#prom dresses for fat girls

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Nope.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they’re silenced immediately. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't like it one bit. 

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

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

A spark. 

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

What the hell was that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That scared the shit out of him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

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

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

“Gross.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

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

Bam. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You. He still needs to save you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What. The. Fuck. 

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

Until now. 

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

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

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

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

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

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing. 

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

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

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

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

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

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

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

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

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

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

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

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

Do not say it’s true. 

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

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

“Holy shit.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

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

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

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

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

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

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

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

“Jake.” 

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d Jake find out?” 

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

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

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

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But first, he has to try something out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought girls liked this.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

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

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

[lillypad910]

Chocolate Cake Milkshakes

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chubby!Girly!F!Reader

Word count: 2450

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Smut, protected sex, p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), pet names (Sweetheart, Princess), parent/child favoritism that’s not reader, perfect older sibling and disappointment younger child dynamic (only for a bit), a little bit of fat shamming. Not proof read, sorry for errors!

Summary: You have a date with your boyfriend Eddie Munson, who, like the gentleman he is, picks you up from home. Your mom favors your sister once again but you don’t let it deter you from the dinner your boyfriend takes you on at Benny’s for your favorite shakes and the rest of the date spent in his van by the lake.

A/n: for my fellow chubby girls that get told they don’t need that milkshake, or can’t wear that dress, or eat like a child. You are seen, and you are PERFECT. Be that main character I know you are.

All images found on Pinterest

Eddie couldn’t help but feel excited as he pulled his van into your driveway. His heart pounding in his chest as he stepped out of the still turned on vehicle before walking up to your front door. After a single push of the doorbell, the obnoxious ringing being heard even from outside, your door swings open. Your mother stood before him, smiling.

“Why hello, Eddie!” She greets him, “Come in, (y/n) should be ready in a moment.” She opens the door wider to let the tall boy in.

Your mother is a known individual among the residents of Hawkins, being an ex cheerleading captain when she was in her prime. Still to this day she has kept her shape.

Eddie sits in the living room on the plush plaid couch, glancing around the room. He had been to your house a few times already, but never explored. He’s always just snuck in through your window at night after your parents had gone to bed, so he takes the opportunity to look around.

There are pictures all around the room of your parents and your older sister, Stacy, but he notices fairly quickly how there are significantly less pictures of you. He sees the pictures of Stacy in the Hawkins Pageant, winning first place every time, her cheerleading photos, her photo as prom Queen and her graduation photo, but the only pictures he sees of you are you with the rest of the family. Specifically one catches his eye, you were a lot younger, maybe three or four. You were standing in front of the water at the beach, your hands in the sand as your swimsuit top’s strap was hanging off your shoulder.

“Mom, have you seen my pearl necklace? I can’t find-” you step into the living room, stopping when you see Eddie. You had on a cute dress that flowed out after your waist, cutting off at your knees. “Oh! I didn’t know you were already here! I’ll be ready in just a second, I’m sorry to keep you waiting!” You hold up your hands defensively before walking into your kitchen. “What was that, dear?” Your mother asks. “My pearl necklace, do you know where it is? I can’t find it-” she cuts you off before you can finish, “Oh! Yes, Stacy has it, she asked if she could borrow it from you last week, I guess she hasn’t brought it back yet.” Your mom simply smiles, unfazed by your smile dropping.

“What? Mom, I told you I don’t like her using my jewelry! That was Granny’s! She gave it to me-!” “Well, Stacy wanted it, you know I can’t say no to her, dear.” You sigh, being reminded like always that Stacy’s wants are more important than your own. “Now run along and finish getting ready, you’re making poor Eddie wait on you for too long. Also,” your mother glances at Eddie before turning back to you and looking you up and down, “are you sure you want to wear that dress? I mean…” she leans over and pats at your stomach.

Your eyes widen and you subconsciously suck in your belly. “I… I thought it was cute…” you try to defend your decision. “If you say so…” your mother goes back to making dinner for herself and your father. You sigh before running back upstairs to find a different necklace.

You don’t bother changing, thinking your mom was just being how she usually is. That’s until you stand in front of your mirror one final time, noticing the subtle chub of your stomach poking out of the loose fabric of your dress. But before you can even begin to pick out another dress, you remind yourself you have a poor boy downstairs waiting on you, with your mother.

You enter the living room once more, smiling at the lanky guy on your couch. “Sorry,” his head snaps in your direction when you speak. “Ready to go?” He asks you, standing up from the couch. You nod, and your mom comes running in. “You two have fun! Eddie, make sure to have her home by 11, please.” Eddie nods, “Yes, ma’am, I will.” You both leave, and as you step out of the door frame, Eddie’s fingers intertwine with yours, making you smile.

“So,” you speak once the door shuts behind you, “Where ‘re we going tonight?” He looks back at you and smiles, “I was thinking going to Benny’s for food before heading to the lake? Wayne’s off tonight so I don’t really wanna go back to my place.” His face flushes at the inclination. “Sounds good!” You smile, walking up to his van, “I’ve honestly been craving one of Benny’s chocolate cake milkshakes, those things are diabetes in a cup but they are so good!”

When you both make it to the diner, Benny greets you with a smile, “Good to see you two again,” he pours some coffee into the mug of one of the costumers at the counter before making is way over to you as you both slid into a booth by the windows. “Always happy to have regulars! Let me guess, two chocolate cake shakes and a double quarter pounder with cheese, extra fries” he says pointing at Eddie, “and a 6 piece tender basket with honey, buttered toast, and cheese curds?” he points at you. You both smile as Eddie leans over the table to you, “do we seriously come here that much?” You can’t help but laugh. “Apparently.”

When the food is brought out to you, you both dig in quickly. “I swear I will never get over this shake,” you say, leaning back into the booth’s cushion as you suck up the delicious chocolatey goodness from the large straw. Eddie nods, shoving fry that he dipped into the whipped topping into his mouth. “For real, you’ll have to beg him for the recipe one day.”

Eddie watches you sit the glass down, before ripping a tender in half and dipping it into the sauce cup of honey, quickly shoving the steaming chicken into your mouth. The soft hum that escapes you as your body sways side to side, eyes closing out of pure glee from the taste of the food.

Eddie was always happy watching you eat, from your little dances to excited squeals when the food was placed in front of you, he never got tired of it. He loved seeing you all happy.

After the plates were emptied and your shakes sucked down, Eddie went up to the counter to pay, leaving you alone to suck the last remaining drops of your shake. When he returns, he laughs as he watches you suck up the air in the glass, aggressively trying to get whatever you could out. You finally sit the glass down, “ok I’m done.” He chuckles and holds out his hands, which you take, and he helps pull you out of the booth.

You both drive down to the lake, heads banging to his new cassette tape by Metallica, his long curly hair whipping around as you giggle. “Eddie!” You laugh, trying to fix his hair when he finally stops, getting it out of his face so he can actually see.

When you pull into the lake, the sun has already set and he turns to you, “So,” he smiles, suddenly all sheepish. “What do you- hey!” You quickly unbuckle and squeeze yourself to the back of the van. His litter of blankets and pillows cover the hard surface of the folded back seats and his trunk floor. “Oh come on, Munson, don’t look at me like that.” You place your chubby cheek against the side of the headrest of your original seat. He unbuckles, that cute toothy grin on his face, before shoving himself in between the seats with you. You giggle as you pull him through, grabbing at his arm and pulling towards yourself.

When he flops through, falling with his back flat onto the bed of the van, you quickly lean over him. Your lips interlock, his arms quickly grabbing at your waist and pulling you on top of him. At first you’re hesitant, not wanting to put all your weight on the scrawny guy, but he quickly pushing your arms out from under you, making you fall flat on him.

“Eddie..!” You giggle when he kisses across your nose and cheeks. “What?” He pulls away, his brown doe eyes staring back at you. You huff, faking annoyance as you sit up, and lay your back against the side of his van. “Sweetheart,” he flips over and crawls to you, his hands brushing up your legs, as he smiles up at you, before lowering himself down to place soft kisses on your left knee. “Don’t be mad at me,” he smirks, obviously knowing you’re not actually mad at him.

His lips graze over your legs, placing soft kisses down your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you want him. “Eds…” you lower your hand down to cup his cheek as his corse fingers ride up your thighs, pushing your dress up to reveal your panties for him.

“You’re already all wet for me, Princess,” he brushes his thumb against the edge of your panties by your right inner thigh, his other hand squeezing at the fat of your left thigh. You blush, your breath suddenly getting heavy as you breathe harder. He hooks his finger around your underwear, pulling them down your legs before dropping them into the front seat. “So pretty.” He stares down at your slit, his fingers pulling your folds open. You watch him lick his lips, making you whimper. “Eds,” he looks up at you, pupils all dilated, that lovely brown color now just black. He moves closer to you, leaving a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving one on your neck. He lowers himself down lifting your legs to be over his shoulders as he goes below your dress.

You moan as his tongue moves over your folds, lapping up around your entrance. “E-Eddie…!” You gasp as his fingers dig into your hips, creating small crescents in your fat. His tongue moves slow at first, licking stripes from your slit to your clit, before flattening over your cunt. His nose brushes into your clit and you gasp, reaching down and grabbing at his hair. “S-Shit…! Eddie…!” You moan when his tongue plunged into you, spreading you open.

He pulls his tongue away only replacing it with two fingers, thrusting them into you slowly while his mouth returns to your clit. You mewl over the sensation, your legs shaking as your thighs press against the sides of his head.

His hips start grinding into the bed of his trunk, trying to get any kind of friction he can. You grip tighter at his hair, holding him in place as you come undone on his tongue, gasping for air as your vision goes white.

Eddie pulls away from you, his fingers leaving your cunt to your annoyance. “Did…” he tries to catch his breath, “did I do good?” You laugh airily, still having your brain a bit fuzzy from the orgasm he just gave you. “Holly shit, Eds. Yes.” You reach out to him and pull him closer to you, pressing your lips to his. He kisses back eagerly, the taste of you still on his lips and chin.

