mirror and maybe find some decorum. Because frankly you should be the one ashamed of yourself.”
The woman couldn't believe her ears, she looked around the playground at the other parents hoping to get some kind of backup, but nobody came.
Ingrid’s sweet smile stayed on her face as she watched the woman's face turn red in embarrassment, just like her devil child.
“You- you… ergh!” She stammered before grabbing her son's hand and leaving in an embarrassed huff.
Ingrid watched the woman walk off, catching a few thumbs up from the other parents that also shared her thoughts. She let out a sigh before turning around, the anger that had just been at her forefront melted instantly at the sight of Mapi and Rudy clinging on to each other like kola bears.
Mapi stared at her girlfriend in complete shock, but also adoration, she had never seen that kind of side to her before.
“You okay, baby?” Mapi asked Ingrid.
“Yeah. People are just so ignorant.” She shook her head as she stroked Rudy’s hair.
“Are you angry at me?” Rudy's small voice squeaked out.
Both of the women looked at each other then back at the little girl, clearly shocked at the question.
“No, Rudy! We aren't angry at you!” Mapi hugged the little girl tighter. “We were upset that the little boy pushed you. I didn’t like seeing you getting hurt.”
Rudy looked up at Mapi’s soft brown eyes, she nodded her head, grateful to understand the anger wasn’t directed at her.
Ingrid sat down next to them. “You could never make us angry, Rudy. We love you so much.” She smiled kindly at the little girl.
“Unless you became a Real Madrid supporter,” Mapi joked as she pocked Rudy’s stomach, making the girl laugh loudly. All her worries completely vanishing.
“That woman was angry.” Rudy declared.
“Well, she said some very mean things and Ingrid just had to remind her that you can’t go around bullying people.” Mapi smiled as she stroked Rudy’s cheek.
“He said girls can't play football, it made me angry because they can! You and my mummies play football!” The little girl frowned, confused why someone would think otherwise.
“Sadly, not everyone thinks like you, sweetie. Some people don’t agree that women should play football. But a lot of people do! You see them at the matches don’t you?”
Rudy slowly nodded her head, trying to take in the information. Ingrid could see the cogs turning in her head, she didn't want to overwhelm the girl with too much negative information. The blonde girl looked over at her friends that had stuck up for her, they didn’t think that way. It was a surprise to hear people would be so mean. Her four year old brain was still learning so much about the world.
Ingrid followed her eyes.
“Do you want to play with your friends for a little bit then we’ll head back to our place?” Mapi asked as she dusted some sand off of Rudy’s back.
“Sí.” Rudy nodded.
Ingrid smiled as she gave both Rudy and Mapi a kiss on the forehead.
Rudy spent another twenty minutes with her friends before Leo had to say bye. Promising the others that they would see each other when playing for Barcelona in the future.
“Ready, Rudy?” Ingrid smiled as her and Mapi approached the sand box.
“Sí. Bye Dotty.”
“Bye Rudy. Bye Rudy’s tietes. I’m going to be a lesbin too, just like you.”
Ingrid and Mapi’s eyes widened in shock. Both of their mouths were gapping like a pair of fish, neither knowing what to reply to the little girl.
“Did she just say?-”
“Sí. We can leave that with Alexia and y/n.” Mapi whispered next to Ingrid as she waved at the little girl that also reminded them of their teammate.
The three made their way out of the park, Ingrid spotting an ice cream van.
“Shall we get ice cream?”
“Yayy! Ice cream!” Mapi and Rudy shouted in sync.
They queued up in line in front of the ice cream van, Mapi’s and Ingrid hand protectively and lovingly wrapped in Rudy's own hands.
“What flavour would you like, chicken?” Ingrid already knew the answer but still wanted to ask. Just in case.
“Strawberry, please.”
“Chocolate for me please.” Mapi beamed as she looked over the menu. “And extra chocolate sauce.”
Once everyone put their orders in and everything was paid for, the three happily walked through the park, eating their ice creams. Ingrid only had to wipe chocolate off of Mapi’s cheek twice and Rudy once.
The 4 year old softly kicked her ball as she walked just a few steps in front of the couple.
“So, that was hot.” Mapi smirked.
“What was?” Ingrid raised an eyebrow in question.
“The way you told that awful woman off! My cute and sexy girlfriend being all protective. I loved it.” Mapi softly bumped her shoulder into Ingrid.
The raven haired girl chuckled, becoming a little shy.
“Do you think it’s the hormones?” Mapi asked as she looked back over at Rudy, completely unaware of the conversation.
“Yeah, I think so. I think even seeing Rudy getting bullied like that was awful. It made me so angry. And that bitch of a woman…” Ingrid paused to make sure Rudy hadn’t heard her. “...She made me so angry.”
Mapi nodded, taking Ingrid’s hand in hers and brought it to her lips, kissing her skin gently.
“She was awful. I’m glad you told her off. She looked like a deer in headlights.” Mapi laughed thinking of the memory.
“When do you want to tell Ale and y/n?”
Ingrid hummed in thought. “Maybe next month? I guess I’ll start to show soon.” Ingrid smiled as she touched her stomach.
“I can’t wait to tell them!” Mapi’s smile was from ear to ear.
“Me too. I also can’t wait to tell this little one. She’ll be so excited.”
The three did a lap round the park, even stopping to play some football. Just as they came to their exit Mapi noticed the bully boy to her right, stuffing his mouth with a cone ful of ice cream.
“Hey, Rudy, kick your ball over here.” Mapi pointed at her feet.
The girl was more than happy to do just that, unaware what was about to unfold.
The blonde gently kicked the ball at Mapis’ feet. The older woman looked at her target once more before launching the ball perfectly at the ice cream cone, causing the desert to fly right out of the boy's hand and into the muddy floor.
“Ops sorry!” Mapi faked an apology as she retrieved the ball, she couldn’t stop the smile on her face once she heard the boy start to cry loudly behind her.
She caught up with Ingrid and Rudy. The raven haired girl shook her head, trying her best to hide the smile on her face, but Mapi could see right through it. “Maria.” She chuckled.
“What? I couldn’t let you have all the fun.” The older woman laughed as she picked Rudy up and placed her on her shoulders.
Rudy squealed loudly as Mapi began to run.
“Faster, tieta Mapi! Faster!”
Ingrid shook her head, smiling as she watched the pair laughing together.
“You’re going to have the most crazy mama, but you’re going to be so loved.” She whispered as she stroked her stomach.
#woso#woso community#woso fanfics#woso x reader#fcb femení#ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader#ingrid engen#mapi leon#mapi and ingrid#alexia putellas x imagine#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#woso imagine
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
off the court
paige bueckers x azzi fudd
themes: angst, pining
word count: 2.7k
tw: swearing, LIGHT sexual content
a/n: happy thanksgiving for anyone who celebrates! i lowkey like this chapter a lot, but i apologize for it being so short. i’ll try to make next chapter longer 🤞 lemme know how u enjoy it!
CHAPTER FIVE
the following day, paige isn’t the one screwing up in practice. no, it’s azzi. azzi, the one who is consistent with her shots. azzi, the one who rarely misses despite any stress or distractions she’s feeling.
yet, ever since that stupid game of spin the bottle that ended up with paige kissing her, she’s been out of sync.
azzi furiously dribbles the basketball on the ground, pressing her lips in a firm line out of frustration. she goes for yet another 3 pointer; it bounces off the rim.
“fucking dammit,” she mutters to herself, annoyed with her shot missing.
caroline, one of her closest friends on the team, cautiously approaches the brunette.
“az, you good?” she asks wryly.
azzi looks over at her, “i’m fucking perfect, caroline.”
a flash of hurt travels in carol’s eyes at her friends harsh words.
regret hits azzi immediately, “i’m sorry, carol. i’ve just got a lot on my mind- i didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
caroline’s lips tug into a gentle smile, “no worries, girl. i knew something was up, anyway.”
“you just know me too well, don’t you?” azzi returns the grin.
“sure do,” caroline replies, “so, you gonna tell me or what?”
“not here,” azzi makes a rushed glance at the blonde who’s across the room, doing some of her own shooting drills with kk.
caroline follows her line of sight and nods in understanding, “i see,” she smirks, knowingly.
azzi is sprawled out on her bed, while caroline is sitting cross legged on the opposite one. both girls have showered and dressed into comfortable pajamas since practice ended hours ago.
“tell me tell me tell me,” caroline repeats, eagerly.
azzi playfully rolls her eyes, “it’s stupid.”
“i don’t care, az! just tell me already,” she exclaims.
azzi takes a moment to think about the someone who’s been stuck in her head. that someone with perfect fucking lips and a perfect fucking tongue who knows exactly how to use it. heat creeps up her neck, reaching her cheeks. she brings her legs to her chest and covers her face with both hands.
“she’s fucking with my head, carol,” azzi groans into her hands.
caroline lightly smiles at her friend, “who?”
azzi removes her hands from her face to give caroline a look, “you know who. paige, obviously!”
“and why is that?”
azzi shakes her head, thinking it’s the most idiotic thing in the world. “because.. ever since.. you know what..” she gives her friend another look, “she just won’t leave my mind. she’s always there. she always has been.”
“aww, that’s so cute,” caroline beams, “you should-“
“no, it’s not cute, caroline!” azzi shouts, throwing up her hands. “it’s frustrating! it’s making me mess up in practice, embarrassing myself in front of coach. and everyone, for that matter!”
carol throws the brunette a soft look, “babe, everyone misses shots. you’re not the only one, and you most definitely won’t be the last. remember, just last week paige herself was doing bad in practice. and now she’s doing better! so will you, az.”
azzi shrugs her shoulders, figuring caroline is probably right. she lays out in her bed, pulling the covers overtop her body.
caroline isn’t done with the conversation, though. “so.. do you love her?”
azzi is taken aback at the unexpected question, to say the least. “what the actual fuck?”
“what? it’s a serious question,” caroline begins, “i see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. it’s undeniable, if you ask me.”
“what way? what are you even talking about right now?”
carol tilts her head, throwing azzi an it’s obvious kind of glance, “um, like you want to rip one another’s clothes off and fuck each others brains out-“
“jesus, carol!” azzi shouts, shocked at her friend’s explicit language.
caroline chuckles at azzi’s reaction, “what! it’s true- you can ask any of the girls.”
right on queue, the dorm door opens and in walks the freshman, ashlynn.
“hey guys!” she waves at carol and azzi.
“perfect timing, ash,” caroline says, “i have a question for you.”
“carol, don’t,” azzi warns.
caroline squints her eyes at the curly haired brunette in challenge, “don’t you think there’s something going on between azzi and paige?”
ashlynn’s eyes widen at the question, “carol.. i thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that-“
“what?” azzi nearly screams.
ashlynn flinches back at her reaction, “az, don’t scare me like that!” she says, touching her hand to her heart.
“sorry, sorry,” azzi apologizes, “but what do you mean ‘not supposed to talk about that?’”
ash lowers herself on the bed with caroline, “well.. the entire team sort of knows there’s something up with the two of you. i mean, you guys look at each other all the time. and not in a friendly way.”
“that’s so not true!”
“yeah, it is, az. but anyway, we all agreed not bring it up, especially with either one of you. not until you figured it out.”
azzi gaped at the confession. everyone knew something was going on between them? azzi didn’t even know herself!
azzi eyes caroline, “carol, you knew? and never told me?”
caroline opens her mouth, then closes it. a moment passes with awkward silence between the three freshmen.
“az, look-“
“no! don’t even bother,” azzi throws herself off the bed, grabs her phone, and rushes out the door before neither ash or caroline could get another word out.
azzi is sitting in the basketball lounge room, phone in hand. she’s still buzzing with annoyance from the discussion with ashlynn and caroline an hour prior.
azzi’s head turns at the sound of the door creaking open. a familiar blonde steps inside, causing azzi’s heart to quicken. of course paige would come in here- of course.
paige immediately spots the brunette curled up on the couch looking her way. her breath hitches in her throat; memories of yesterday come flooding back in her mind- not that they ever left.