“Eds, I need you,” you pull away from his lips, placing soft kisses down his neck. He groans at the attention. “Fuck… ok, I know.” He pulls away for a moment, reaching into his front seat and opening the glove compartment. He comes back into view opening a condom out of the foil. He unbuckles his jeans before pulling down his boxers. You will never get over the utter size this skinny boy is when his cock smacks against his stomach.

Eddie rolls the condom down on himself, before grabbing at your thighs and lifting your legs. Your breath hitches as he presses his tip against you. You stare up at him, reaching up and cupping his face, before pulling him closer for another sloppy kiss.

You moan as his cock pushes in you, flattening your palms against the base of his neck. You nosed brush against each other as you breathe against his lips, “fuck…” he groans, placing his hands firmly on your waist, pulling you closer, letting you bottom out on his dick. “S-shit, just sitting like this feels good.” You laugh a bit, laying your head on his shoulder as he pulls you away from the side of the van, laying you against the floor of the trunk.

You moan when he starts moving, his hips softly thrusting into you, not wanting to overpower you just yet. “Shit…” he leans over you, your legs up around his waist as his are folded by your hips, constrained by the small space. “Eddie…” you moan into his ear, making him start thrusting faster. He groans, finding your hands in his before pressing them into the pillow by your head. “Fuck… you feel so good, Sweetheart.” He moans, beginning to thrust harder.

You both gasp and moan as he thrusts into you. Before long his thrusts get sloppy, and his hands drop yours, moving down to your hips, now pushing you down against his cock. “E-Eddie…!” You grip at his shoulders, both of your bodies sweating from the vans heating and the body heat you are both creating.

“God, fuck… need you to cum again, baby, please? Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.” He moves one hand in between you both, rubbing his thumb against your clit. You gasp, feeling your orgasm get closer and closer. You whimper as he leans down and kisses you again, your stomach pressing into his. You tits and belly fat rock with his thrusts, his fingers rolling your clit as you come undone around his cock. He groans at the feeling as your pussy flutters around him, his thrusts getting harder. “Eddie…!” You gasp, your post orgasm unable to come down from the high.

Almost immediately, Eddie drops his head on your shoulder, his hair damp from his sweat as he finishes.

For a moment, you both just lay there, entangled legs and arms around each other, bodies squished in the confines of his van’s trunk. You run your fingers through your hair. “You ok there, Eds?” You ask, a small giggle leaving you. “Yeah,” he sighs, “yeah, just… Need a second.” He presses his nose into you neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin. “Not gonna lie to ya, Sweetheart, you kinda tasted like one of those milkshakes.”

Tag list

@cagethemunson @spikeybatt @cherrycolas-things

[starrybl1ss]

Enchanting secrets ✧˖°.

★senior/quidditch captain/slytherin!ellie williams x senior/gryffindor!reader ★warnings: making out lol, swearing, (smut in part 2 that is complete link below) ★inspo: so basically yk the drarry ships?? this is kinda basically it but with ellie & reader and the hogwarts!ellie headcannons ★please read! harry potter fans please don't come at me because the timeline of this fic is probably not accurate from the books and movies. and yes, i did watch the movie but im not really in the fandom that much so i did as much as researching as i could.

Hogwarts has been a big journey for you and all the wacky magical things happening. as now you are in senior year, the last year in hogwarts, after that you'll have do the N.E.W.T.s test that is known to be increadibly difficult.

Your really nervous, luckly your friend, Dina is a fellow gryffindor as well. And she's a smart student.

You really want to do well in the test. magic isn't as easy as flickering a wand in the air and boom! your a frog. Its much more complex than that. theory or practice, its hard.

Your now in the library with Dina, studying your ass off. its quite stressful with all the subjects.

Tomorrow is the quidditch match. your house versus slytherin. you can't wait to watch it. its always so much fun watching quidditch. you never really liked playing quidditch since it all looks so exhausting and dangerous, not like hogwarts is not itself. but you rather focus on your studies.

"Dina, im going back. real tired. you coming?" you ask the black haired girl. "Yeah all go back after its actually time for students to get back and sleep" she replied. "Cya" you left the library grabbing your books.

You walk all along the school corridors and went on the anoyying stairs that always move to a different place. its still quite busy. but only with all the seniors. running up and down.

You suddenly bump into someone. an auburn haired girl making you drop your book. "shit, sorry let me get them for you" she bent down to your knees grabbing the books you dropped.

The girl hands out the books back to you. "thanks... ellie?" you thank her while a bit skeptical if thats her name. "no problem" she replied and continues walking down the stairs.

You were right, Ellie williams. captain of the slytherin quidditch team. You see her a lot. she's a big deal. the some what 'anoyying' quidditch captain that always makes their team win in quidditch the past years shes been in hogwarts.

You continue walking up the stairs towards the 'fat lady' painting. You stood infront of the painting. "fibbertigibbet" you said as the painting opened and you step in.

Your basically the first senior to enter since everybody was busy studying while you cant take it anymore. you were too sleepy. so you changed in to your pyjamas and went to bed

꒰୨🔮୧꒱

Your sleep was interrupted by Dina. "wake upppp, it's already time for brekfast!" she shook your unconcious body. you quicky open your eyes and saw that it is perfectly 7.30 in the morning.

Your sleep felt so quick. "wait up, im gonna get dress" you got up and dressed up as Dina waited in the common room.

"Let's go Deen" you went outside the gryffindor house and quickly went down the stairs to the great hall where brekfast is served until around 8.

You went ahead and sat down and grabbed the food you wanted. chicken, again. your kind of obsessed with eating chicken by now.

You glaired at the slytherin table where you saw, ellie williams again. for some reason, since you two bumped to eachother on the stairs, you couldnt seem to get her of your mind.

Dina waved her hand infront of your face trying to stop you from zoning out and daydreaming too much. "who's the lucky guy your gonna take to dance after the exam?" Dina looks at you hoping you already have a guy to take out to the last senior prom.

"Oh uh, dunno" you slightly shook your head. "who we're you looking at anyways?" she asks curiously. "no one, just uhh.. someone that helped me grab my books when we bumped into eachother last night"

"see? i dont think thats a 'no one' after all! who is it?" she shook your shoulder excitedly. "a girl... you know? slytherin's quidditch captain?" you said nervously.

"are you kidding? ellie? you mean ellie williams? she's bad news!-" Dina said out loudly as you stopped her to make her a little more quite since there was a lot of people looking at you two.

"My god, she's so anoyying! she's our rival y/n!" she looks at you. "i knowww, but-" you stopped talking trying to think what to say next.

"but what? okay, i could quickly find you a good looking, smart, green flag gryffindor guy in a minute! it'll be easy, almost every gryffindor wants you. not to meantion, a lot of other boys from other houses would want you"

"i'll just worry about it later, whats the point of having a 'guy' that wants you but you don't want them anyways?"

꒰୨🔮୧꒱

You couln't focus the whole time in potions. you kept having your eyes on ellie making it difficult. you exited the class and went towards the bathroom to wash your face.

You went inside hearing someone crying and ofcourse it is moaning myrtle. the ghost who haunts the girls bathroom.

You saw another girl infront of the sink. you got closer and it was ellie. god, you meet her everywhere. you went to the sink next to her as you turned on the faucet.

Ellie looks at you "hey, never really catched your name last night" slightly tilting her head. "I- im- uh, y/n" you introduced yourself.

"nice meeting you"

"y-you too!" you said nervously.

"whats your next class y/n?" god, she said your name making you blush a little. suprised that she brought up a conversation. "defence againts the dark arts" you replied.

She looks at you while not sayying a thing. just admiring your face making your heart skip a beat. you couldn't handle the tension anymore.

"i should get to clas-" you stepped a bit further from her but she grabbed your left arm. "the teacher wouldn't mind you being late right?" she said teasingly.

"y-yeah he wouldn't min-" suddenly ellie pulls you in a kiss. fuck, you didn't know this would happen so quickly. you kissed her back. her hands on your waist.

"c-can we a go somewhere a little more private? Just incase...-" ellie grabs you and puts you two in one of the stalls locking the door from behind.

She pins you to the door and started giving you hickeys on your neck with you letting out choked up moans as she lifts up your sweater.

You hear someone sniffing, moaning myrtle. "Looks like things are getting a little too spicy in here. you stupid kids forgot i haunt this place? Jeez, get out!"

Shit, you totally forgot about her being her- fuck! Your missing out on professor lupin's class!

"El- ellie im missing class i should go-" you push her back a little. "See you after the match?" You nod as you went outside the stall

You ran around the corridor. 14 minutes late into proffesor lupin's class. luckly it was him teaching so he didn't make a fuss about you being late and you just said you were in the bathroom constapated as hell and he led that slide without you telling him you hooked up with the slytherin quidditch captain.

"were you that constipated? your lucky proffesor lupin isn't absent or you'd be in hell!" Dina did made a fuss about it.

You rolled your eyes and continued writing in your notebook.

꒰୨🔮୧꒱

This evening the weather is perfect. Not too hot, a bit cloudy but no sign of rain. The quidditch match had begun 15 minutes ago.

Slytherin are currently in the lead. Brooms going back and forth in lightning speed.

You could care less about the match, you were drunk in love admiring ellie on her broomstick. She was your house biggest rival!

Your mouth accidently slipped "Go ell-!" Dina looks at you confused. "Shes our rival! Snap out of it!" You stayed silent gazing at ellie like your some dumb 12 year old thats so drunkly inlove.

꒰୨🔮୧꒱

The match has ended with slytherin, again. everybody went back inside the school corridor as the slytherin kids all cheered for ellie and her team.

you were completely starstruck by her. shes so... mesmorizing its driving you insane.

suddenly you felt someones arm touching yours in the crowd. you looked at your left to see... ew! its that icky popular gryffindor guy that cant seem to get your hands off you.

"hey, i was wondering if you'd want to come to the dance with m-" you cut off his words. "sorry, fully booked" you tilt your head with a smug face.

You were lying, theres been a lot of guys asking you but you just rejected all of them.

You walked away from him without looking back. as the corridor got a little less hectic, ellie approaches you. "hey, about that..." she stopped. "would you go to the yule ball with me after the exam? any chance? you already got someone... dont you?"