“h- hi,” paige stammers, then clears her throat.
“hey, p,” azzi sighs.
“just forgot my bag,” paige says, awkwardly moving to a nearby couch and grips her backpack.
azzi nods, unsure how to respond.
paige glances back at the brunette, who wears a sad expression on her face.
“are you okay?” paige questions her, genuinely concerned.
azzi gives paige a sad smile, “i’m good, thanks for asking.”
paige doesn’t move, though. she continues to stare at azzi, her eyes never wavering.
“what?” azzi asks softly at the blonde.
“you don’t look okay, az.”
azzi throws her legs out dramatically on the couch, along with her arms while defeat set in. “caroline’s pissing me off.”
paige lowers herself on a couch, opposite of the younger girl. “alright.. what’d she do to piss you off?”
azzi lets out a quiet sigh, “well..” she thinks back on her and carol’s conversation, unsure how to explain it to paige without giving too much away, “she didn’t tell me something i should’ve known about.”
paige arches a brow, “like what?”
azzi throws paige a look, “is that really your business?”
paige curls her lip in annoyance, “right, forget i asked,” she says before making an effort to get up.
azzi reaches her hand out as if to hold her back from leaving, “wait, don’t go, i’m sorry.”
paige’s heart skips a beat at azzi’s plea to make her stay, “okay.” this time, she sits down on the same couch azzi’s positioned on, inching closer to the brunette.
azzi’s cheeks instantly warm at their sudden close proximity. “it’s so fucking embarrassing missing everything in practice. it’s only my first year and i’m already screwing up.”
paige nods in understanding, “tell me about it,” she agrees. “did you see me last week? i couldn’t make a shot even if my life depended on it.”
azzi laughs at the memory of paige’s performance, “true.”
paige gives azzi a gentle shove, “hey! don’t agree with me!”
azzi’s laughter only grows, though. paige’s lips tug into a grin, yet she can’t help but still feel a little annoyed. when paige figures azzi’s laughter won’t calm anytime soon, she reaches out, placing her hand over the younger girl’s mouth.
“stop,” paige smiles, eyes solely on the azzi’s.
azzi’s chuckle soon ends; her eyes lock on paige’s while her blush becomes more visible. paige’s grin falls, but her hand remains.
azzi’s line of sight drops to paige’s pink lips- butterflies erupt in her stomach. she can’t help but think of yesterday; the feeling of paige’s lips against her own, her tongue swirling in her mouth. she wanted nothing more than to do it again.
paige eventually removes her hand from azzi’s mouth, eyes immediately flicking to her lips. the two are so close in distance they could hear each others erratic heart beats.
“paige,” azzi whispers, breathlessly.
paige shakes her head in attempt to forget whatever just happened between the two. “so, are you going back to your dorm anytime soon?”
“i’m not really sure, to be honest. i don’t wanna see carol right now,” she says.
paige nods, “well, if you want, you can come over mine again. i don’t mind.”
azzi’s head snaps to paige, “really?”
“i mean, yeah. there’s enough room, plus dorka’s hanging out with lou.”
azzi smiles at paige’s offer, genuinely grateful. “okay, then. lead the way.”
the two girls jump up off the couch, paige throws her backpack over her shoulders while azzi picks up her phone. they walk side by side, fingers brushing occasionally as they make their way to paige’s dorm.
the room is exactly how azzi left it- paige’s bed was unmade, empty water bottles were scattered on the night stand, clothes on the floor.
“sorry about the mess,” paige says, embarrassment flooding her features. she frantically begins picking up the dirty clothing pieces and shoving them in the nearby closet.
azzi chuckles at paige’s rush to clean the room, finding it cute. “paige, it’s really okay. i don’t mind at all.”
paige slowly stops what she’s doing, before turning to the curly headed brunette. a moment of comfortable silence hangs in the air.
azzi clears her throat, “i forgot to give you your shirt back.”
paige’s lips tip up, “no worries, you can keep it for all i care.”
butterflies flutter in paige’s stomach at the thought of azzi wearing her shirt. she can’t help but like it.
azzi’s matches the grin, “thanks. it’s so comfortable, by the way.”
“glad you like it, az,” paige laughs as she lowers herself onto her bed.
azzi continues to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure where to go from there.
“do you possibly have an extra toothbrush i could use? it’s okay if not, i can go-“
paige jumps up, “yeah! yeah, of course i do,” she walks into the small bathroom, opens the drawer underneath the sink and pulls out an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste. she hands it off to azzi.
“thank you, p,” azzi shows her a genuine smile.
paige nervously looks away from the younger girl, “mhm.”
minutes later, azzi comes out of the bathroom with her teeth freshly cleaned. paige is already laying in her bed, underneath the covers.
azzi looks over at the blonde, wondering if she should go over there or to dorka’s bed. but they did sleep together twice already? would it be weird to assume she’d sleep in the same bed again?
as azzi decides on dorka’s empty bed, paige speaks out. “just get over here, for goodness sake.”
azzi tries to hide her growing smile as she climbs into bed, right alongside paige. she finally settles in and gets comfortable before reaching over to turn off the lamp.
azzi doesn’t process what she’s doing until after she’s done it. she leans over and touches her lips to paige’s cheek, staying there a moment too long.
“goodnight,” azzi breaths.
paige’s eyes widen- she can practically feel her body temperature rise. she decides it’s only right to return the favor. therefore, she places her hand gentle on the back of azzi’s head for support and plops a long kiss on azzi’s cheek. before following it up with another quick one for good measure.
“goodnight.”
azzi has been tossing and turning all night long. no matter how much she repositions herself, she can’t seem to fall asleep.
her and paige remained basically binded together the entire night, regardless of azzi’s constant moving. paige rests on her back, while azzi adjusts herself once again to have her back against the blonde.
paige stirs next to her, the shift in the bed enough to pull her out of sleep. she blinks, adjusting her eyes to the dark, and notices azzi squirming from beside her.
with a soft exhale, paige leans on her elbows, and gently brushes curls behind azzi’s ear to get a better view of her face.
“you okay?” paige whispers, hand remaining on the younger girl’s cheek, lightly rubbing her thumb on her cheekbone.
a shiver runs through azzi at paige’s unexpected tenderness. she blinks up at paige, eyes locked on her beautiful blue ones.
“can’t sleep,” azzi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
paige’s lingering hand continues to graze azzi’s cheek, “i can tell.” her eyes roam azzi’s face she’s grown to adore, before settling firmly on her full lips.
azzi brings her hand, this time, up to the back of paige’s head, fingers running through the blonde locks.
the silence between the two girls was full of tension and longing, yet neither made any effort to close their distant. not that they didn’t want to- both intensely did.
heat and desire flashed in paige’s eyes, wanting to give in so badly. she knew better, though. she knew it would ruin everything-
azzi pulls paige’s head down into a passionate kiss before she had time to react. it was different from last time- this kiss was more urgent, more forceful, and more importantly, on their own terms.
paige deepens the kiss, her hand moving to azzi’s curls, and slightly tugging. a small moan leaves her mouth, vibrating on the brunettes lips.
paige peppers kisses down azzi’s cheek, all along her neck, sucking gently, enough to leave marks for the morning.
“fuck, paige,” azzi groans.
the blonde only hums against her skin, causing azzi to pull paige’s head back up to hers and connect their lips once more.
it’s frantic, it’s tender, it’s hungry- it’s everything all at once. azzi never wants this moment to end, because she’s afraid it’ll never happen again.
paige’s hand slowly lowers beneath the covers, crawling down azzi’s chest and eventually settling on her hip.
“jesus, az,” paige whispers, breathlessly against her lips, “you feel so good.”
azzi groans, her tongue swirling in the older girls mouth, clashing with paige’s.
paige’s grip on azzi’s hip loosens; it inches farther and farther until it reaches her waistband.
azzi gasps at paige’s hand placement, causing paige to disconnect their lips and look into azzi’s eyes.
“can i?” paige asks, quietly.
azzi simply nods once, uncontrollably pulling paige into another searing kiss as her fingers disappear in her pants.
the brightness of the peaking sun through the curtains was enough to wake azzi. she rubs her eyes, adjusting to the light. her body was firmly against paige’s front, while her arm was loosely wrapped around her. she could feel paige’s soft breathing on the back of her neck.
she soon realizes she has no pants on- no underwear, either. when she begins to move, paige stirs, her eyelids fluttering open.
“god, you’re such a light sleeper,” azzi notes, giggling to herself.
paige yawns, still dazed from her long rest. she leans up onto her elbows and looks over at the brunette, who’s also staring at her. awkward silence hangs between the girls.
“so.. i should probably head back to my room,” azzi says, lifting herself off paige’s bed.
paige watches the freshmen, nervously fiddling with her fingers from the memories of the earlier morning.
“yeah, okay,” paige agrees.
azzi tugs her shirt down in attempt to cover herself up, even though paige had already seen it all. she quickly finds her clothes scattered on the floor and slides them back on, paige’s eyes on her never wavering.
as azzi walks to the door, she swiftly turns around, facing the blonde.
“let’s just forget this happened, okay?” azzi says, barely able to look paige in the eye.
a flash of hurt hits paige which she instantly covers with a nod.
“i agree,” paige responds.
“alright, good,” azzi nods, pleased with paige’s agreement. she doesn’t glance back at paige when she exits the room, leaving it completely silent.
paige was lying, though. she won’t ever forget.
#azzi fudd#paige bueckers#pazzi#uconn wbb#nika muhl#paige x azzi#uconn huskies#basketball#fanfic#paige buckets#pazzi fics#fan fiction#uconn women’s basketball
161 notes
·
View notes
Text
Winter Comfort (🌶️)
Wolf!Natasha x Reader
The weather predictions weren’t looking good for the entire upper east coast. The forecast was a winter blizzard would be making its way through and the Westview sanctuary was right in the blizzard’s path.
You and Natasha worked hard to fortify the sanctuary and your apartment from the coming storm.
“We should all stay at my apartment, Natasha” you told your girlfriend only for Yelena to interrupt.
“What about my cave? It’s roomy, open aired and I literally just answered my own question” Natasha huffs, “fine. But I want cuddles and a James Bond film”
“Deal” you answer with a smile.
“You two lovebirds can stay at your apartment,” the blond wolf chimed, “I am going to wait out the storm with Kate Bishop”
“I feel terrible for Kate” Natasha smirked. “Putting up with you? Oof”
Yelena rolled her eyes and jumped into her jeep, driving off to meet up with her best friend.
You and your wolf girlfriend got the hybrids all comfortable and the place well heated. The back up generator was good to go.
And with that, the sanctuary was fortified and ready for the storm. You and Natasha went back to your apartment.
You and Natasha cooked dinner, danced to a few favorite songs and then found yourselves curled up on your couch watching a classic James Bond movie.
“You always known how to treat me” Natasha giggles as she lays in your arms. She begins grinding her hips against yours. It was slow and steady, if it wasn’t for proximity, you wouldn’t have noticed. But you did.
“Are you w-warm enough, baby?” You tried to form a proper sentence but her little repeating action was putting your mind on the Fritz.
“I’m still a little cold” she purrs against your chest, “maybe you can warm me up”
She just keeps nuzzling you, breathing in your scent, rubbing her arms all over your chest, her legs sliding against yours. Her tail gently teasing your thighs.
“Natasha” you tried to say thru a mixture of giggles and a growing blush.
“Hmm? What is it, malysh?” She asked, batting her eyes playfully at you. Her eyes however held a certain amount of mischief.
“Y-You know what you’re doing to me”
She nuzzles you, her tail now swaying at you seductively. “Do I? Or are you reading between the lines?”
You rub her lower back reassuringly, placing little kisses to her lips, “Is this what you want?”
She kisses you right back, purring in your ear, “i want you. plain and simple, malysh”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” your wolf hybrid girl giggles before kissing you again.
“What about the movie?”