You giggled "i don't, ellie" you smile. she smiled back at you and pulled you in for a kiss infront of people including dina.

꒰୨🔮୧꒱

★read please!

HIIII soooo its donee, sorry if i misspelt stuff. ik the pole i did alotta people voted for smut but i wanted this one to be clean???? so if you want to read the next part (that has smut) you can read it here!

lmk if you wanna see the yule ball part after the n.e.w.t.s!

[createdbytragedy]

IN THE END,BOTH OF US WE'RE BLIND, 'CAUSE YOU NEVER SAW ME AND I NEVER SAW ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: I think I made Beomgyu a bit too madly in love here, poor attempt at writing an angst, shitty grammar, not proofread and may contain misspelling

Synopsis: In all those years of being together, you never saw Beomgyu and he never saw anyone else but you

"What if I find someone new but still fall asleep to the thought of you?"

You had a special bond with Beomgyu. At least, used to. He remembered the first day he met you as the little girl in white dress. And you remembered him as the kind boy next door who later became your best friend.

Your childhood pictures included Beomgyu in almost everyone of them and if someone told you to share an incident of your childhood, it was impossible to share one with no Beomgyu in it. You were that close. All your childhood spent beside each other, either you in his house, eating the delicious sweets made by his mother or playing video games with his brother or him in your house, letting you put bows in his head and making him babysit your dolls.

You entered elementary school together while still clinging to each other's side. Both of you didn't leave any space for anyone else to enter your magical friendship.

Then came middle school, where both of your friend groups grow larger and more varied. You find new friends and so did Beomgyu but you still claimed each other as your best friend and preferred to walk home with just the two of you. The concept of crush was introduced and it would be a big, fat lie to say Beomgyu didn't have a crush on you. His friends would tease him whenever they caught him staring at you from across the classroom, talking to your girlies. You would smile and wave at him when you noticed him and he'd blush while his friends made cringey faces.

Typical childhood crush, you know.

Middle school end and came high school. Everything changed. For you, at least. When you started seeing more of the world and seeing other people, all Beomgyu saw was you.

You in your high school skirt, laughing with your friends as you walked past him. You weren't as close anymore, That was something he had to admit. Both of your interest were different which separates you. You grew interest in arts and fashion while his passion revolves around being a singer, which means most of your class were different. Your bodies changed, with you growing more curves that sure turned heads in the hallways. The long conversations turned into small talks before school until one of your girls would pull you away. You weren't as much regular in his house anymore. Always on a friend's house for a girl's night or some project. But he can't help the way his heart skip a beat whenever you smiled at him from the window of your house that overlooked his. The one thing that didn't change about you was your smile and your personality. Both of them remained as cheerful and sincere.

All he saw was you even when multiple girls asked him out for prom that year. Declining politely in hope that you would turn around to look at him again and just maybe be the one he goes to the anticipated prom with.

But you never did. You never saw him. Not that year. Not ever. Not when there was already a boy wrapping his arms around your waist as you looked at him with love and adoration. The look Beomgyu craves. Beomgyu skipped the first prom of his life that year. Curling in his room and playing video games.

He could only imagine you, with him, looking into each other's eyes as you slowed dance, shy smiles being exchanged. He wanted that to be him. Be the one who picked you up in your satin white gown, take your hand and place a kiss and watch the light blush appear on your face? Why can't you see him?

He closed the curtain, trying to ignore the sharp pain panging in his chest. But he can't get you out of his head.

All he saw was you even after the prom, the whole school buzzing with the aftermath of the spectacular night and the news of your new relationship with the boy. He remembered the immense pain starting to grow as you walked in hand in hand with a guy who didn't know how you liked to take your coffee. And once again, you walked past him.

You never saw him.

Oh, but how could he ever not fall for you when you give him a kind of smile that made his heart do summersaults and swarm of butterflies erupt in his stomach? How could he ever get over you when you always asked about his day when you happen to meet each other at the front door, both coming home from your day's activity with the orange tint of the setting sun illuminating your features as the summer breeze blew your hair in all direction while you smiled at him which makes him feel just a little bit too much emotions to control?

Like he could be the one to walk you home everyday like he used to.

Beomgyu was in love with you in ways that boy will never know. And that's why he was ready to give you up. Because he valued your happiness over his own. And you looked so happy holding hands and smiling and looking at him like he was your everything.

He can't have you. That's why he wanted to avoid you. Avoid seeing you with your so called lover, to be accurate. You had no idea about the clench in his heart and the desire to be the one running through his veins whenever he sees you both.

He tried to stay content with what you had. You looked happy and honestly, he was too. But the thought of you never left his mind at night. How he could be happier with you. Make you happier. But, he would never say that. He only returned smiles shot his way and satisfied himself with the small talks between classes. He liked to think that there was no one waiting for you when he talked to you. Like he still had a chance and you're heart wasn't already given to someone who didn't value it. But all his daydream won't last long when reality came crashing back in the form of a highschool teenage boy.

He needed to get his mind away from you, he needed to get a grip. But he decided to let you keep his heart. He lets you be the reason he was excited to go school. He let you make him smile and make him laugh and he let you break his heart million times but he still loved you. Though from afar and in the sidelines. He patiently waited for you in hopes that maybe you will see him. Standing right there and realizing that he's all you ever wanted. Like you were all he's ever wanted.

God, one sided love sucks, right?

His passion (other than you) would be his dream. To be a singer. And it was no surprise that he was over the moon when he got accepted in his favorite company as a trainee. He remembered jumping up and down with joy when he got the email. The news travelled fast enough thanks to Beomgyu's motor mouth and it was insane how hypocritic his classmates were. The usually discourteous boys who didn't give a damn about him were suddenly asking him to sit with him for lunch and others from the class who he didn't really have a good blood with were suddenly interested in his well being. And oh, Beomgyu was no idiot. He knew the guys were just trying to include themselves in his soon to be stardom but he would be lying if he said he didn't love the attention. He always did.

The only one who wasn't kissing his ass and buttering him up was you. And maybe the fact just made him miss you a little bit more. Amidst all affection and attention, he was missing yours.

So, he checked his watch and then went out the front door of his house, hides in the bushes for a few minutes until he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Hi, Beomgyu," he pretends to get startled by your voice as he twisted the door knob of his home ," Heard the news, congratulations!"

Your face was radiating by the sunlight just the way he likes it and he can't help the smile that etched onto his face , " You did? Word sure travels fast huh? I only told my friends about it and now the whole school knows. "

Your laughed ringed in his head minutes after you entered the door ," It sure does. I'm really happy for you. You sure got the looks and talent to be an idol. I'll be looking forward to seeing you on the screen. Good night, neighbor. " And with that, the door shuts behind you.

Neighbor, huh. So that was all Beomgyu was to you.

Maybe that's what made him work harder to be something more than a neighbor to you.

And maybe that's why he was determined to get selected.

And maybe that's why he got selected.

And maybe, just maybe, he was still as in love with you as he was 5 years ago.

And maybe that's why he never saw anyone else more beautiful than you in all those world tours, concerts, fan meets, and all over the country.

He only had eyes for you.

It may seem he may have forgotten such an insignificant person to you but you were on his mind every single night. Praying that you've broken up with your high school sweetheart.

And he was still praying on his way to Daegu for the holiday. His mother have told him about you coming back from abroad after finishing your course. He hadn't been able to see you on any of his visit to his home town since you also went to study abroad for your passion. He was ecstatic to meet you again after so many years.

His heart was beating fast the whole way, butterflies erupting and his mind filled with thoughts of what could happen. What he wanted to happen. He wondered if your smile still looked like the twinkle of stars in a moonless night and if your eyes still held the same amount of mystery and love as it did. Whatever may have changed of you, he knew one thing for sure that his feelings for you certainly didn't changed.

He reached his home, greeted his family, let the nostalgia of his childhood flood in his head, changed into comfy sweatpants and then stared at the window which overlooked your house. He looked at his phone then at the window. Phone, window, phone, window, phone, window.

And there you were. Walking down the road with a blue floral dress, writhing along your body and hugging your curves just right. Your hair looked longer since the last time he saw you. And the setting sun illuminates your face just the way he remembers it. His phone fell to the floor, long forgotten as he got up in a rush and reached for the door.

You stood in front of your door, like you always used to. And he looked at you and smiled before it falter off.

"Oh, hey, Beomgyu!! I didn't know you were in Daegu!! " you sounded happy, a wide smile stretching over your lips but all he could see was how your hand entangled with the man, standing next to you. So close that when the summer breeze blew your hair, it touched his face and fan over it.

"Hi......" his said, waving weakly as his eyes scanned over the space between both of your heads.

"Jagi, you know Beomgyu from TXT, right?" your words felt like a blunt knife jabbed into his heart ,"We used to go to the same school and we've been neighbors since childhood. Isn't that so privilege?"

A different guy but there's nothing new. The same old face that looked like they want something from you. That looked at you like you were just what your face showed. Like you were nothing more than a human with pretty face.

"Its so good to see you. Big star now, are we? I really enjoy listening to your music and I am really, really proud of you! feels good to brag to everyone I went to school with the one and only Beomgyu," your voice sounded so far when the only thing separating you both was the short wooden fence. He nodded, forcing a smile and trying not to let his eyes wander to your joined hands.

"Its good to be back in town. You've got a new friend there, huh? already replacing me?" he was in no mood for teasing but he decided to ignore the burning ache in his heart in hope that he'll get to hear your laugh.

"Oh, no," and you did. Eyes scrunching up into crescent as the heavenly sound slipped past your lips ," This is Yujin, my boyfriend of 3 years. We met at the uni." you said, proudly slinging an arm around the said male's waist. He smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead which made you giggle.

He clenched his fist, opened it then tap his index finger against his thigh, nodding his head like the scene wasn't so painful to watch for him.

"I'll see you around then. Good to have a star next door. " you said with a wink before disappearing inside with your boyfriend of 3 years.

Beomgyu stood there, frozen.

After 5 years, after being one of the most successful kpop idol, still, you didn't see him.

Never did.

His throat felt numb and he could feel a sensation he hasn't felt for so long. His heart pounded in his chest, heaving and shattered. The warm breeze blew his hair and he bites his lips as the echo of your laughter filled the silent lawn.

"Beomgyu, what would you like for din- oh my, darling, what happened?!" Beomgyu's mom asked as she saw Beomgyu come in through the door, lips trembling and crystal dew dropping from his eyes. Beomgyu sniffled and shook his head, unable to form words as his mother took him into her embrace.

He break down fully, full on sobbing and crying onto her shoulder ,"Eomma!! " he snivel as his mother run her hand up and down his back, trying to soothe the 23 year old like he was 3.

"My goodness, what happened, Beomgyu? " His mother asked trying to calm his son down ," why are you crying?!"

Beomgyu pulled out from the hug, sniffing and wiping his tears from the sleeves of his shirt and shook his head, smiling at his mother through the tears that blurred his vision.

"I just realised something," he said. His mother raised her brow in confusion, what on earth could be the realisation that made him cry out like he was still 3?

"Realised what?" She could see the sadness in her son's eyes. The flood of new tears collecting in his eyes once again.

"What happened, Beomgyu?" She asked, a bit more sternly this time as she cupped his face in her hands. Beomgyu smiled as more tears spilled down his cheeks. He couldn't even see anymore. Just breaking down because god, it hurts. It was suppose to just a little crush. Just a one sided love. How did you go from being his childhood best friend to a friend who no longer had long talks in the night and sneak out to eat snacks after midnight to a woman he so desired but can't have? "That, in the end, we were both blind," he choked, grabbing onto her arms. The scenario of your first crush in middle school flashed across his mind then your first boyfriend in high school now your current boyfriend with his hands around your waist. Why couldn't that be him? Your first crush. Your prom date. Your first boyfriend. And the one to be laughing with you on a hot and breezy summer evening? Can't you see him? See that he was the one all along. The one who bought you chocolates and candies when you were sad, the one who gave you his jacket and comforted you when you had your first period in school, the one who gives you piggyback ride on your way home from school, the one who would smile at you and cherish every moment of your presence even when you weren't as close anymore. Would anyone else do the things he'd do for you? would he love you like he loves you? Even after being a idol, having all the things anyone could desire, the money, the fame, the looks but you still didn't see him. You looked happier, you do. With him. "'Cause she never saw me and I never saw anyone else but her," you voice ringed inside his head, calling him, hugging him, embracing in each other's warmth. All he ever wanted. "Aigoo, Beomgyu - ah, is it (y/n)?" his mother asked, pulling him back into her embrace. And Beomgyu lets her. Burying his tears and pain on her shoulders. He knew in his heart that there is someone else who deserves you but, he was still in love with you. Still wanted to be one. Its crazy cause you were never his but how does it break him so much to know that he lost you? "Its okay, baby. Don't cry...... maybe, she wasn't the one for you," she comforted, patting his hair while the dinner was long forgotten. Thank god mothers don't find other boyfriend........ "You'll find someone better. Prettier. Someone who loves you the way you loved her. Maybe more. You know its alright. I know it hurts but its gonna be okay. She was just not the one and its not yours or her fault. So stop crying, you'll find someone new........." Would he? It has been 5 years though and he was still yearning for your touch. Hoping that maybe you'll open your eyes and see that he's been here all along. But, He guess not. Sniffing and wiping his red eyes, he asked his mother with trembling voice, " What if I did find someone knew, but still fall asleep to the thought of her?" "I'm scared..."

[agaypanic]

i was watching the chapter of "cynthia's back" and i would like to ask for an image with the same theme. only this time reader (fem!reader) is reese's girlfriend and she is insecure about her breasts. and reese consoles her somehow, nothing nsfw, rather sfw!!! please and thank you. 🫶🫶

Who Says (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Reese tries convincing you that you shouldn’t pay your insecurities any mind.

A/N: Bc of the similar theme to the episode, reader has bigger breasts, but other than that her body isn’t really described. Also fic is titled after that Selena Gomez song bc sometimes titles are hard

***

You were already having a shitty day. You slept in late so you had to run to school, had a surprise pop quiz in the class you hated the most, grouped with the worst people for a project in your favorite class, and the lunch was horrible. Like, you wouldn’t be surprised if you got food poisoning from it. You just wanted to go home and nap off your bad mood, but when school let out, your boyfriend Reese reminded you that you two had agreed to go shopping for prom. You wanted to reschedule but knew that if you did, you’d never get around to it, especially with Reese’s tendency to get grounded and pull crazy schemes.

When you got to the mall, you ran into a bigger problem.

“God, why can’t you just zip?” You grumbled to yourself. This was the fifth dress you’ve tried on, and none of them fit, even though they were your size. Puberty had cursed you with big boobs, and although you usually were okay with them, they made clothes shopping a pain in the ass. “Please, I’m fucking begging for you to just zip.”

“Everything okay, Y/n?” Reese asked on the other side of the door. The question just made you more frustrated because everything wasn’t okay. You flung open the door, yanked Reese inside, and slammed the door shut. “Y/n, I don’t think we’re allowed to fool around in public.”

“Shut up, Reese.” You laughed weakly, the stupid joking lifting your mood slightly. You started unzipping your dress. “Nothing’s fitting.”

“Do you need me to get a bigger size?” He caught your sad look and panicked. “Not that your fat. I’m not saying that; I don’t mean that.”

“No, it’s not that, Reese.” You let the dress pool on the floor and threw on your sweater, oversized enough to hide what you were currently having a problem with without drowning you in fabric. “It’s no use. I might as well show up to prom in a burlap sack.”

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Everything! If I get a dress that fits me, it doesn’t fit my boobs. If I get a dress that fits my boobs, it’s too big for my body. There’s no middle!” You turned to stare at yourself in the mirror, feeling hopeless. 

Reese looked at you through the mirror’s reflection. Comforting people wasn’t exactly his expertise; it was more the opposite. He was usually the reason people needed comfort. But he had to at least try. Hesitantly, he rested a hand lightly on your hip. When you seemed okay with his touch, he pulled you until your back was to his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, now making eye contact through the mirror.

“It’ll be okay.” That seemed like a good start, but you didn’t look so convinced. “You have time to figure it out; prom’s in like two months anyway.”

“But that’s not enough time to get rid of… these.” You gestured to your chest defeatedly.

“Who said you had to get rid of them?”

“I feel like a freak.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Reese’s hands slithered to wrap around you. “Look, I’m not gonna lie. I think it’s hot that you have big boobs.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “But that’s not the only thing about you I like. I’d list them, but we’d get kicked out from how long we’d be in here. The point is, you’ll have the time to figure it all out. Don’t stress it. You could show up in a burlap sack and still be the prettiest girl there.”

You nodded, taking in the words. Reese was right, you supposed. It’s not like you needed the dress tomorrow. But you wanted to be like the other girls who get their dress in advance so they could hang it up on their door and count down the days until the special event to wear it.

“Now, here’s what we’re gonna do; let me know what you think. You put your pants on, we put all this shit back on the racks and go to Auntie Anne’s. I want a pretzel.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“That sounds like a good plan.” You turned your head to meet Reese’s lips, kissing him sweetly before pulling away to finish getting dressed.

[iwantoseemybonesss]

Ana playlist

Orange juice-melanie martinez

Prom queen-beach bunny

Motion sickness-Phoebe Bridgers

The perfect girl-mareux

Prom dress-mxmtoon

Seasonal depression-mxmtoon

Smaller than this-sara kays

Oh ana-mother mother

Ugly-nicole dollanganger

Skinny love-birdy

Tired-beabadoobee

Pain killer- beach bunny

Bubble gum-clairo

I need to be alone-girl in red

Romantic homicide-d4vd

Blow my brains out-tikkle me

Fat funny friend-maddie zahm

I'm not hungry-skela

Diet coke-leanna firestone

God must hate me-catie turner

Body-jordan suaste

Body fat percentage-we three

House with no mirrors-sasha alex sloan

Chosen last-sara kays

Math-sara kays

You might not like her-maddie zahm

If the post gets a good response I'll make a part 2

[moomiewoomie]

hi my ana angels, want to read my story on how ana found me? read here .•*

It was 2020, peak lock down. I had just been diagnosed with covid-19, i spent my week of confinement cleaning my room and watching dhar mann. after binge watching all of his videos i landed on one in particular, one that caught my attention. the episode was about a girl teaching another girl how to have an ed so she could fit into her prom dress. in one scene one girl showed another in detail how to purge.

that had caught my attention, i decided that I wanted to lose a little weight by using a new found technique. it took me two weeks to purge more than a little spit, i remember that day vividly. I had snuck out of class, stuck my fingers down my throat… and purged.

for the next four months I purged everything, it was a deadly addiction. I purged in bags, toilets, showers and sinks. I made the mistake of telling one of my friends about my purging who then told a teacher. my dad found out and put me into a hospital ed program.

it wasn’t long until I was in hospital, it was a short stay only a week and a half before I was shipped back home and called ‘cured’. I did everything I could to be let out of hospital, I stuffed my face with high carb foods and resisted the urge to purge or exercise. they where very eager to get ride of me, probably so they could help a sicker… thinner girl.

once I got home I actually recovered for a few months, ana had pulled her claws out of my back. there’s not much I can say about my time recovered, I was a fat pig, I had no self control and ate away all my feelings and doubts. I had gained back all of my lost weight, I had fat thighs and pudge arms, so gross.

though in march of 2023 ana found me once more, and this time she wasn’t going to let me go. I saw a ‘wieiad’ video of a girl with boney wrists and a low calorie intake. it made me relapse almost immediately. I was back to running laps around school, restricting and being thin. I was obsessed with having thin arms like that girl, it consumed me completely.

it still consumes me.

[a-spacecadet]

~My thoughts on JFK’s character assassination from S2~ 

Okay finally writing this all out!