She runs her hands under your shirt, “I’ve seen the Spy Who Loved Me a hundred times already”
And with that you pick her up and carry her to your bedroom. She wraps her legs around your waist, holding onto you and giggling. Her reddish tail swishing side to side happily.
You lay her down gently on your bed, kissing her neck, caressing her so tenderly.
“I can’t believe it” you whisper against her ear.
“Me neither.” Natasha giggles, “our first time and we’re doing it in the middle of a snowstorm”
“There’s that,” you shrug, “but I just can’t believe how lucky I am to be love with my best friend”
Natasha gazes into your eyes with pure love and adoration, her voice comes out a little pleading but also a little giddy too, “just take me already you romantic goof!”
You help her out of her thermals as she tries to claw you out of yours. The two of you kiss and tumble over your bed, lost in the all consuming, all encompassing feelings of love.
Despite her earlier energy levels, your first time was gentle and loving. Natasha didn’t want to take her eyes off you while you just were in awe of the way her eyes showed every bit of love and joy. You wanted this time to be about her, while she wanted it to be about you.
Her claws gently scratched down your back as the euphoric bliss washed over her. Her breathing became a series of desperate little panting sounds, “(Y/N)! My love!…” after that her voice became a series of loving, joyful phrases whispered in the Russian language. You knew a few words so you knew she was experiencing an immense amount of pleasure and joy, she was practically a mess in your arms.
Her little moans, the way she giggles and gasps. All of it just made you fall more and more in love with her. Her pleads, her panting voice, it all made you want to strive to make her feel it more and more. She was your ecstasy, your love, your wolf girl.
“Natasha,” the way you said in her name made her bite her lip happily. She wanted to hear you say it more often.
The two of you collapsed against one another a happy mess, sharing a gentle, loving laugh with each other. Natasha’s reddish curls covered her face and a bit of yours. Your honey wolf wrapped her entire body around you like a contented sloth on a branch. Her tail swished happy and content under the covers of your bed.
“Hmm…by the gods I love you” she said with a little content sigh on her lips.
“I love you” you whispered back, just wanting nothing more to do than hold her in your arms for all eternity.
“Sounds like the storm is starting to clear up” Natasha commented.
“I’m still a little cold” you joked, earning a giggle from your wolf paramour.
“We got time”
You kiss her tenderly, “all the time in the world, my love”
Her tail wagged happily in response. How did you go this long without her in your arms before?
Yes the weather outside was frightful but laying there in the comfort of your bed with your loving redheaded wolf girl was so delightful.
Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @redhoodte @scarletquake-n7 @iiconicsfan25 @jacenradio7 @julieromanoff @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @ab1nsur @iamnicodemus @moonlit-imagines @moonlit-ficrecs @multi-fandom-enjoyer @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23
#marvel#marvel fluff#marvel imagine#mcu#mcu imagine#mcu fandom#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#black widow x reader#black widow#wolf hybrid#wolf natasha#werewolves#scarlett johansson
130 notes
·
View notes
Text
Meet the Family 6
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)
Characters: Lloyd Hansen
Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate.
You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine.
“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out.
“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?”
“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says.
“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters.
“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?”
“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.”
“Mom, I--”
“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?”
“Well, dad--”
“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question.
“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--”
“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests.
“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--”
You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares.
“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.”
“Which one?” Lloyd snickers.
“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts.
He cackles and William sighs.
“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.”
“You still do that?” Lloyd asks.
“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?”
“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe.
Another surprise, William laughs.
“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests.
“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug.
“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.”
You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you.
“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath.
He shakes his head. “Touch football...”
“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow.
“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks.
“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.”
“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back.
“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.”
Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine.
You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.”
Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you.
You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says.
You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned.
“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort.
You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean.
“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.”
“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark.
“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.”
You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside.
“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns.
“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.”
It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game.
There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who.
Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother.
The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck.
“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you.
You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies.
“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers.
You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.”
“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.”
“You’re nasty.”
“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.”
You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--”
You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday.
William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table.
Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic.
The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point.
Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists.
“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside.
The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking.
Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man.
A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head.
“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man.
“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow.
The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them.
“You two,” William booms.
“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over.
“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--”
“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.”
“My son has a job,” William snarls back.
“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs.
“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back.
“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.”
“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--”
“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.”
You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off.
“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.”
He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door.
Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself.
You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable.
He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.”
“Hard hit,” you say.
“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?”
“What?” You grimace. “No way.”
“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out.
“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.”
“Really? You wanna talk about that?”
“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.”
“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.”
He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you.
“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.”
“I am.”
“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues.
“It’s not what I agreed too.”
“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.”
You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.”
“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.”
“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist.
“Not good enough. We both know it.”
“I want more money,” you grit.
He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.”
You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek.
“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.”
“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--”
“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.”
You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.”
“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.”
He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips.
“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#series#fic#meet the family#dark fic#dark!fic#the gray man
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Giving thanks for..
Genre: smut, enemies to lovers.
Word count:2.8k+
Warnings: rough!ni-ki, shy!y/n, fingering “under the table”, worshipping, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, praising, throat-fucking, hate-fuck. Note: I love making these stories idk why but they peak my interest so much!! I know it’s not thanksgiving yet but imma be busy on those days I’m off, but plz enjoy :3 and take care of urself 💕🙏🏼
You’ve been enemies for a really long time. Ni-ki, which you couldn't stand him, had been teasing and humiliating you throughout school. But then, out of the blue, he invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, there would be the usual “I‘m grateful for…” moments, so you figured nothing too surprising would unfold, right?
Today you were just chilling at home alone while your parents were at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving dinner, you felt bored, alone. Of course you didn’t want to go because you didn’t feel like it. But once you finished an hour call with them, you stared up at the ceiling from the bed.
You sigh in boredom, sitting back up from the bed. “What am I gonna do, I’m all alone.. I guess I can make dinner for myself and watch some Netflix or something.” Suddenly you receive a notification from your phone, you assume “oh! Maybe my parents sent a picture of themselves!” You check but your excited expression turns into shock and confusion.. it says: “Hey y/n, sorry to annoy you as always lol 😂, but anyways I was wondering if you’re interested in coming over to my house for thanksgiving I have no one to enjoy besides my parents.”
“What?! Ni-ki.. he seriously invited you to his thanksgiving dinner, seriously?” You tell yourself blankly staring at the message for minutes. You roll your eyes and reply:
“Fine. 😒Only because I also have nothing to do, fine I’ll come over. What time?”
He types back: “Around 6PM, it will just be a normal thanksgiving, nothing out of the ordinary. 😊”
…
It’s 6PM and you’ve just arrived in front of his home, and you ring the doorbell. You stand there waiting for him or someone to open. You know you look stunning in that red dress, which perfectly highlights your curves without being overly short. Then Niki opens the door, “Hey y/n, come on in, I’ll introduce you to my parents.” As he gestured you to walk in. “Thank you.” You say, as he shuts the front door leading you to the dining table. You see a neatly organized dinning table, with a candle in the middle.
Ni-ki clears this throat and speaks, “Mom, dad. This is y/n, a “friend” of mine I invited, I hope you guys don’t mind her.” His mom replies, “N-no we don’t mind! Hello, y/n. Please I don’t mind you inviting her over, please sit down and join us for dinner today.” You look at his mother and smile politely, as you take your seat. “Hello, Mrs. It’s nice to meet you, it’s kind enough of your son to invite me over, since my parents are at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving.” His father speaks behalf, “Oh no worries! That’s very nice of our son to do that, inviting someone like you over, you seem a very well polite girl so there’s no harm in that.” Ni-ki then sits down next to you, “Yeah, I felt like that’s a nice thing to do behalf that it’s thanksgiving, we should be kind to each other, right y/n?” As he says that sarcastically.
You feel a bit nervous about meeting his parents, but you manage to smile and nod. “Of course, it's a good thing to invite friends over." You say softly, trying not to show how anxious you really feel. To pass the time waiting for the dinner his parents and especially you talk about how you’ve been, your parents, mostly about your life. But then his father asks, “Do you have a boyfriend yet, young lady?”
You blush slightly, feeling a little embarrassed by the question. "Well, I haven't found anyone who really catches my interest yet," you admit shyly.
"Maybe one day soon though!" You add quickly, hoping to change the subject before things get too awkward.
But it gets interrupted as soon as the food arrives. You smell all of the delicious aromas wafting from the dishes. "Wow... everything looks amazing!" You exclaim enthusiastically, trying to cover up your earlier blunder. “Who’s cutting the turkey today?”
Niki looks around, his parents and you seem to be waiting for someone to cut into the turkey. He takes a deep breath and stands up. "I'll do it," he announces confidently. "After all, it's Thanksgiving.” With that said, he walks over to where the turkey is sitting and grabs a knife. He gives it one swift stroke, carving off a piece of meat before placing it onto a plate. You can’t help but deny the way he looks in that suit, the way he picks up that knife, it’s like you wanna touch him.
But you then take a bite of some turkey and gravy - it's even better than it smells! As you all savor the meal throughout the evening, saying what you’re grateful for, besides Niki.. and of course, remembering to keep dinner etiquette in mind, everything was smooth. But soon enough you feel ni-ki leaning against you, his hot breath in your ear. “You look damn good in this dress.. I can’t help but notice it so much.” You blush deeply at his compliment, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not used to receiving compliments like this, especially not from someone as attractive as him. “T-thanks.. I mean I have to look presentable to your parents..” After you finish your food, you place your fork down gently and lean back in your chair. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Was the food good, sweetie? I made it this morning.” His mother smiles softly at you.
Before you could respond, you feel a hand sliding up and down your thigh making you gasp quietly. “What the..” you mutter to yourself, as Ni-ki continues doing that under the table. You try to play it cool despite losing focus on the conversation.
"O-oh, your food was amazing!", you respond sincerely, doing your best to ignore Ni-ki’s wandering hand. "I've never had such delicious mashed potatoes before..." He then leans over you and whispers with a small smirk, “I didn’t invite you just for a normal thanksgiving, I also wanted something else.. to tease and make you feel humiliated in front of my parents.” But then, Ni-ki’s mother speaks trying to get your attention, “Sweetie? You okay..? I was asking you where do you plan to go for vacation next month with your parents?” Ni-ki then slides your panties aside and inserts 2 fingers inside you without warning.
“O-oh! I was thinking maybe Thailand-ah!” You say making you blush in embarrassment, “Sorry about that.. it’s just something accidentally hit me. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, doing your best to keep a neutral expression.
“Thailand sounds lovely! It’s a wonderful place to travel.. when I was young..” she continues talking while you continue trying to hold your moans infront of them two. “Ni-ki.. stop that.. it’s embarrassing..” you whisper to him. “Come on~ your pussy deserves my fingers in you now, you make me crave you so much in that dress.” He says in a low, sultry voice.
His mother notices the blush on your face and the discomfort in your voice, but assumes it's due to the heat of the room or perhaps nervousness from being in new surroundings.
"Oh dear, I apologize if we're making you uncomfortable. We just love sharing stories about our travels!", she says reassuringly.
“N-no Mrs.. it’s not your fault it’s just it’s a bit hot right now.”, as you manage to choke out between stifled moans. Ni-Ki’s father then speaks, “We’ll clean up the mess, why don’t you show her your room.”
Ni-Ki inserts a third finger, making you moan quietly. “Yes of course father, I’ll kindly show her my room.” And with that both of his parents head to the kitchen with the dirty plates, and utensils. You finally pull his hand away from your pussy, “What was that for Ni-ki!? You can’t just do that while I’m talking to them.. that’s embarrassing. I nearly came all over your hand.” He winks, “Oh really? because I really wanted that pussy of yours.. I couldn’t resist.” “Now come on, let’s head to my room, shall we~?” He takes your hand to make you stand up so you can follow Ni-ki upstairs to his room. Once the door is closed behind you, he pins you against it.
"You know," he murmurs seductively, "Your little moans were music to my ears..." Before you can respond, he silences you with a passionate kiss. His tongue explores your mouth while his hands roam freely over your body. “I should worship your pussy.. eating you out, making you moan..~”
You quickly responded blushing deep red. “N-no that’s a bad idea.. especially right now..” Hearing your protests, Ni-ki pulls away with a playful grin. "What's the fun in all this if we don't take risks?" He teases, pressing himself closer against you. “No im going home, I’m not doing your kinky ideas with you.” Ni-ki seeing you attempt to leave, grabs your wrist tightly. "Running away so soon?" He chuckles darkly, pulling you back towards him. Without warning, he kisses you passionately once more. His other hand reaches down to cup your breast roughly through the fabric of your dress.
“Mmph! F-fine I want it! But this is a one-time thing, we are still enemies.” You stumble to say, as he releases your wrist and moves to unzip your dress hastily. "Just remember..." he whispers into your ear, "This doesn't change anything between us..." And with that, he pushes you onto his bed and begins undressing you fully, and he kneels in front of you. “Let me worship your pussy.. I can tell it’s already wet from my fingers, naughty girl..”
"F-fine! Go ahead," you finally relent, biting your lip nervously. “But only this once." His tongue laps at your clit with expert precision, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body.
"Mmm...so tasty..." he murmurs against you before continuing his relentless assault on your sensitive nub. “Ah~! Fuck.. k-keep going..” you moan but you quickly cover your mouth making sure no one hears you. Ni-ki increases the pressure of his tongue on your clit. His hands grip your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devours you and makes your legs tremble, "Oh God...I'm close!", you gasp out, writhing beneath him. Noticing your impending climax, Ni-ki slows his pace slightly, prolonging your torture. He looks up at you with a devilish grin.
"Not so fast, sweetheart..." he purrs, "I haven't finished yet." You whine desperately, “N-no please I’m close! I need to cum..”
"Oh, is that so?" he teases, trailing his tongue along your inner thigh. "That's the point isn't it?" he teases again, "To feel pleasure so intense that you can barely stand it?" “N-Niki!" you cry out, clenching the sheets beneath. "Please...don't tease me like this! I really need to cum.. come on.” Niki chuckles darkly, his eyes filled with mischief as he watches you squirm underneath him. He knew how to push your buttons, knew exactly what to say and do to get a rise out of you. “What's wrong, sweetness?" he purrs mockingly, "Can't handle a little teasing?" You whine again and looks at him with pleading eyes, “No! I mean yes! Just shut up and let me cum! You asshole! Please.. I need to cum so badly..!”
Niki laughs, his hot breath tickling your skin as he leans in closer.
He takes a moment to savor the desperation lacing your words. "Fine," he concedes, sliding a finger inside of you. "But only because I want to see those pretty eyes roll back into your head." “Yes please..! I’m gonna.. fuck! Gonna..”, You quickly grab a pillow to cover your moans as you cum onto his face. Niki licks up every last drop of your sweet release, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He pulls back slowly, standing up to look down at you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, I might just fuck you right now while we at it, how about you ride me?”
"No way I’m not riding you! You’re an asshole!” As you stand up from his bed. “Plus your parents are washing dishes, we can’t just do that..they might hear us!” He smirks pushing you back onto the bed, “Oh come on.. we could make some noise, who cares about them..” He tries to persuade you. “You might like it when you’re handcuffed, I have them.”
You roll your eyes and scoff at him, “Ugh.. whatever I’ll ride you while I’m handcuffed…” “Really?” Niki asks surprised, “Well alright then.” He goes to his drawer and takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.” “Alright.”, you say as you hold out your wrists for him to cuff you. Once he locks them, he smirks, “Fuck, you look sexy like this, handcuffed.. I can easily do anything to you.” He reaches down and unzips his pants, freeing his thick member. It throbs slightly as it bobs free from its confines. "Here," he says, offering you his shaft. "Why don't you start by sucking on this?"
“Alright, I’ll please you..” You say as you lean down taking his cock in your mouth. You bob your head slowly licking his tip before sliding down further, taking half of his dick in your mouth. Without warning, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him. “Mmph!~Too big and deep.!” You manage to say while he doesn't stop though; instead, he continues to fuck your face ruthlessly.
You tease him back by saying, “I’ll pull my mouth out-” “No you won’t,” he says. “Or else I will kick you outta of my house and make sure you never return.” Then he forces his way inside your mouth again, his member hitting the back of your throat, forcing another round of gags from you. As he keeps fucking your throat, you slap his leg hard, trying to signal him to stop. Ignoring your weak attempt to resist, Niki continues to thrust into your mouth. He can feel the familiar tingling at the base of his spine, signaling his imminent release.
"That's it..." he groans, "I'm gonna cum..."
Before long, he explodes inside your mouth. His hot seed fills your mouth and spills onto your chin as he rides out his orgasm. "There..." he pants, "That wasn't so bad was it? Now why don't you get those pretty legs of yours moving and ride me like a good girl." “O-okay..” You stutter out as you position yourself to sit on his cock despite being handcuffed. With a single thrust, he buries himself deep within you.
"Fuck..." he groans, "So tight..." As he begins to move beneath you, bucking his hips upwards to meet each of your downward thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as they make love roughy. "Ride me baby," he growls, "Show me how much of an asshole you think I am." “Fuck.. you..! Ah~!” , you moan out quietly. “J-just don’t thrust up more..” “Oh, is that what you want?" He teases, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep things gentle for you." Despite his promise, he continues to thrust up into you ruthlessly. His large member filling you over and over again until both of you are panting heavily. "You like that?" he growls quietly, "You like being fucked by an asshole like me?"
“I hate you so much! Ahh~” you continue to moan out as you start to ride him faster, grinding your clit against him as you ride him. Niki groans deeply as you grind against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He can feel the heat building up within him again.
"Fucking hell..." he mutters, "You're such a naughty girl..." With one final thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you. His hot seed spurts inside of you as he releases inside of you. “Fuck.. I’m cumming too..!” Niki grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your own climax rippling through your body. He can feel every spasm and twitch of your pussy as you cum. "Good girl," he murmurs, "That was quite the show." As he uncuff and removes the handcuffs from your wrists, “There.. am I still an asshole to you, y/n? Despite panting you responded, “n-no.. you were good, I give you that. I guess we aren’t really enemies anymore.”
Suddenly you both hear a knock, his father was yelling from the door while Ni-ki’s mother was standing next to him, “Ni-ki, y/n, Are you okay? I hear some noise and wanted to make sure you guys were okay!”
Niki sighs as he hears his parent's voices, realizing that they've been too loud. He quickly pulls up his pants and straightens out his shirt. "Yeah dad, we're fine," he calls out, "Just having a little fun." He looks at you with a smirk, "Guess we better clean up real quick."
You smirk and laugh at him, “I told you this could’ve happened.” He laughs softly, "Yeah, you did." Niki gives you a playful wink, "Maybe next time we should try to be quieter especially you, y/n." As he listens to his parent's footsteps fade away, he relaxes again. Turning back to you, he grins mischievously. “One last thing.., I’m grateful today for eating your pussy, y/n.”
#Writercookies🎀#enhypen#ni ki#enhypen niki#niki enha#nishimura riki#niki x reader#niki x y/n#enha fanfic#enha smut
90 notes
·
View notes
Note
Yes I know I’m literally talking to you via our DMs about this, but what do you think Konig’s first first impressions of Maid Reader is? Does he fully register the new personnel at the manor, or is it more of a “yes new people to be a good employer too”
Hello my little secret agent, thank you for sending in an ask. This is how I imagine their first interaction to go.
Konig can feel a headache brewing, his grip tight on his pen while he massages at his temple with his free hand. It's barely past noon, and already he has had more social interaction than he cares for. If it weren't for these damn papers, he would be free from this stuffy office to roam the chilly woods. He glares with disdain at his filing shelves, the only piece of furniture not built with him in mind, the muscles in his back between his shoulders protesting at the thought of being hunched inwards, squinting at the documents while bent lest he smack the back of his skull into the hanging cabinets again. He glances down at his feet, a sturdy bag resting under his desk. Inside are rations packed by the cooks, a bedroll, some matches and a flint, a canteen, and the various hunting gear he requires. Enough to last him several days, free from the burdens and expectations of the nobility and their incessant need to gossip. A gentle rap on his door forces his gaze from the bag, a grunt signaling for his footman, Felix to come in. When he sees him enter with a shaky young woman whose face he did not recognize he represses the urge to groan, headache kicking in fully. It doesn't help that Felix has an amused expression on his face, mustache hiding his smug grin at escorting her into his presence. Once again, those pesky rumors plague him. He had recently had several of his staff retire, having been with him for over a decade, following him from his homeland to this new place. Close companions over those years, an understanding between them regarding how he would like the estate run and the boundaries concerning privacy. Yet they were already into their years when they followed him, and he could not bear to keep them here when they desired to return to their true home and be with family.
Word spread of his estate needing workers to step in, and it's true he did need new individuals to help, but not the way the rumors had exaggerated; mostly it was errand runners and cooks that he needed, with space for maybe a single maid or two to step in. For all that he was a large man, he wasn't fond of mess and clutter, and beyond the habitual cleaning the estate didn't require much upkeep. Yet in came what seemed to be half of the workforce's maids, each claiming to want to work for him yet looking at him as though he were going to force them to sign their names in a black book. He has no desire to keep staff that are terrified of him, and even less desire to feel uncomfortable in his own house. He looks towards this hopeful woman and pauses, taking her in. He is used to people being frightened by him, but this is something else. Her body is thinner than he suspects it should be, like a tree choked by mistletoe, something leeching the life from her bones. Skin pallid as though she's fighting off something and being left empty as a result. Eyes that are focused yet tired, not yet able to rest...
"Name?" He asks, watching her jump slightly before she responds. "Business?" He keeps his questions short; if she has a problem with it she says nothing, which is good. He hates having to try and string together long sentences around people who do not know his native tongue. "I'm a maid, sir" Ah, he was right. This should be over quickly then. "Employer?" "Duke-Duke MacTavish, sir." He watches her bite her lip, strained smile falling while rubbing her fingertips on her skirt. Ah, MacTavish. His lips purse under his shroud. He'd had the...pleasure of seeing the man for the first time at a gala the previous summer. The man had been quite boisterous, making his rounds to chat with most everyone before settling amongst his friends. Throughout the night Konig had watched everyone, and found himself tired of Duke MacTavish's need to fawn and fool with the ladies that evening, both courtly and common alike. He glances back at the maid in the chair in front of him, observing how she fidgets, before the idea comes to him.
She bears resemblance to a deer. Like a doe, stark against the white snow, eyes taking in everything as though readying for an escape at any moment. A prey animal spooked from its den by something, running from a greater threat than he. Something close to home perhaps, that left her under duress in such a way that she could not help but show signs of wearing down. An endurance predator, running her into the ground, a feeling he has caused hunting both man and beast. The concealed look of panic in her eyes is not something he caused, given the startling way she looks him in the eye as she waits for his next question, and he finds himself less put-upon than before. "Skills?" It does no good to take in someone if they cannot earn their keep. "Sweeping, dusting, washing of both laundry and dishes, polishing, folding, and mending to name a few" Good. Very good. He stands, letting out a sigh as he feels his back pop slightly. He makes his way around the desk, extending a hand to her to help her up. She takes it gently, not with hesitation but with care to be soft with him. It's enough to make his lips quirk a little, someone so small and fragile compared to him worrying about causing him harm. She keeps her head down as he gently ushers her out of the office and towards the front door, steps slow and shoulders drawn inwards. Once she reaches the door though, he speaks. "Next Monday" "Sir?" She asks, staring up at him, brows pinched in confusion. "Start next Monday. Come at 9. Bring all things, Annika will show you everything." He watches as she realizes that she will in fact be employed, escaping whatever he's sure haunts her at the duchy. The relieved smile she gives him makes something in his chest twitch, her face lighting up and shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you, my Lord! I will be sure to be on time!" She gives him a curtsy which he inclines his head at, and then she's off down the cobblestone path towards a waiting carriage. Once the door shuts, he groans and rolls his neck, hearing several of the bones pop. He marches back into the office and hooks the bag with his fingers, long strides taking him towards the mudroom and the sprawling expanse of woods beyond. The papers can wait, he's earned some time to himself.