(Sorry, these are all the negative things I have to say, my positive impressions will have to be another post) 

First off, I really love jfk, in both seasons. Are they the same guy? Not really. One person on here on Tumblr made the comment that s2 jfk is the jfk in the mirror. Headcanon accepted! XD

So, why is he out of character in the 2nd season? First off, he’s a genuinely nice guy, which is waaaaayyy different than how he acted in s1, even at the end. He definitely had some growth and development in s1, but even in the last ep he was still punching other dudes, had 5 different girls as his prom dates, and made jokes of his rival Abe (although at this point it was a bit justified, but anyways…) All in all, he’s not a bad person per-se, but he’s definitely still a 16-year-old teenager. 

So in s2, after what is only ONE NIGHT OF SLEEP for him, his personality has a huge change. He doesn’t bully other boys (like Confucius, a social-media obsessed teen with a weird sense of fashion), he’s loyal and loving to ONE girlfriend (never had the first show really established that he loved Joan in that way), he’s no longer antagonistic, and is rather quieter and less crude. (I say less crude because although he still makes sex jokes, other students are shown that they DO find them funny and his jokes tend to not be misogynist like they were in s1). 

I actually like that jfk has changed and become a better person, I think that’s great, he’s maturing! But when? When does this happen? When he slept overnight in the meat locker? Nothing indicates that he would have a reason to change. (Some argue his love for Joan, but again, this seemingly came out of the blue).  Speaking of his love for Joan, I’ve seen some great fanfics add context to s1 in how he really was in love with her, but the show itself really doesn’t indicate this at all. 

*Side tangent to expound on this!* Did he have crush on John Darc (really Joan)? Yeah, but really for no other reason than his boyish instinct (or Kennedy sense as he calls it lol) detected a hot girl!! He liked John Darc because he’s attracted to hot women, not Joan specifically. Also, he doesn’t seem to follow up his crush with her after the episode because I really don’t think he was interested in her other than the fact that she’s a pretty lady. Of course, I think this comes back full circle when we get to the finale, when Joan believes she has to dress up like a slut in order to be considered pretty… which is why jfk says he likes her when she’s just being herself. Because he knows she’s been “a knock-out Betty” this whole time, unlike that “chowder-head Lincoln.” However, not being dense like good ol’ Abe to realize Joan is stunning as she is… doesn’t quite equal the “love of his life.” OF COURSE he likes her, because she’s a babe! But her being a babe doesn’t indicate that he’d suddenly have a massive character change to be dedicated and loyal to her!! *Side tangent over*

Specific changes that I noticed that were off: 

“I like boobies and butts! Any shape or uh, size.” No, no he doesn’t. Why would his opinion from s1 (“You know my policy, no fatties!”) Suddenly change? Ofc I’m glad he’s no longer fat-phobic, but why?

“Your fourth string kicker won’t let you down!” What? What happened to being captain of the football team? “El capitan of the futbol team?” Winning the track meets? Being overall a competent athlete? 

“I let all my male friendships fade away!” Okay, this one is tricky. JFK really did lose Ponce, and he did in fact end up losing Gandhi even if he wasn’t aware of it. HOWEVER, s1 suggested he was one of the popular kids at school, you’re telling me he had no other friends? Like, not even Julius Cesar who was very often seen with him? Also, s2 does not even mention Ponce (unfortunately) which may have been used as a very good excuse for jfk to be so upset. (Right now, JFK’s tears in s2 ep 2 from missing Ponce only exist in headcanon).

“I’m afraid Joan is the love of my life and I’m not good enough for her!” See my side tangent, but also, why is he suddenly so insecure? One of his traits in s1 was his confident swag.

“Woah, I’ve never had anyone turn me down before…but that’s okay!” I mean, not usually, if he wasn’t asking FREAKING JOAN. The same Joan that was known for kicking, hitting, smacking, and punching him for every little advance he made towards her. He should know better at this point? Even if he did successfully sleep with her, I can’t imagine he’d really be that surprised she told him no, or as she said in the show “let me think about it.” 

His crying. He cries SO much in s2. But didn’t he cry in s1 as well? I can hear you asking. Yes, but he cried specifically in ep 10 because HIS BEST FRIEND TRAGICALLY AND SUDDENLY DIED.  Also, the reason the “Litter” ep is so funny is because up until that point we’ve never seen jfk so upset and distraught before, he’s genuinely weeping and mourning and we’ve NEVER seen this side of him, nor will we again. But in s2, he cries about everything! He’s literally the depressed loser crying in the freaking bathroom cause he “has no friends”! I guess I wouldn’t have minded as much if it didn’t literally make him look like a crybaby. Even in s1 he cried a bit at the notion of losing Cleo, but he wasn’t known for that. 

“Your lips are like a fine chalice of…uuuuhhh, wEt sTUfF!!” Heatstroke jfk was pretty funny, but it also highlighted another change. He’s freaking STUPID in s2. I’m not saying he was particularly “smart” in s1, but he definitely wasn’t the dumb “hurr durr” kinda idiot he is in s2. The one time I think jfk came across as actually dumb in s1 is when he thought Ponce was a genie, but tbh that was more sad than him being just plain dumb. Other things like talking to his reflection or his weird accent were more like quirks, not indicating that’s he stupid. He aced his PXJT test for crying out loud! (“Did you see me on that test Cleo? I smoked it! I can’t wait to see my time.”)

Wanting to be like his clone father. Back to his accent, I genuinely believe he is trying to do an impression (albeit bad) of the real JFK, he’s not talking like that because he has an actual speech impediment. Also, being faithful to Joan also doesn’t work on another sense because he thinks the real JFK was “a macho womanizing stud who conquered the moon!” and I think clone jfk was trying to live up to his legacy by being a womanizer, something not seen at all in s2.

“Woah a little spaceship! I’m gonna go chase it!” Another thing that bothered me is that he really does act like a golden retriever in s2. He’s been reduced to nothing more than a cute puppy dog, a plot device for Joan, a wholesome himbo who’s dumb but well-meaning, and overall BORING.

The only thing on his mind is sex. Like, really? Literally everything that comes out of his mouth in s2 has something to do with sex, much to Joan’s annoyance and part of the reason she broke up with him. S2 tries to make it seem that jfk is very shallow and has no hobbies or interests, but that is NOT TRUE! He loves sports, watching (“But you usually watch SportsCenter up in your room baby” - Wally) and playing them, he cares about his appearance and knows a bit about fashion (hey, his efforts to help Gandhi resulted in the dude becoming instantly popular), he records his own music! HE SINGS AND HAS HIS OWN STUDIO! He likes cool cars and drag racing! He likes throwing parties!! There’s more to his character than just sex!! 

Okay, that’s most of it. 

Of course, I will also mention the obvious (that others have already pointed out) he went from genuinely hilarious to slightly obnoxious and annoying.

TLDR: he’s turned from a macho womanizing stud, a confident chad, a jerk with soft side, a man of swag and style, to…an insecure crybaby, a boring “nice guy” who’s also a huge idiot.

To end, I still love JFK, even in s2. I appreciate the cute moments he has, and ignoring lack of time for character development I like that he’s trying to be a better person and that’s he’s matured. I could talk about all the things I did like about him in s2, but that will have to wait another day haha. 

[my-shields-are-down]

Divorce (for the one word fic prompt)

While outside tending to Lucy’s tomato plants. Tim hears the baby monitor squawk to life.

His youngest kid is now a teenager, but because he’s in the back back corner of the yard, the monitor keeps him tapped into whether his love is home, if Lucy is home, he wants to be with her. Always.

“It’s PROM Mom,”. Tim hears his daughter exasperatingly whine to Lucy in frustration. Tim immediately places his garden shears, hat and knee-pads in the wheelbarrel beside him and picks up the basket holding the harvested fruits and veggies to bring inside. “Why do all the dresses make me look fat and matronly or boobilicious and slutty? I just want something simple, that I feel great in that breaks his brain… like how Daddy is when he sees you all dressed up.”

Tim scoffs out loud as he enters the downstairs sliding screen door. “Pffff. My brain doesn’t break when I …..” His breath stutters and his mind drops into a tank of dopamine when he sees Lucy in her wedding dress in the candid photo of their wedding party hanging in the back stairway landing by the kitchen.

Lucy had heard Tim moving through the house and suddenly pausing, so she grins at her daughter and places her finger across her lips for silence as they both look around the corner and see the man of the house smiling dopily at the photo, his free hand tracing Lucy’s laughing face.

They lean back into the kitchen as 17 year old Diana whispers, “Exactly like that, Mom.” Diana then grabs a pear from the fruit bowl and the cheese and crackers her mom hands to her. She then sits down before laying down on the blue + white striped seat cushion on the long side of their kitchen table.

“I know we are only going as friends Mom, but it’s Mateo! He’s so handsome, I think I’ve loved him since I was little and I want him to finally FINALLY kiss me on the dance floor. So I need to be beautiful, Mom.”

“But what if he doesn’t think I am beautiful? What if he doesn’t like me back?” Diana cries, tears streaming down her face.

“Sweetie, please eat your snacks.” Lucy says as she places a large tumbler of ice water on the table.

Diana’s sniffles instantly snap Tim out of his reverie, and he strides into the kitchen and winks at Lucy before leaning down over his daughter and kissing her on the forehead and saying. “Then he’s an idiot, and I’ll apologize to Angela and Wesley after I murder their second son for making you cry.”

Diana stands up and hugs her dad. Like her mom before her, she always feels safe and loved when she’s hugging him. Just clings to him and cries. “Did it hurt this much?”

“Did what hurt this much, sweetie?” Tim hugs his baby girl so her head rests on his heart. Diana is 4-5” taller than her mom so he doesn’t have to pull her onto his lap for her to get there.

“Did it hurt this much when you loved mom and you didn’t know if she loved you back?”

Their kids had never been into fairy tales - they so much more preferred the real life stories of how their parents and aunts and uncles got together, including Tim and Lucy pining for each other while dating other people.

Tim looked over at his bride of 20+ years, whose eyes sparkled with love and mischief, and said, “oh I don’t like to remember that, but yes baby girl. Loving your mom in secret, tore a hole right through me. Until I asked her to dinner and she said yes.”

“That’s right… you GOT the girl.”

“I did. I got the girl.” Tim smiles softly at Lucy. “Then 5 years later, I got YOU. My most beautiful creature. ARRRRRGH!” Tim’s long hands shaped like claws reached his daughter’s sides to tickle her - her laughter being one of his most favorite sounds.

Tim had called Diana a creature one morning when she was about 5 months old and his fake growl sent her into a fit of giggles. Then once he added the tickling, her laughter really started taking shape and he did it all the time before she became mobile. Later he’d chase her making grunting growling noises and she’d ask him who his favorite creature is.

For Diana, she adored that she had such a special thing with her Dad. She remembers him asking about her creature hands and feet, discussing why she had no tail, Kai dragging her around the kitchen by the foot of her full-body pjs every Christmas calling her his “Christmas creature.” But most importantly, she was his favorite creature. Not a favorite kid- she let her brothers duke that out themselves. This was all hers.

—————

Later that evening, Diana was going through her closet trying on dresses, hoping for inspiration but struggling, she was more of a tomboy - despite wearing her cheerleader outfit often at school. What? She and Patrizia-still best friends - thought every sport deserved to have cheerleaders at their home games. So they spent almost every afternoon cheering at some team event that didn’t have its own cheer squad. Well, but not the chess team she remembered. She and Patrizia were escorted out because they were too loud. Who does quiet cheering?

She studied herself in the bathroom mirror she shared with her older brother Kai. He is off at UCLA being cool and loving life, so she had all the space to herself. She stripped down to her bra and panties and looked at herself. Strong body and killer legs from cheering and running, 5’ 7” tall, sun-kissed, honey-tinted skin. She mostly took after her dad with a slender frame, thick golden blonde hair which streaked red when she got too much sun.

She had her mom’s boobs and eyes - big, expressive amber colored, long long natural lashes, the same Asian shape that ran back centuries according to her Zengzumu.. (Great grandmother). She thought she was pretty, in an All-American kind of way. She didn’t feel bad or insecure, she just never considered she might be lovely to look at as well as lovely to be with.

On the verge of adulthood, what everyone else saw (except maybe her dad who always saw her at 2 when she thought he hung the moon), was a fantastically gorgeous girl about to step into her knockout phase. Stunningly beautiful, kind, moody, stubborn, thoughtful and hilarious. She was the total package. Dad was about to have a wake up call.

Diana threw her hair on top of her head and put on her brother’s UCLA sweatshirt, and leggings. She moved to her desk and started sketching out the kind of dress she thought would compliment her figure.

*Knock. Knock.” Diana turned towards her bedroom door and saw her mom smiling at her. “Come with me, I have an idea.”

Diana walked slightly behind her mom, silently comparing herself to Lucy. To Diana, her mom was the most beautiful person in the world. Diana had multiple phenomenal female role models, but none compared to her Mom. Her mom was short, curvaceous, same eyes, thick wavy chestnut hair - just gorgeous . Next to her, Diana often felt faded, stretched, and bland. Despite her petite size, Diana felt Lucy cast a large shadow.

Lucy led Diana into her and Tim’s bedroom suite. Since they remodeled, the kids had not spent hours here like they did when they were small. The master bedroom had a King sized poster bed, a sitting area by the fireplace- the walls covered with masterpieces from each of their kids and a larger family portrait hanging on the far wall. A private/soundproofed tv/make out room off to the side with comfy sofas, a drink fridge with a thumbprint scanner to open and access the beer and ice cold tequila inside. Kai had learned the hard way that multiple incorrect scans would result in a flour bomb exploding in his face.

There were skylights in the master bathroom over the teak soaking tub, a wall of stacked slate and dragon water faucets. (The kids’ contribution to the room).

Lastly, the heart of the space was a large walk-in closet, with rows of hangars, shelves for their shoes, two large mirrors situated above two sets of drawers and one floor to ceiling mirror. At one end of the closet hung a family photo of them when TJ was still inside Lucy and Diana and her brother were 4 and 6. Every other blank space on the walls was covered with pictures of the kids.

Diana hadn’t been in here in forever and marveled at how neat it was, how there were pictures she hadn’t seen, how a top drawer in her mom’s built-in bureau created for socks or panties, actually only contained dog treats and chew toys. Lucy moved to one end of Tim’s section of the closet, shoving her Dad’s shirts to the side and to reveal a door.

Diana didn’t remember a door ever being there. Lucy smiled at her daughter and opened the door, revealing a secret room. A closet within a closet. A Narnia room!

They both stepped through and Lucy hit the lights revealing racks of fancy clothes. She saw her dad’s tuxedo and dress uniform he wore for weddings and funerals. Then she saw that everything else was her mom’s dresses.

Flashes of memories of her fairy tale parents leaving for some event flit through her mind. “Wow! Mom, you could make a fortune renting these out to my friends!”

Lucy shuddered at the idea and grabbed Diana’s hand, saying, “all of these dresses have special meaning to your dad and I, but they don’t really fit me any longer. So, we’ll both go through them and pick 5 giving you 10 options for you to try on for me, your dad and TJ. The ones we like stay and the ones we don’t go. When we get to a final 3 - you can choose which one you’ll wear. You can do whatever you want to it, Aunt Amy’s cousin is a tailor who can make whatever adjustments and enhancements you need, ok?”

“Yes, ok. Thank you mom. Let’s do this!”

Twenty minutes later, ten dresses hang in Lucy and Tim’s closet.

The first one got an immediate veto from her dad.

Diana had asked TJ to come help her with the zipper and jewelry as she tried the floral dress on. She marveled at how covered up she was while being incredibly sexy. TJ shook his head and said “I thought you were avoiding being boobilicious? Cuz you are in that dress.”

She looked at herself in their floor length mirror and put on a long sparkly necklace which rested just above her “enhanced” cleavage. She asked TJ to go out to the sitting room and have the parental units close their eyes. He did and they did.

Diana took a deep breath as she waited for her parents to respond, after telling them to open their eyes.

Upon opening his eyes, Tim is momentarily stunned. Instead of seeing the crying girl from earlier, he sees - really sees the woman that Diana will become. “Jesus” he thinks. “When did she grow up?” and “Lucy and I need to mix our DNA more often - we make gorgeous people.”

And then Tim notices the dress… he thinks to himself, “wait….that’s the dress that lives in MY fantasies… about her mom… oh hell-to-the-no. No.”

Diana sees her dad go somewhere in his mind when he opens his eyes. Lucy for her part realizes that dress really isn’t appropriate for prom - that’s a sex dress. No wonder Tim had blurted out “naked time” when she had worn it on her first date with him. She’s beautiful in that dress, but we do not want Mateo thinking what Tim thought that night.

Lucy, sensing that Tim is going to react loudly, reaches over and grabs his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles. Saldy, it’s too little too late….

Diana watches her dad shoot upright and start yelling, shaking his head back and forth, saying, “NO! NO. NO. no! I mean it Lucy - no. I will divorce you right now if our daughter wears THAT dress to Prom.”

He spun to look his amused wife in the eyes before stating what he thought was an obvious problem, “The last thing I want my daughter’s date to be thinking of is “naked time” and ripping that dress off of her with his teeth.”

“Those are the kinds of thoughts he’s going to have. I know, I had them when you wore it on our first official date.”

Diana and TJ mouthed “naked time?” to each other and turned beet red at the thought of their parents getting it on.

Lucy finally calms Tim down, getting him settled back on the sofa. He continues to mutter to himself about being the only one allowed to have the thoughts caused by that dress- not some loser trying to get with his only daughter. No sir. No way. Even if said guy had been known to Tim since he was born.

Lucy turns back to Diana and says “so that’s a no. But to be clear honey, it’s not because you look bad, it’s because we don’t want your dad to lose his mind. That’s a “I want to make a baby with you right now” kind of dress. A dress of seduction - not really a fun prom dress, ok?” Diana nods, “ok Mom. Thank you. Come on TJ, help me with another one?”

——-

The next 5 dresses receive bland, non responses from anyone which was a little discouraging. Lucy comforted her, saying “Sorry honey, none of them fit you right. Definitely in the matronly boring group.” TJ actually yawned.

That left four (4) dresses in the closet with Diana.

A dark green one, a pink floral two piece, a silvery backless number and her favorite from when she was three to four years old.

Navy jersey, floor length, covered in sparkles, sleeveless with a cowl neck that she draped over one shoulder. Because of her height, the dress hit her mid shin and gave her a dangerous slit up her right leg.

Diana took a few minutes to experiment with her mom’s make up, winging out her eyeliner, and covering her lips in a deep plum gloss. She grabbed some sparkly earrings, and a gold pendant she found in a drawer. A simple gold disk on a dainty gold chain. Lastly, she swirled her longish hair into a chignon, held in place with a few flower and butterfly clips she remembered from her childhood which she found in Lucy’s jewelry box.

As Diana stepped out of the closet, she again told everyone to close their eyes. When she stood in front of them, she again told them to open their eyes and she received much different comments.

TJ spoke first - “Didi! You look like a movie star! You have to wear this one!”

Lucy spoke next, “Wow! You look spectacular! Honey, he’s not going to know what hit him. So beautiful. I always felt overwhelmed with all that material. But your dad loved me in that. I was wearing that dress the first time he proposed to me. Oh and you found my necklace! I wondered where that wandered off to.”

Lucy looked at Tim who clearly was a bit shell shocked at the sight of his baby girl who used to make him wear butterfly wings and a sword like all fairy princes do. She’s no longer a baby. She’s a young, gorgeous, woman.

“That’s the one honey. Diana - that’s the one. God, you are so lovely - Mateo is not going to know what hit him.” Turning to his wife, he said, with tears streaming down his face, “can you believe this gorgeous creature is ours?” Lucy and Diana laughed at that.

Finally Tim walks up to his daughter, gathered her face in his big warm hands and said, “Oh, I’m not ready for you to grow up. But I’m so lucky and grateful that I got to watch you go from being a scrappy hellion to becoming this lovely woman who I am so, so proud of. I am so lucky to be your Dad.”