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
at your most authentic | percy jackson
ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: insecurities, hurt/comfort! ღ wc: 1.120 love u all don't hate me <3 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7 - pt 8
Sleep crept closer, her mind drifting as the images it painted blurred with Percy’s face. He kept talking, but she wasn’t really listening. He didn’t seem to notice, very absorbed in showing off his new watch, he continued without pause.
His voice faded, dissolving into the background, and her senses seemed to abandon her. The only thing she was still aware of was the feeling of her own hand supporting her cheek as she unknowingly leaned into it, eyes closing slowly.
Unbeknownst to her, Percy had been smiling at her for several moments, watching her every movement with affection. When a soft snore escaped her lips, the watch was forgotten, discarded on the bed. He lingered, his hand almost reaching out to adjust her, wanting her to rest more comfortably and sleep peacefully until morning.
Yet his fingers moved instinctively to her chin, tenderly caressing it -hoping to wake her in the gentlest way he could. She stirred, grumbling, her head tilting down until the boy’s hand found its place on her forehead. Percy’s thumb brushed against a freckle he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been so close.
“Sleepy there, huh?” he asked softly. Lacking strength, she murmured a weak response. He smiled and swept her hair back from her forehead. “Want to sleep for a while?”
Her head dropped back onto his shoulder, but she shook it gently. “Mhm, I’ll stay up.”
“Yeah, sure. You're about to drift off on me. I’m fine with it, but maybe you could sleep on me...” he gestured toward the bed, “over there.”
She kept shaking her head, pushing herself with her hands on his shoulders until she was sitting up straight again. Her eyes were barely open, and he could see the telltale signs of exhaustion –her red cheeks, the weariness settling in her body, shrinking her down like a tired child.
But still, she wouldn’t sleep.
And he knew something wasn’t right.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was thick with worry, but she didn’t answer, her eyes focused on nothing. “Would you prefer your cabin? I know it’s usually cooler here-”
“Keep telling me about your watch.” She muttered, her voice sounded painfully tired.
“What? No, forget about it, you-”
“What's it made of?” She kept pretending not to hear any question, her head already dipping again.
“Okay, stop.” He was frustrated, his voice shaking. Once again, his hands went to her face (something he clearly liked doing) with a little more urgency. “Why don't you want to sleep? Is it because I didn’t wake you for dinner yesterday? I promise I’ll do it today.”
She chuckled faintly, but that laugh wasn’t genuine. She was masking something, he could tell. She knew she could talk to him about anything –he was the one person who didn’t judge–, but listening to her talk about her tiredness must have become exhausting for him.
He’d said it over and over: ‘I don't care,’ ‘I love you, sleepyhead and all,’ ‘I'd rather be by your side while you sleep than watch you suffer from staying awake.’
And yet, a small part of her refused to accept it. Loving someone like her just didn’t seem possible.
He studied her carefully, as if he could solve the mystery just by looking. It appeared to work, because when her lips briefly puckered into a pout and she blinked firmly, something stirred in his memory.
He replayed the remarks of the other campers, every hurtful joke about her, and all the doubts she struggled with. That time she was so terrified to meet his mother that she was on the verge of a panic attack resurfaced in his thoughts, fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle.
This was the last piece.
“Hey, dreamy.” Once more, his hands found its way to her neck, holding her head firmly to ensure she met his gaze.
He wouldn’t ask if she was fine; he knew she wasn’t. He wouldn’t ask what was bothering her; he already knew. At that moment, not much felt right.
“Something you wanna tell me?”
She was tempted to say nothing, but eventually spoke. “It annoys me that all I ever want to do is sleep. Like, it must be boring being with me.” A weak, tearful laugh escaped her as she heard herself, and she wiped her eyes quickly. “God, that sounds so ridiculous.”
“Yes, it does.” His voice was quiet as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.
A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. She feared he might have grown tired of her. Maybe he was just saying things to be kind.
But he kissed her forehead gently, a soft reassurance. “I don't see why that would bother you, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Percy-”
“I never planned on telling you this because it might sound... creepy.” He softly caressed her temples and she let out a small, honest laugh in return. “But ever since the first time you trusted me and fell asleep on my shoulder, observing you sleep has become my favorite pastime. Because as much as I enjoy hearing you talk, seeing your smile, and hearing your laughter…”
He leaned in close, their noses touching. One shift and their lips would meet, but he held back.
“I love even more seeing you at your most authentic. And I know it bothers you, I hear you; I just want you to know that it’s okay to take things at your own pace and listen to your body. It doesn’t mean you’re boring or lazy; it means you’re human –not fully, but you get it.”
She laughed softly, a sound that felt more like a sigh than anything else, and before she could think, she pulled him into a tight embrace. He held her back, his arms wrapping around her with a tenderness that was saved exclusively for her.
It was his way of showing her that he was there.
And she did; she knew he was there, to remind her she wasn’t alone and that she didn’t have to face things on her own. She knew things wouldn’t change –she would still struggle with how others saw her, with the weight of their opinions and her own–, and even though she had that comfort, something still felt broken inside her, a quiet ache she couldn’t escape.
“I don’t like myself so much.”
“We can fix that.”
He smiled gently, before picking her up effortlessly in his arms, holding her close as if she were something precious.
“For now, I can love you enough for both of us.”
guess who's on her period, touch starved, hungry, lonely, insecure, anxious, angry and seeking comfort (clue: it's me!)
#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#pjo x reader#percy jackson x you#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson x y/n#fanfic#my writing#percy jackson imagines
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Saw You In A Dream (Part One of Two)
Bjorn x fem!reader
Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I’m really getting into this format right now and I am honestly loving this community a lot! I wrote this one kind of out of the blue, but I broke it up into two parts because I was really wanting to build things up more. For this particular part I was hoping to bring some aspects of Alien Isolation into this by including the Seegson Synthetics (or the ‘Working Joes’), but don’t worry it isn’t that integral to the plot, and I’m trying to not touch the lore too much. I hope you guys enjoy this first part though, I will be working on this and many more so keep an eye out for the updates :)
Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Blood/Surgical Procedures, Some Angst, and a little tiny bit of fluff, no smut in this chapter, keep an eye out for the next part tho hehe.
A P.S From the Writer: The title is taken from a song by The Japanese House. I typically listen to music when I write to put me in a good headspace so the song that I tune into to wrap up the chapter usually inspires the title. I will probably make a playlist at some point.
Word Count: 5,615 (Another chunky one!)
The blueprints were laid out on the table. The only light that illuminated the trailer was just above where everyone was sitting.
”This.” Tyler points with the edge of his pen, “Is where we would enter.” He instructed.
”How do you know the doors will even be open?” Bjorn chimed in, interrupting the game plan Tyler was trying to lay out for the team.
“Because I’ve scoped out the place already. You think I’m going to send you in without knowing the ins and outs of the fucking place?” Bjorn shrugged.
”Don’t know, that’s why I asked.” He shot back, walking away from the blueprints. You glanced over at him, watching him settle on the couch with a rough sigh, extending his arm out across the top, getting himself into a comfortable position away from everyone.
”Bjorn, you know you’re gonna have to look the blueprints over to actually know where the fuck you’re going right?” Navarro commented, staring daggers at him from over her shoulder.
”I’m sure I’ll be able to get a play-by-play from all of you, so I’ll stay right here, thank you.” He responded.
“This is an abandoned Weyland-Yutani building Bjorn. We need to be on our fucking game if we don’t want to get caught, now is not the time to have one of your fits.” You said, the backs of your ankles hitting gently against the cabinets below where you were sitting. You knew Tyler had been planning this for a while, and he had worked hard to obtain the blueprints of the place. Not only that, but you knew he was worried about Bjorn copping an attitude, he always did that when he was either jealous or when he didn’t have anything better to do with his time. In this situation, you couldn’t tell why he was being this way.
“If it’s abandoned I’m sure we won’t have any issues, honey.” He smirked. You could feel your blood begin to boil, as your cheeks turned a blush red. He definitely knew how to push everyone’s buttons.
”You think nobody has the same idea of scavenging the place for parts?” Tyler’s voice was filled with disbelief, taken aback by how stupid one person could be. “This is basically a suicide mission if we don’t have a plan. It could be a trap for all we know.”
“Then why are we even trying?” Bjorn questioned, trying to catch Tyler on his own words, his grip tightened on the table, and his teeth bit the flesh on the inside of his lip.
”Because if we don’t try we will be slaves to the corporation for the rest of our fucking lives. If you want that, then you can suit yourself, but we are willing to give it a try.” He said, motioning to the group. At this point everyone was staring at Bjorn, trying to see if any of his features were indicating that he was going to give in and return to his spot at the table, but when he didn’t budge, Tyler just continued with explaining the plan.
————
“Do you know why he was being such a dick today?” Kay asked, leaning against your workstation, looking down on you, watching as your hands worked on fixing your headlamp. You shook your head, wiping the sweat off your forehead, making a note that you needed to find some spare parts to fix your fan.
“I don’t really care, he’s gonna get himself killed if he comes with us though, that’s all I know.” You commented, your nimble fingers working to rewire one of the cords that had been fried. A pang of silence slipped into the room, as you glanced up at her, seeing a small frown appear on her lips. “What? What do you want me to do? Talk to him? Convince him to ask Tyler to show him the blueprints and go over the plan again with him?” You said, the disbelief in your voice almost palpable.
”Rain, Navarro and I have already tried, and Andy….Well you know he won’t take well to Andy.” She says, watching you lean back in your chair so you can get a better look at her, seeing the hidden desperation in her pleading brown eyes. Even though Bjorn could be an asshole at times she still cared about him, and she wanted to make sure that he was going to be safe. Kay would always tell you that family was family regardless of how stupid or mean they could be at times, this was one of those times. You placed the headlamp down on the desk with a defeated sigh.
”Fine…I’ll try, but I’m not promising you anything, if he walks back in with a black eye, don’t blame me. He really pushed my buttons today.” You replied, standing up from your seat, grabbing your sweater, cigarettes and lighter from your work area. She nodded with an understanding smile.
”I know he isn’t fun to be around most of the time, but whether you like it or not we need to have each other's backs, even if it may be hard.” You pulled the sweater over your head, fluffing your hair up, and shaking out the static, shoving your hands into the big pocket to make sure the fabric was covering your oil-stained tank top.
“Yeah, yeah I get it.” You sighed, “I’m gonna go have a cigarette, I’ll update you if my approach works.” She nodded, as you walked by her, down the cramped space of your work area, managing to shift by all the things that you had stacked by the door. You stumbled out into the living room area of the trailer, pushing open the door to step outside onto the makeshift porch you all pitched in to create. You were surprised to see that Bjorn was already outside smoking, sitting on one of the crates everyone used as chairs, watching people go by in their machines. The bright work lights above you were dimmed as the workers were trying to fix the generators that powered them, which allowed your eyes to easily adjust to the surroundings.
“Hey,” You greeted causally. Bjorn glanced over at you, eyebrows going up at your voice as you took up your spot on the other side of the door, leaving a large gap between the two of you. Your hands dug around the pocket of your sweater, slipping one of the cigarettes out of your previously opened pack, and retrieving your lighter in the process. You wrapped your lips around the filter, shifting slightly to get it positioned well before bringing the flame up to the end, breathing in as you lit it. You slid the lighter back in with your pack, and pulled the cigarette away from your lips, blowing the smoke out.
“Y’know, if you’re out here to talk to me about getting on my knees and begging Tyler for forgiveness so he can show me the blueprints and go over the plan again, I’m not gonna do it.” You looked over at him, motioning to your cigarette.
”Does it look like I’m out here to talk to you about that? You made your choice, I’m not here to coddle you like the people in there do.” You commented, shifting your head to the trailer, “They actually care about you.”
“And you?” He pressed, the end of his cigarette glowing, as he took a deep drag, his cheeks hollowing out while doing so. You shrugged.
”Me? I’m indifferent. Couldn’t care less what you choose to do, but I always have to play middleman and run interference when you get out of hand.” You lied. Even when Bjorn was being an absolute trouble maker you still had that little piece of yourself that wanted to make sure he was okay and safe, and breathing. You were hard on yourself and practically refused to admit that it was more than just a friendly concern you had for him. He rolled his eyes, pulling the cigarette away from his lips, forcing the smoke out of his mouth as he spoke.
”Yeah but you don’t have to do that.” He states.
”I’m sorry, it seems like you haven’t met your cousin Kay before, maybe I should introduce you to her sometime.” You shot back, flicking some ashes off onto the ground below you, crossing an arm over your torso. He smirked.
“I’ll repeat myself again sweetheart, since it seems like you didn’t hear me the first time. You don’t have to do that.” Your eyes shot daggers at him, watching his tongue lick his bottom lip, moistening it. “You always have the option to say no, you just choose to step in 'cause that’s the way you show you care.” He stated.
”No. That’s the way I keep the peace.” You emphasized, taking a quick drag “And fix your stupid mistakes.” You added, blowing the smoke out in the process.
“My mistakes?” He exclaimed, pointing at himself, a laugh escaping his throat, “You’re fucking ridiculous love.” You kicked around some rocks that surrounded you, as you stepped toward where Bjorn sat, watching his back straighten.
”Remember the time the mines laid you off 'cause you wouldn’t stop fucking around on the job?” He glanced away from you, looking down at the ground, the rocks crunching under your feet as you leaned into the crate he was sitting on with the side of your hip. “Tyler called, told me all about it, he was revved up because you didn’t have anything else apart from that to fall back on, asked me for a favour to help you out, and practically begged me.” You inhaled against the filter feeling a gentle burn in your lungs, breathing out a cloud of smoke. Bjorn’s eyes returned to you, watching your movements closely, examining your facial features, the way your pupils were blown out due to the dim lighting, and how your lips pursed as you continued the trip down memory lane.
“I refused to help at first, you put yourself into that situation so why should I care? Then all the others called me, and I couldn’t stand it. So I called your manager and made a trade with him to fix some equipment. He hired you back the very next day...Do you remember?” You could see his jaw clench in the dim lighting.
”Yeah. I remember. Didn’t know that was you, I thought I-“
”Was just that important?” You interrupted, your eyes meeting his shiny blue irises, catching him staring, a smirk drawing up on the corners of your mouth as you took another drag from your cigarette, blowing it off to the side out of courtesy, shaking your head. “No. He was adamant about keeping you away from the place actually. It took a lot of convincing.” Bjorn bit the inside of his cheek, tapping off the excess ash onto the rocks below him.
“The people in there knew how much you needed that job to keep you distracted. They care about you.” You took a moment to take another drag, breathing out before leaning in close to him, almost as if you were going to kiss him. “My honest recommendation for you would be to go in there and ask Tyler to go through that plan before you get yourself killed…Because that will be one mistake I won’t be able to fix.” Your voice was smooth, and sultry in a way even if the context of the conversation didn’t fit that type of tone. It made Bjorn’s stomach twist in knots hearing it change so quickly. He dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. You tilted your head a bit, before leaning in even closer, swaying to the side right when you were in close enough proximity so your mouth was at his ear. You pressed the cigarette out on the metal of the trailer, hearing a gentle hiss. Bjorn closed his eyes a disappointed sigh exiting his mouth, feeling your warm breath tickle his ear. “Thought I was gonna do something else?” You asked, leaning back to put your unfinished cigarette into your pocket, a playful smirk dusting your lips, as you shook your head, seeing his dazed eyes studying you.
“In your dreams Bjorn.”
———-
It was you, Tyler, Bjorn, Rain, Andy, and Navarro standing outside the fence that surrounded the abandoned Weyland building the next week. Kay had come down with a fever that day, so she stayed behind to recover and keep the trailer under supervision.
”Andy, you’re with me in the basement, we have to see if there’s anything valuable in the computer system. Rain, Navarro, you two stay together, search through the first two levels.” Tyler paused, looking over at you apologetically, “You and Bjorn will go to the top floor.” You nodded at him sharply, as he threw over a walkie-talkie to you. “Keep in touch, okay?” You slipped the communication device into your pocket, adjusting your headlamp.
”We will meet back here in an hour, right?” You asked, making sure all the plans were understood. Tyler nodded. You sighed, looking over at Bjorn, “Alright, let’s get going.” Motioning your head towards the hole in the fence that Tyler had stretched out a few moments before, fixing the handgun that you had strapped on your thigh. Bjorn crouched down, sneaking underneath the secret entrance as you followed closely behind. You glanced over your shoulder, giving the crew one last look before running towards the building.
From the outside, the building looked like it had been out of commission for decades, even though it had been a mere month since the corporation had let all its employees go. None of the security lights were on, and the emergency lights that were backups for the outage were barely working, this allowed the both of you to easily sneak in through the side door.
The inside of the building looked as if time had stopped within it. Papers were still strewn about the desks, coffee mugs half full with films of mold encrusting the liquid that remained at the bottom of them, and of course brochures with advertisements painted on them, promoting their featured items; insurance, synthetics, and computers.
“How’s it looking?” Tyler’s voice echoed from the walkie-talkie. You dug into your pocket and brought the mic up to your mouth.
”Looks like a building that was owned by a multimillion-dollar corporation. Making our way up to the top level now, I’ll call you if I need you.” You stated, sliding the device back into your pocket, tilting your head towards the emergency stairway.
”There’s an elevator right there.” Bjorn pointed out, you paused.
”Yeah? And this is an abandoned fucking building. If you want to risk getting stuck in there by all means go ahead…I’m gonna take the stairs.” He sighed.
”Always your way or the highway huh?” He commented, pushing by you to go towards the door, once again with you trailing behind him closely. You turned on your headlamp, and walked up in silence, your hand holding the handle of your gun, making sure you were prepared if you ran into anything. By the time you reached the top level, Bjorn was winded, hunching over his knees to catch his breath.
”My god that was a fucking workout.” He said, wheezing slightly. You stared down at him, your eyebrows raising at the way he tried to stabilize himself. It took him a few minutes to finally get his breathing under control before he stood up straight, his face darkened by the blood that had rushed to his head from the positioning, a sigh escaping his lips.
“You good now princess?” You asked mocking the nickname that he used with some people, catching him off guard.
”Yeah yeah. I’m fine.” He brushed the comment off, pushing against the door of the top floor, walking into the dimly lit room, with you following. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bjorn murmured, you looked up at him, then followed his gaze to what he was going on about. It was a room full of desks, and different designs for synthetics, with a wide range of styles, big, and small, from human-looking to robotic and many more. One of the models stood out more than the most, one that you had never seen before. They were scattered among the rest, but you couldn’t recognize the make even though you had done extensive research on Weyland's production scheme, their goal of making the synthetics as human-looking as possible. These were extremely far away from that goal. The models looked cold and rubbery, the pale blue finish making your spine straighten. No wonder they wanted to make them look human, You thought.
“Just our fucking luck we get sent to a level that has a bunch of synthetics.” Bjorn pressed his fingers into the sides of his head, continuing to rifle off expletives as you grabbed the walkie-talkie.
”Tyler, we’re on the top level.” You informed, trying to make it quick so he didn’t catch Bjorn’s rant, but to no avail.
”What’s going on up there? What’s all the noise?” His voice was muffled, cutting in and out. You figured he might have been going down into the basement and losing connection.
”There’s synthetics up here.” You whispered, your eyes following Bjorn’s rapid, and chaotic pacing, his hands running through his hair nervously. There was a beat of silence, as you pressed down on the side of the device again, “Hello?” You mumbled, realizing that you lost connection. You slid the walkie-talkie back into your pocket, ignoring Bjorn’s panic, your eyes scanned the surrounding area, your hand clenching the gun on your leg once again. From where you were standing you could see files on each desk with prototype names written down on bright green sticky notes. You moved towards one of them, flipping it open to look at the typed notes that you assumed the developer had written out, trying to find any information you could on the state the synthetic was in.
“-Fucking stupid goddamn things are gonna kill us.” You turned your attention back to Bjorn, watching him seethe. You knew he had always had a weird thing about synthetics, and you didn’t blame him, he didn’t have a positive experience with any of them, except Andy, and that was saying something. He always toted the line of tolerating his presence, but this reaction was overboard even to his standards.
“Bjorn-” You cut in.
“I knew this was a bad idea, I fucking knew we were going to run into something like this-”
“Bjorn!” You yelled over him, causing his voice to cut off mid-sentence, stopping him dead in his tracks, “They’re not going to turn on.” You lifted the file in the air for him to look at what you were reading, “Their software isn’t even installed yet, they’re just the shells.” You threw the papers on the table, now going through the drawers, shuffling the contents around to see if there was anything that could be of use.
“H-How do you know that all of them are like that?” He stuttered out, slowly moving towards you, hoping that if anything were to happen there would be an advantage in numbers. His eyes glanced over at the synthetic you stood beside, the hazy blue skin tone practically glowing in the darkness that surrounded the both of you. A shiver went up his spine, seeing the unnaturally empty look the eyes had.
“Well, we’ll just keep checking the files and searching the desks for parts. The power is out in the building so I don’t think-.” Suddenly the sound of the bright fluorescent lights turning on interrupted your explanation, your eyes burning from your pupils trying to adjust to the harsh change, a conjoined hiss echoing between you and Bjorn. The low hum of the computers turning on grabbed your attention immediately, you glanced up at the screen to look at what was loading, not knowing what kind of codes were popping up.
“You were saying?” Bjorn commented, looking over your shoulder so he could see what you were seeing, not realizing how close he was to your exposed neck, his hot breath causing your skin to become sticky. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, ignoring the feeling, a loud locking noise echoing through the space.
“Fuck.” You muttered, running over to the emergency staircase door, pushing against it, not feeling any give to it, “Oh fuck.” Bjorn let out a forced laugh.
“We’re fucking screwed.” He leaned against the desk, his head tilted back to look at the ceiling. “We are so FUCKING screwed!” He screamed, kicking the synthetic in front of him causing it to fall onto the ground, unplugging from the computer. You flinched at his outburst.
“Bjorn calm down, please…” He looked over at you, his head shaking back and forth.
“Calm down? We are stuck in a fucking room chalked FULL of synthetics. We have no idea what their directives are, and we don’t have communications with that stupid fuckhead in the basement. Then you tell me to calm down?!” He yelled, staring down at the synthetic he had kicked. You stood against the door, grabbing the walkie-talkie out of your pocket, and pressing down on the button on the side, hands shaking from all the screaming as you kept your eyes locked on Bjorn’s.
“Tyler…Are you there?” The room's silence was deafening at that point, all you could hear was the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights. From the other end of the line all you could hear was static, the sound of something scraping against the mic. “Tyler god damn it are you there?!” You snapped, noticing a pair of eyes begin to glow a dim red in the distance, your breath hitching in your throat. Bjorn could see your facial expressions change, twisting and forming into something filled with sheer panic. All your skin had lost colour, and you turned pale, almost translucent, your breathing speeding up, as you tried to get yourself back into check. “Tyler please, if you can hear me, we are locked in on the top level…We need help.” Your voice was in a low whisper, your eyes still trained on the synthetic that began to tap around its body, trying to locate the plug that kept it connected to the computer as you slowly slid yourself down the door. The thought of their directives now coming into perspective.
“W-What are you doing?” Bjorn questioned, moving towards you, a confused look appearing on his face. You were shaking your head, watching another set of eyes glow red, and another.
“Bjorn…Get down.” You said through gritted teeth, your hand going towards your gun again. He crouched onto his knees, getting in front of you, looking at your frantic eye movements, now drawing his attention to what you were looking at.