—----

Mateo’s brain turned to jelly upon seeing Diana in her sparkly blue dress - her own brand-new gold necklace with an anchor charm around her neck.

Most importantly, he softly kissed her on the dance floor at Prom.

=========

[himbos-hotline]

"I've got a lot of bad shit that I'm taking to my grave." - agoraphobic by CORPSE For Cole

The dead man in the dream is you

Word count: 4303 words Ship: The polycule, Mostly focused on: Jay Orton/Adam Cole and Adam Cole + Wheeler Yuta Characters: Adam Cole, Jay Orton, Wheeler Yuta. Mentioned Matt Jackson Triggers: Gender dysphoria, anxiety, sex, yelling, mention of AI generated pictures Authors note: Trans girl Adam Cole Baybay. I have nothing else to say about this fic apart from Cole is "I just like being called a girl while having sex..and also afterwards...and also when I'm being cuddled.....and maybe always but we're not gonna talk about that" and then she has too. A lot of Coles internal thoughts about being trans being "wrong" or her being "broken" comes from my interal thoughts growing up catholic. Still he/him pronouns for Cole though. Read on ao3

Adam’s always thought of gender a bit like a coat that's always been a little too small for him. He slides his arms into the sleeves, watches how they squeeze his muscles into thin, toned muscles and long thick fingers that slide across the buttons as he grows up, squeezing his ribs and chest until the fat around his hips and the scruff of puberty pop out in a way that makes him look masculine. Makes him look like a boy.

In the mirror, Adam stares at himself in the changing room, watching from the corner of his eyes as other boys his age oogle and marvel at each other's bodies- flexing bulging muscles and pulling their boxers tighter to show off their bulges. Adam simply turns his eyes away and curves his shoulders, retreating to the safety of a bathroom stall until gym class has finished.

His sister painted his nails for the first time when he was eight. Adam remembers the smell, the way it almost burned as it wrapped around his brain as the sticky red liquid stained his nail bed. It shimmered under his sister's neon lights and Adam wore it until his father got home from work. The water almost burned his hands as his father stood over him, watching as he scrubbed the nail polish away before sending him to bed, ass as red as the nail polish still staining the bathroom sink.

A few weeks later, his parents sat him and his siblings down in the living room, faces set in a position of understanding. Adam was eight by the time he knew was divorce was, he always blamed himself, sitting on the top step as his parents argued long into the night about who would take what child, they never argued before the nail polish, before Adam had been so stupid to forget his place in the world, to forget his fathers teachings. Boys can't wear makeup or wander through the girls section, running their fingers across the hems of summer dresses and winter coats. Men can't paint their nails.

Adam buries the feeling deep down inside him. In high school, he takes a girl to the prom. His suit doesn't fit right against his body and as he stares up at his prom date, he wonders what it would be like to wear her dress, with its light pink flowers across the sleeves, the dainty blue of the fabric complimenting his tie. He gets crowned prom king, and stands on the stage, under the bright lights eyeing the prom queen sash leaning just off stage form the corner of his eyes. Wondering why Adam Cole: Prom Queen sounded better in his head.

After prom, Adam starts wrestling, finds a twisted sort of comfort in the masculinity in it all, the theatrics and blurring of lines. Adam didn't have to be ultra-masculine, with his self-cut hair and wide blue eyes, people fawned over him. Girls flocked to his crappy hotel rooms from the bars, desperate and eager for a scrap of attention and somewhere between their smudged mascara and parted, lip gloss painted lips, Adam finds a small part of himself.

They call him daddy and a part of him winces, so he simply presses them down further, staring at the smudged makeup left on his sheets long after they leave, he rubs off the lipstick kisses on his dick and stands under the shower long enough for the water to run cold and the mirror to fog up. Adam stares at himself through the cloudy mirror and sighs; wet hair plastered around his face makes it look rounder and for a few seconds a voice in the back of his head goes "there's a pretty girl." Adam shakes his head hard enough it hurts and wakes up aching and mournful for the next show, the next around of girls and the next wave of aching sadness that somehow only stops aching when Adam looks at himself in a fogged up mirror, breaking and mutating his face and frame until it almost looks like the fucked up person he is inside.

Adam's sure a part of his brain is broken; he should love how he loves, should adore women flocking and kneeling at his feet, eager for him to say pretty words to them, to give them a scrap of human affection. But he just isn't. He always wishes to sound like them, to be the one on his knees worshiping another man with his mouth and his body. Sometimes Adam tells the women he's sleeping with that they're "pretty girls'' and Adam's brain rushes with serotonin, floods with dopamine and that's enough to get him to finish and the crash comes harder than ever when he's left alone, a couple of dollars shorter and still filled with longing.

He goes to Japan and becomes a star, letting his self hate and confusion be his guiding light. A small part of his soul dies and comes back, reincarnated wrong and misshapen every night. He shifts and squishes the parts of himself that he doesn't like down, forcing them down as one of his friends stretches him open, whispering that he's a whore into the hot air of the hotel, he smiles and nods, letting everything melt away from his brain.

In all honesty, Adams is not sure why brings it up around Matt one night when it's just the two of them in the hotel room. Matt’s hand is rubbing against the inside of his thigh, trailing around the flexing muscle when Adam breathes out "c-could you call me a girl?" It sounds stupid from the way it comes out, small and shaky and from the wide-eyed stunned look on Matt's face he wasn't expecting it.

"I uh.." Matt starts, his hand stilling on Adam's thigh, fingers suddenly sweaty against the ripped fabric of his jeans. Adam sighs, biting through the inside of his cheek hard enough that it bleeds. He swallows the taste down alongside his desires and shakes his head at Matt slowly. They never talk about it again, Adam never gets to be called a pretty girl during his time in The Elite, just lets whoever wants him open him up, whispering their desires at the space above his head.

Soon, it almost becomes a comfort. Someone fucking into him, gasping at how tight he is, how wet he is around them and then the shuddering feeling of being filled feels like Adam's sticking parts of his soul together. He clings to whoever's inside of him, feeling the way they plunge deeper into him, the squelching of their bodies becomes like a chorus line in his head. Hotel rooms become his heaven, hotel bathrooms become his own personal hell; alone with nothing but his thoughts and the ever longing feeling that he's wrong. Somehow.

Something about Adam Cole is wrong, fundamentally something about him is wrong and broken and twisted. It hangs over his head like a personal stormcloud, painting him in the dark colors of callousness and smugness. Even when he's above the clouds, flying back to the states, Adam's mouth still tastes wrong, something sickly sweet stuck to his throat and something painful gnawing at the bottom of his ribs. The plane rocks in the storm and Adam allows fear to take over, pretending that the splattering of tears and the aching sobs that rattle soundlessly around the empty cave of his ribs is simply fear and not the desire to finally become right in someone's eyes.

It's storming the first night it happens; thunder rolls right above him, shaking the windows of his and Jay's shared hotel room. The rain almost overpowers the rushing of the shower and Adam sits with his back against the wall, trembling. Lightning highlights his trembling form as Jay returns from the shower dressed in his hoodie, she smiles down at him, her lips thinner without the piercings. Something in Cole stirs deeply as another rush of thunder paints the blues of his eyes with fear. "Hey the storm will pass promise" Jay whispers, kneeling in front of her suitcase as she fixes her hearing aids, fishing something out with her free hand.

"You're wearing my hoodie" Cole says instead of believing Jay's words. There's something pooling at the bottom of his stomach when Jay turns to him and nods, holding out and shuffling a pack of cards, there's small fingerprints on the corner of the cards, her nimble fingers still shower-wet and her chest still softly blanched, Adam trails the pinkness down until his hoodie cuts it off, just above her breasts. He swallows a little thickly and yelps, tucking back into himself when another round of thunder rocks the room.

"Hey." Cole stares down at Jay's feet, bare and blurry from behind his tears and he doesn't even remember when she stood up, there's a card stuck to her heel and when Jay shifts on her feet, Cole spots it's the queen of hearts. He smiles to himself, twitching his fingers against his knees as lightning flashes across the starry night sky. "Adam." Adam feels Jay's fingertips brush against the curve of his jaw and his breath halts in his throat, his chest stills and the tears fade for long enough to stare into Jay's mismatched eyes as she cups his chin in her hand and whispers

"Dance with me."

Cole raises an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a small smile. One that's as quick and fleeting as the lightning that paints itself across the sky, He hide his face in her hands, breathing in the smell of her hand lotion until he feels the ring-worn tips itch across the stubble on his cheek and Adam can't help but follow her movement, letting his eyes trail slowly up until he's staring at her, lost in the emotion that floats in Jay’s like a burning fire and Adam, reaches up taking the hand that Jay outstretches.

He stares at her and takes her hand slowly. The world seems to shift under Adam's feet as Jay positions his hands; one resting against the curve on her hip, fingers interlocking and he stares down at their feet; bare and cold as they shift over scattered playing cards that once held all their attention. "That's it, you're doing great Adam." Jay whispers, voice gentle that it almost gets lost in the roar of the rain against the covered windows. Adam relishes in the praise, tilting his head back against the moonlit spotlight, watching the silver glow as it dances between the clouds, following their movements.

He feels his thighs press against the metal of the bed and Adam can't help the cautious glance back at the still fresh sheets before turning his attention back to Jay, staring at her with a million questions. The grip on her hip tightens, the pressure in Adam's chest grows and when he watches Jay glance at his lips, it explodes. Her lips taste of butterscotch and ramen noodles and Adam tilts his head downwards, relishing in the fact that she's kissing back, Jay bites his lip and Adam gasps into the pain, letting it twist around his brain. Adam's weak and prey-like in Jay's hands, putty for her to mold into whatever she wants. There's no fight for dominance when Jay slides her tongue into his mouth, nails leaving crescent moons in the skin under his shirt.

Adam paws at the stolen hoodie when his back collides with the bedside table, free hand pirouetting in the freefall until his body collides with the mattress. Jay's weight feels right as it presses into his hips as the two of them breathe the same air, fanning out raspy want against each other's kiss-swollen lips. "Do you want this?" Jay asks and Adam can't remember the last time someone asked.