“Fuck.” Was all he could manage to get out as one of the synthetics unplugged itself, its head slowly, methodically, turning side to side, like it was scanning the area. You were about to say something but Bjorn’s hand clasped against your mouth tightly, his eyes glaring over at you, the pointer finger of his other hand coming up to his lips, signalling for you to be quiet.
“Get under a desk.” He mouthed, “And don’t make a sound.” He added, watching you nod, his hand slowly leaving your mouth, your eyes searching his for a moment before shifting onto your knees, and crawling towards one of the nearby desks, trying your best to be as quiet as possible. Your ears were in tune with how the synthetics slowly began to move around, not making a noise, like they were trying to be as sneaky as you and Bjorn. Your movements were quick as you shoved yourself under the nearest desk, your back pressed up against the hardwood, hoping that you were hidden enough. You looked across the way, seeing Bjorn take his spot across from you, under his separate spot, his eyes trailing over to you almost like he was silently checking in. From behind the desk, you could hear two objects drop to the ground, the sound of feet shuffling entering the environment soon after. Bjorn’s gaze locked in above the desk, his jaw tightening as he observed what was going on above you.
“Guys. Are you there?” Tyler’s voice echoed through the walkie-talkie line, your hand immediately grabbing it out of your pocket to turn it off, but it was too late. The synthetic had already made its way around the desk in one swift movement.
“We are only here to help.” The modulated voice said, grabbing onto your wrist as it dragged you out from under the desk, tugging you up onto your feet, “Just hold still.” Then everything went black.
---------
“Tyler, drive for fuck sake, I don’t know if he’s breathing.” Rain’s voice ripped through the darkness.
“I’m trying!” He yelled back. You could feel your head pulsing as it lulled to the side, your neck feeling limp. You struggled to take in a breath without your lungs feeling like they were about to collapse. A whistling sound escaped your throat as you tried to breathe in and out..
“Andy what’s going on with her back there?!” Navarro’s voice echoed through the truck, sounding exhausted as the wheels hit three consecutive bumps in a row, shaking everyone in the enclosed space.
“She may have an internal bleed of some sort, I hear wheezing, and she is cold to the touch.” He responded calmly, feeling his hands run down the sides of your ribcage, a low cry escaping your lips as he touched what you presumed to be a bruise on your right side. “Rain, I don’t know what is happening.” Andy’s voice trembled slightly, turning you to your left, as a louder, more guttural cry echoed through the space, your chest feeling like it was being ripped out from your flesh. Your lungs were on fire, as your mouth opened, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, another whistling noise accompanying your breaths. A high-pitched moan now joined in with the noises you were making. You tried to force your eyes open, but nothing was working.
“Bjorn…It’s okay, we are all here, just calm down, you’re in the truck.” Rain explained, you could feel Andy’s fingers press down onto one area of your ribcage, tapping against them.
“Rain I think she’s got blood around her lungs, the sounds are dull, she won’t be able to breathe properly until we relieve the pressure and remove the clot-.” Andy’s words caught in his throat, as there was aggressive movement happening from in front of you.
“Bjorn, relax man, don’t move, we will take care of her.” Navarro said softly “She’s gonna be alright.” You couldn’t make out what he was trying to say, but you could hear his voice, the hoarseness of it, the jumbled wording coming out like gibberish. From the darkness you could hear things being moved around, hearing someone searching for something.
”Andy here. Take this. Do what you need to do to keep her alive.” Rain interrupted, her tone firm. You felt your sweater go up, as cold fingertips pressed into your ribcage, trying to locate the space between. He stopped momentarily, keeping his finger on the spot. You could hear shuffling, and then the sharp tip of a blade pressing into the spot Andy had found. A screech escaping your throat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Andy repeated over and over again, as he dug his finger into the slit it made, creating a bigger hole, tearing your flesh. You could feel hot sticky blood run down your skin, as he removed his finger, replacing it with something hard and plastic, threading it through.
“What the fuck are you doing to her?! Get your fucking hands off of her!” Bjorn yelled, his voice muffled by something, you couldn’t tell if it was your ears or something that was physically wrong with him that was causing his words to sound like that.
“Bjorn, he is helping her…Look at the tube.” Rain said, there was movement once again, as your chest began to feel less and less weighed down, until finally you could draw in a sharp breath, letting the air fill your lungs with ease.
————
The first thing you heard when you regained consciousness was the soft snoring of someone. It was calm, quiet, soothing in a way. You moved slightly, as pain shot up your side, a hiss escaping your throat. You could feel that you were propped up with a few pillows behind your back, as you forced your eyes open, the dim light of your cramped room coming into focus. You swallowed, taking in your surroundings, noticing Bjorn sitting at your bedside with his head tilted back pressing against the wall behind him. He looked roughed up, his face filled with scrapes that looked like they were almost healed. His lip was busted and bruised, and there was a bright red spot just below his eye, not being able to identify if it was a scar or not. If he looked like that you couldn’t imagine what kind of damage was done to you.
“B-B-Bjorn.” You breathed, your voice hollow and dry, as you reached out your hand, tapping against his leg. He hummed, his eyes slowly blinking open, his gaze meeting yours, a small smile coming up on his lips.
”Hey….Good morning.” He said in a joking tone, moving his chair so he was closer to your bedside. You swallowed loudly.
”How…How long have I…” You struggled to speak, watching him grab a glass of water off from your bedside table, holding the straw for you so you could drink, the liquid cooling the inside of your chest.
”About a week.” He responded softly, pulling the straw away from your lips, “You had a few clots in your lungs…Andy was able to remove them with this makeshift chest tube thing he created in the back of the truck, once they were out it was like you slipped into this deep sleep…We didn’t think you would wake up.” He admitted, breaking eye contact, hearing an unfamiliar sadness lacing his voice. You swallowed, nodding.
“And how long have you been sitting here?” You asked quietly.
”The entire time.” He responded, “Took a break to shower, but the majority of the time I was here, waiting.” You could feel your heart catch at the confession, he took in a shaky breath, “I was so scared.” His eyes met yours, as you noticed a tear fall down his cheek. You hadn’t seen Bjorn like this. You were around when his mother passed and even then the state he slipped into was that of rage, not tears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you reached a hand out, placing it against his stubbly cheek, catching a stray droplet that fell from the corner of his eye, “I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered, his hand coming up to place it atop of yours. You could feel your eyes begin to fill with tears as well, the emotions flooding you quickly, overwhelming you, realizing how much Bjorn had done, how much time he dedicated to making sure you were going to have someone be there when you woke up. He took your hand off his cheek, bringing the back of it up to his lips, giving it a light peck as he held it tightly.
“Come here.” You beckoned, finding what little strength you had in your muscles to push yourself to the right side of the bed to make room for him. He looked at you, almost as if he was asking if you were sure. You patted the free space now, watching him get up and kick off his shoes, lifting the heavy covers so he could slide in next to you. His cheeks were wet with his tears as you wiped them with your knuckle, “I’m okay Bjorn, you don’t have to worry anymore.” His rough hand held your elbow gently, as he nodded, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, the both of you closing your eyes, your hands holding his neck as you breathed him in. You laid there enjoying the silence for a moment, until you decided to lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, tasting the blood that was caked on them from the cuts. His breath hitched in his throat as his hand rested on your waist. You pulled away quickly realizing what you just did.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know what I was th-.” He shook his head.
”Please don’t apologize, I’ve wanted that for so long, don’t ruin it with an apology.” Bjorn murmured, his forehead meeting yours again. You smirked.
”I don’t want you getting the wrong idea, thinking I’m doing it to thank you.” He leaned back to look at you, his eyes scanning over your face.
”Are you doing it for any other reasons I may not know about?” He questioned.
”Maybe it is the fact that we almost died in that building without giving ourselves a chance to admit there’s something between us that we never acknowledged.” You explained, your fingertips tracing his frowny face tattoo just below his ear.
”So you feel it too, hmm?” You glanced at him, “I knew you couldn't possibly resist.” He joked, leaning forward to place another kiss against your lips, “I didn't even have to wait to have a dream about it either.” He added.
#alien franchise#alien romulus fanfic#bjorn alien romulus#alien: romulus#bjorn alien romulus x reader#bjorn x fem reader#alien romulus#spike fearn
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Loss is loss," Benjamin shrugs his shoulder, huffing a distant sound. Nowhere near a laugh, but more of an acknowledgment. "You shouldn't have had to go through that, anymore than I shouldn't have had to go through the things I did. Fuck, man. We were kids." watching as the beer arrived, and tilting his head in thanks.
The difference between the two men though? Benjamin's anger. That darkness that had been bred, and then honed. Living with vengeance was the only way he'd found any modicum of peace.
'You think it might right a wrong, give you closure — it won't'
Benjamin doesn't agree, and it says so as he shifts in his seat, causing the upturn of the corner of his lips. "Did you seek revenge? For your parents?" a pause. "Or are you guessing that it won't make me feel better?" There was a reason he'd been likened to Johnathan...that unwielded rage that most hadn't yet seen. The need to serve. The need to hurt. It lay under that young boy smile, the yet to age face.
And he needed somewhere to direct it. Finely educated, the only credentials he had was working for Melissa Lin. A title, and a fine reputation in itself...he'd bore quickly. He needed this.
'Whose fault is it then, Benjamin? Hers or yours?'
Benjamin doesn't answer immediately.
He sits on it. Traces condensation dripping down the glass in hand, cold seeping into his fingertips. His first instinct is to deflect, throw some biting comment back at Gideon that might force the conversation in some other direction, but the weight of it all, that fucking question settles heavily on top of him. His life, Melissa, his parents, Étienne...his brothers.
Benjamin felt like the world was weighing down on him, and he was it's sole bearer. It's not the first time he's wondered about it, too many times has it found it's way into his thoughts, his dreams...but having someone like Gideon ask it so bluntly strips away any excuse he might've leaned on.
Any chance he could escape those nightmares.
He's fucking lost. Staring. Like the young boy he was still, rummaging to the surface.
Benjamin hadn't quite lost that to his years yet.
"Both," he finally says, eyes vacant, blue a vast nothingness. He doesn’t look at Gideon, can't bare it, honestly: instead, his eyes finds the drink in his hand. "It'd be hers for pulling the trigger. Mine for giving her the reason to, I guess."
Loyalty was a dog: and he was her hound. Benjamin knows it’s not the answer Gideon wants, not the clean division of responsibility he'd probably hoped to hear. And he wouldn't lie to him, his mind had been moulded to Melissa Lin's tactics some eleven years ago...there was no changing his heel. But it’s the truth as Benjamin sees it. Melissa isn’t without her flaws, but she’s always been clear about the stakes. He accepted them the day he stepped into her world.
Into the Rutherford name. And while she commanded it, he obeyed.
He leans back, letting the chair creak under his weight. "Look, I’m not saying she’s perfect. Far from it, fuckin' hell...I'm meant to be smart, right. But... I owe her. A fuckin' lot. Not just for keeping me alive, but for making me into something. Someone. And yeah, that comes with risks. But doesn’t everything?"
Jabbing a finger over his shoulder, he shakes his head -- aware that there were parts of Melissa that Gideon refused to see. To acknowledge. "My parent's killer is here...drinking, laughing...and Melissa's checked in on me every two hours." The side eye, shoulders shrugging. She was his family. Benjamin knows he's justifying, fuckin' rationalizing. Gideon can probably see through it, but it’s the only way he’s ever been able to make peace. "I know you think I’m just another pawn in her game. And maybe I am. But...I chose this life. I know exactly what I signed up for."
Raising his glass, he huffs. "So if she shoots me one day? At least I’ll go down knowing I didn’t sit back and let the world tear me a-fuckin-part." He leans forward, his elbows on the table. "What about you? You’ve seen the same shit I have. What made you realise you'd never want...this" he knew Melissa well, knew a lot of what went on in the Rutherford's -- it was his job to know.
After everything Benjamin reveals about his past, it's less what he says and more how his voice breaks hoarsely over that single word, 'yep', that coaxes Gideon's begrudging sympathy for him. Silently, he hails the bartender, ordering another round of beers for them. Tonight, Benjamin can acquire his own, compliments of his allocation to the rich tents, but there's some goodwill hidden in the gesture nonetheless.
"It isn't all that similar, and I won't pretend that it is." He replies, concerning the demise of both their biological parents. "A car accident doesn't quite leave the same scars as death by unnecessary violence, and I certainly wouldn't have wanted to see what you stepped into, that day you found their bodies." No, it'd be insensitive to claim that he understood what Benjamin had experienced.
But he does understand loss, through and through. Time and time again.
'I can't let it go.' — That's what he's afraid of, that's the part that will consume the boy, if he lets it. Because the Rutherford's seen that too. Time and time again.
"There are plenty of occupations that don't involve breaking the law, Ben." Lest the young man feel he's trying to step into the role of father, unsolicited, Gideon adds;
"I'm just saying. And the thing about anger, is that there's no end to it. Your anger won't bring them back. Murdering Étienne won't bring them back. You think it might right a wrong, give you closure — it won't." He's seen it play out too many times among other members in his father's mob. Recruited with the sweet promise of vengeance, only to find it hollow once they'd sacrificed everything to obtain it.
'And if I die for it, then... That’s on me.'
Gideon takes another sip of his beer. "You haven't answered the question." The bottle settles back on the table, and the surgeon fixes him with a scrutinizing look. "I'm not asking if you die out of bad luck. I'm saying imagine a scenario where you change your mind. Where you decide 'to hell with it, I don't want to work for Ms. Lin anymore', and she shoots you point blank in return. Whose fault is it then, Benjamin? Hers or yours?"
#drrutherford#gideon & benjamin#event: the camp out 24'#don't murdaaaaa me for the LENGTH#ly hehe#location: main bar
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
the bitter hilarity of not ever wanting to be perceived yet feeling incredibly hurt whenever you’re being overlooked
#I guess it’s one thing to decide for yourself to not see and interact with anyone#and another to get intentionally ignored by someone else#I’m at a point where I don’t want to go out with this friend of mine anymore#because every time we’re anywhere men will instantly come up to her to flirt#and I’m just standing next to her. as if I’m not even there#they will only have eyes for her and ask her questions while I’m right there too#or. even worse. like today. them saying: ‘oh you’re definitely the prettiest’ to her#while I’m standing beside her with only my mom completing our little group#and this has happened ever since we were 14 years old#I just fucking hate men and how bad they make me feel about myself I hate it I hate it so much#and I just wanna stay inside on my own forever#deciding for myself to be invisible#tonight sucked. good night
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Oh, Nanaminnnn!”
At the familiar, cheery voice, Kento looks up to see no one other than Satoru Gojo, leaning against the doorframe of his office with his usual grin. “Saw with my Six Eyes that you came to fill out those reports here instead of doing it from home. Been so long since you showed your face here and—” He cuts himself off with an excited gasp, then walks closer as his smile grows wider. “You brought my little mochi!”
In Kento’s left arm, his daughter—who had woken up from her nap about ten minutes ago—coos excitedly when Satoru enters her vision, reaching her hands towards him. “Well, hello there, sweetheart! I was wondering when I’d see you again!” He slides his hands under her plush arms, then picks her up, skillfully—and safely, Kento notes—holding her in his arms. Tiny hands brush against Satoru’s blindfold, and he lifts it so his niece can see his blue eyes. They immediately soften when the baby girl laughs when he gently tickles her tummy.
It’s so cute that Kento can’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting.
“Wait—Did I hear that right?! Nanamin’s here?!”
“Itadori, wait for us!”
“Kugisaki, you dropped your bag—Oh, come on, guys, slow down!”
Rapid footsteps approach, then the three first years appear at the door, gasping in unison.
“Oh, my gosh!” Yuuji, the pink-haired teenager shouts as he points at the baby in Satoru’s arms. “Nanamin, when did you have a baby?!”
Nobara’s question comes a split-second after Yuuji’s is finished. “Is that why [Y/L/N]-sensei quit a while ago?!”
Megumi walks to stand beside Satoru to analyze the little bundle in his teacher’s arms. “She’s… adorable.” He mumbles, gently smiling when she wraps her hand around his finger. “Very adorable. She has [Y/L/N]-sensei’s laugh.”
“Isn’t she just so precious?” Satoru asks, proudly showing her off to the first years. “So sweet and friendly, just like her Uncle Gojo.”
“Hopefully she won’t be as reckless as you,” Kento says as he holds his hands out, and Satoru returns his daughter to him. “[Y/N] and I already believe that she’ll be the exact opposite of me.”
Yuuji sits beside Kento to get a closer look at her. “She’s so cute. How old is she, Nanamin?”
“Four months as of yesterday.”
Nobara crosses her arms and pouts. “How come only he knew?” She asks, gesturing to Satoru.
“Well, when I had to go away on a long mission, she was only a month old,” Kento explains. “He kept an eye on her and [Y/N] for me; made sure that they were both safe. I’m very grateful. We had plans to tell you about our daughter soon.”
“Where is she now?” Megumi asks.
“At home. I wanted her to have the morning and most of the afternoon to herself. I’ll be heading back shortly.”
Satoru and the students share similar looks with each other, and Kento knows what they want to ask. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. “Hi, baby,” you greet when the line connects, “how’s our girl?”
“Hi, love. She’s amazing, as always,” he says as he looks down, playfully poking the little one’s nose. “I’m with Gojo and our students. They want to know if it’s alright to come and see you.”
“We’ll cook dinner if you’re too tired!” Nobara chimes in hopefully.
“Actually, better yet, I can just order something for everyone,” Satoru suggests.
“And we’ll clean up,” Yuuji and Megumi say at the same time.
You laugh, then answer Kento, “That’s more than alright. Bring them here.”
“Thought you’d say that. See you in a bit.”
“Yes!” Yuuji cheers. “Alright, I’m gonna ride with Nanamin so I can sit next to the baby!”
Nobara glares at him. “Not if I get to the car first!!”
When they sprint out the door, Megumi groans before rushing after them. “Didn’t I just tell you guys to slow down? We’re going to the same place!”
Satoru laughs, then waits for Kento to finish up so they can walk out together.
—
there was an ask in my inbox requesting a cute drabble for dad! nanami ft. gojo (as a trusted friend of his) and the first years, but it disappeared. hope u like it, anon <3
#nanami fluff#nanami x fem!reader#nanami x you#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk au#parent au#dad! nanami#jujutsu kaisen x reader#written by rey <3#everyone is happy bc i freaking said so#he'd be the most amazing parent ever.#love him#yuuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#nobara kugisaki#nanami kento#kento nanami fluff#kento nanami#satoru gojo#nanami imagine
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
impetus
summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?
pairing: dean winchester x female reader
word count: 9.4k+
warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes
“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.
You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.
“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.
“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”
“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.
“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”
“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”
“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.
You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.
“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”
“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”
You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.
“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.
Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.
“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.
“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.
“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.
“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”
“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”
“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.
The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.
“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”
You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”
“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.
The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.
“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”
“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”
He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”
“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.
You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.
“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.
“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.
“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.
You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.
A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.
“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.
Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.
Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“
“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.
Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.
“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”
“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.
“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.
“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”
Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.
Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.
By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”
Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.
“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”
“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.
She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”
“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.
Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.
“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”
Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.
The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.
Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.
“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.
“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.
“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”
After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.
“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.
“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”
Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”
“What?” Dean asked gruffly.
“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”
“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”
Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”
“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.
“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.
“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.
Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.
“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.
“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.
You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.
“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.
“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”
“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.
“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”
Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.
“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.
“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.
“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.
He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.
The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.
Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”
“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.
“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”
Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”
He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.
“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.
By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.
“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.
“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.
“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.
“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.
“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.
Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”
“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.
“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.
“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.
“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.
Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”
You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”
“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.
“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”
Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”
Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.
“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”
You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.
“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.
“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.
You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.
He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.
Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.
As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.
“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.
“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.
Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”
Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.
Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.
“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.
The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.
“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”
Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”
“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.
“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”
“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.
“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”
“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”
“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.
“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.
“What, why?” you asked in confusion.
“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”
“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.
“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.
You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”
The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”
By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.
“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.
You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.
Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.
Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.
“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.
Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.
He couldn’t reach you.
He couldn’t save you.
The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.
As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.
The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.
“Dean.”
The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.
“Dean.”
He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.
“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.
A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.
“God dammit, Dean!”
Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.
“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.
His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.
“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”
“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”
“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.
“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.
“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.
Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.
“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”
Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.
Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.
Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.
His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.
Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.
Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.
“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.
“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.
“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.
With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.
He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.
Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.
“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”
“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”
“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.
While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”
“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”
“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.
“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.
“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”
“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.
“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.
The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.
“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.
“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.
Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”
“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.
“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”
“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”
“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”
“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”
“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.
“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.
“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.
Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”
“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”
“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”
“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”
Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”
“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”
“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”
“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”
“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”
“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”
“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.
“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”
“Sam-”
“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”
“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.
After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”
“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”
“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.
“Dean,” Sam chastised.
“What?”
“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”
Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.
“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.
“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”
“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”
“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.
“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”
Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.
Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.
“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.
“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.
“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”
“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”
“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.
“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.
“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.
“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.
“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.
“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”
His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.
“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.
“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.
“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.
“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.
“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”
“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”
Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.
“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.
“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.
Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”
“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”
“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.
“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.
“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.
Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.
“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.
You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.
He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.
At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.
It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.
Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”
While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.
“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”
His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”
“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”
He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”
You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.
Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”
The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.
“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.
You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.
“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.
“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.
“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.
“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”
“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.
“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”
He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”
“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.
He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”
“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.
“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.
“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.
He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”
“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.
“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”
“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.
“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”
He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.
He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”
“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”
“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”
“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”
“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.
“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.
“It’s not gonna kill me!”
“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”
He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”
“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”
He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”
You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.
“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”
“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”
“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”
“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”
“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”
“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”
“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“You know what,” you scolded.
“This is so fucking ridiculous.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.
“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”
Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.
“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”
Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.
“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”
“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.
“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.
He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”
He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”
“I do,” you agreed quietly.
“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”
He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”
“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”
“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.
“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”
“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.
“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.
“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.
“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”
“Right,” you agreed.
“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.
“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”
“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”
“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.
Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”
“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.
“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”
“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.
“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”
“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.
“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”
You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.
“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”
“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.
“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”
“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”
“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”
“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.
“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.
“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.
“Okay,” he said with a huff.
“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.
Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.
You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.
“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.
“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”
“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.
“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.
“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”
“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.
“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”
“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”
You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”
He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”
“Always,” you said honestly.
“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.
He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.
“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.
“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.
He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.
When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.
The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.
The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.
He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.
Maybe witches aren’t so bad.
tagging: @roseblue373
let me know if you'd like to be tagged!
#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#dean fic#dean winchester fic#dean x reader#dean x female!reader#dean x y/n#dean x you#dean winchester angst#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female!reader#dean fluff#dean angst#dean winchester fluff#supernatural fic#spn fic#spn fanfic#jensen ackles#jared padalecki
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
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
#k-labels#k-films#kflixnet#enhypen#ni ki fluff#niki smau#ni ki scenarios#riki scenarios#enhypen headcanons#enhypen imagines#enhypen angst#riki#enhypen fic#ni ki x reader#riki texts#niki texts#ni ki texts#riki smau#nishimura riki x reader#enhypen scenarios#nishimura riki#niki fluff#ni ki x you#niki x reader#niki x you#riki reactions#niki scenarios#enhypen reactions#riki x reader#riki nishimura
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.
They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.
The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.
When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.
Then he saw the woman.
He froze. He stared. She stared back.
He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.
She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”
“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”
“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”
“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”
She seemed surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”
He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.
“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”
He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”
“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.
The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”
The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.
The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.
When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.
“What the hell,” said the vicomte.
“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”
“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”
The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form, something like a moose and an orangutan.
“I had a moment of weakness.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”
“I got married.”
“And that’s another thing–”
“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”
The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.
“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”
The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”
The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”
4K notes
·
View notes