He stares at her, shifts under her weight and needily rolls his hips against the inside of her thigh, he's hard already and before Adam would think he's being pathetic; being needy and begging silently as someone stares down at him with a glimmer of lust in their eyes. He bites his bottom lip, feels skin stick to his tooth as he breathes in, surging up to steal a kiss, soft and gentle before he nods. "Yes."

Jay smiles, whispering "good boy" against his lips and Adam feels something in his head start thumping, pounding and sending pleasure skating down his spine; it's cold as it tangles like vines around each vertebrae, shifting them into a straight line, making Adam's head roll back as Jay's lips start decorating him in soft kisses, he can feel the chill of her skin as against his as she strips away his shirt, revealing him pounding heart and twitching stomach to the lightning. Adam only flinches when Jay's weight leaves him and he hears her knees collide with the floor.

There's silence in the hotel room for a few seconds as Jay's hands rest against his thighs, fingers itching at the knots just under his skin. "Yeah?" Jay asks, wanting to clarify once again as everything teethers on a thin edge between friendship and something that Adam doesn't quite understand. He nods anyway, lifting his hips with a needily high-pitched whine that makes Jay laugh against the skin just above his cock.

Adam follows her lips across his thighs, kissing at his knees before her tongue darts out to lick against the tip of his throbbing cock. Adam barely spots Jay raising a hand off his hip as his eyes close as bliss spreads warmth throughout his body. He's floating and the lump in the back of his head thaws like an iceberg; it trickles down Adam's jawline until it floods his mouth, pressing against his lips. Jay's mouth is warm and wet and Adam's mouth is dry when he gasps out "daddy please more-!"

There's a soft huff around his cock and he barely has time to rise onto his elbows before Jay is pulling off, the tip of his tongue tracing a vein. She looks at Adam with something in her mismatched eyes, her lips twitch into a small smile and the hand clinging to his wrist squeezes. "My girl likes that huh?" She says, the smile turning into a smirk and Adam feels like he could cum without her touching him again.

Girl. He's her girl. Adam feels his mouth hang open in a gasp, one that's greedy and eager. His cock twitched neglected against his stomach, sweat pooling under his arms. He's silent and floaty. He's a girl and Adam nods quickly, swallowing thickly just to fill the silence in the hotel room. Jay isnt looking at him the way Matt did, her eyes are soft despite the blown out pupils and her fingers and massaging at the back of his hand, itching against the flames of his tattoo as they lick against his wrist.

"yes sir..." Adam says just to fill the silence, melting into the mattress as Jay returns herself to his side as she kisses him softly, fingers tugging his hair at the roots.

The rest of the night is a hazy bliss filled with acceptance and soon Adam starts chasing the high again. Jay pins him against empty corridor walls breathing out how good he's being as Adam cums onto the floor, he stares at Jay with eyes flooded with euphoria and she smiles, licking his cum off her fingers as she kisses him, whispering "You're such a good girl, now c'mon clean it up." Giggling when Cole sinks onto his knees to kiss the inside of his thighs.

The two of them fall into a routine, winning matches together, Jay carrying the team, whispering how proud she is in Adam's ear then letting him pull her backstage, hands already finding themselves in her hair. Their bodies move in quick frantic paces, Adam chasing and sinking his teeth in the euphoria, letting Jay hold him as he sinks down from his high, whispering softness into his ear before tucking himself back inside his ring tights and letting Jay wander towards the locker room, wearing the beard rash as a gift.

During the night, Jay tells Adam secrets, brings up memories from their time in CZW and Adam wonders if Jay remembers the accidents that decorate the scars on her body, and wonders if the two of them were destined to meet. Or if the burning in Adam's chest is simply what he felt sleeping with the women all those years ago; just lipstick kisses that Adam can rub away off his skin, barely tracing the outline before he rubs the pinkness away.

But Jay doesn't disappear like the women of Adam's past; she stays like the Florida heat, floating over Adam's head and keeping him warm. So warm that under her eyes his skin bristles, sweat tangles into his hair and he spends longer and longer in the shower after shows, trying to wash the heat away, the water turns cold and Adam wonders what this feeling is, this self-sacrificing dangerous feeling. Like Jay could carve Adam's heart out with her bare hands and Adam would let her, smiling all the way as he follows the blood twisting around the delicate dents of her wrists, the scars on her arms.

He shuts the shower off and rubs a hand across his chest, a small part of his brain surprised to feel his heart still pounding away under his chest, he listens to it as water chills against his skin, and he's sure in the easily broken silence of the locker room shower, his heart is calling Jay's name.

Adam thinks this is what love feels like and fear bristles under his skin. He dries off and spots Jay waiting for him, she's scrolling on her phone and Adam sees the bright colors of a game shimmer against her eyes. "What ya doing?" He asks, chuckling when Jay jolts in surprise.

"My cousin showed me something, it's a filter thing that changes your face. Like it makes you look like a gal" Jay smiles a little, shifting up the clothing box as Adam sits down, their shoulders press together and Adam feels his chest start to deepen as her phone loads a picture and Adam feels his stomach drop. He looks at the face reflecting back at him on the phone screen and he twists his hands together.

"Huh..." Is all that Adam can remember saying. He stares at the person on the phone and swallows; the soft round eyes stained with makeup, bottom lips jutted out in a small pout. Adam thinks she looks perfect, beautiful. She looks like how he imagines himself. He shakes himself from inside his own mind and looks over at Jay, pushing a smile onto his face. "What app is that?"

That's the only thing that stays the same. Jay comes and goes, appears on the main roster, Adam leaves for AEW and finds himself in old friends. He fills himself with anger and bitterness. But the app still stays on his phone, pictures stay hidden on his phone and Adam pretends not to love the look on the fake-Adam's face whenever he looks at them. He turns his phone off and locks his fantasies away with the AI generated makeup and the shimmer of soft curling hair.

 Months turn to a year and Jay turns up again. They fall in love again, Adam finds his place settled snugly in a polycule, the center of a little universe that people look at with gentleness and confusion. It makes Adams stomach flutter and as he lays his head down slowly on the pillows, he stares up at Wheeler, eyebrows furrowing when he pulls his shirt over his head.

"What happened to your chest?" Cole asks, pointing at the scars under Wheeler's pecs. He doesn't mean to pry but when Wheeler  pats Cole on the shoulder, there's something unspoken between the two friends; Wheeler's smile is well-worn and he tells the story like it's something he's memorized.

"They're top surgery scars. I'm trans." He chuckles at Cole's confused face, ruffling his hair. "I was born a girl but I never really felt like a girl. My parents always thought I was a "tomboy" and it turns out I was just a guy." He shrugs, rubbing Cole's cheeks when his blue eyes drop to the floor of the hotel room. "It's a bit like..." He pauses, opening his mouth before to take a breath before Cole butts in mumbling

"Visiting your childhood home after someone else has moved in? Your body feels different but like..."

"It's the wrong house for the right person, yeah." Wheeler smiles, patting Cole's leg. The two of them spend the rest of the night speaking, Cole listening intently to everything his boyfriends boyfriend has to say. Cole never mentions his sister painting his nails or the acceptance he felt in knowing that whatever was wrong with him had a name, that Cole wasn't broken. Just a ghost haunting the halls of a house long since changed.

"I've got a lot of bad shit that I'm taking to my grave."  Cole starts one Wednesday before the show. He's meant to be in a tag match with Kenny and Hangman against FTR, They have matching gear but as Cole sits in the empty male locker room, everything feels off, like Coles picked up a bag that's too heavy for him to carry and its pulling everything down from his shoulders, turning him inside out until Adam isn't sure what he's saying. He purposely ignores the reflection in the mirror, the ghost of Adam Cole staring back at him as he fiddles with the new leather jacket and pulls out the laces of his boots.

Jay stares at him through the reflection in the mirror, eyebrows pinched up in confusion; hands fiddling with the pockets of her ring jacket, Adam admits to himself silently that he's a little jealous of how her ring bra cups her breasts, the way the pink latex makes them the center of attention, highlighting her tattoos under her breasts, the ones across her shoulders. He looks down at his own body, still hidden under the brown cotton fabric of his civilian clothes. He knows they're running late, that their match is next but the idea of taking his clothes off, looking at himself in the mirror or from the corner of his eyes makes him feel sick. He stays frozen on the chair in the empty locker room twisting his ring trunks and leather jacket around his fingers.

There's silence between them and Cole swallows thickly, pressing his knuckle between his eyes. He feels like he wants to cry.

"Everything's wrong."

"Does it not fit? Is the jacket too tight, I don't think people would care if you're wearing your black one sweetheart. if it's not the right color we can get Claudio to sew something on there quick, Maybe a little Adam Cole si-"

Cole raises his head so quickly it makes him dizzy. "You're not listening!" His voice comes out louder than what he intended it too but Adam feels like the words are just vomiting out his mouth, his stomach feels empty with every word he says. "Everything is wrong. Its not the fucking ring gear!" He has to pace, wincing a little at the sound of leather hitting the floor. "It's not right!"

"What's not right Adam? I don't understand." Jay follows him with her eyes, running a hand through shortcut curls, Adam knows she would understand if he just admitted it to her, He sees Jay glance up at the clock on the wall, biting the inside of her cheek and everything Adam's ever felt rises to just under his skin and he picks at it like a thorn.

"I want to be a girl!" The thorn pops through his skin and Adam feels faint, empty as he slumps against the wall until his ass collides with the cold, dirty floor. He hides his face in his hands, swatting an empty water bottle away. "I want to be a girl." He whispers, softer this time and when he swallows, it feels like he's trying to shove himself back into his lungs. He can't look at Jay, so he stares everywhere else in a locker room that wasn't made for him.

"Oh." Cole hears Jay whisper, voice as soft as a summer's wind and Adam shakes his head, pushing his tears away as he curls deeper into himself again.

There's worry across his face when he finally looks up and stares into Jay's eyes. It's a position he remembers being in , a long time ago where she held his vulnerability in his hands and cupped it so gently it looked like she was Death carrying a soul towards the afterlife. "You hate me- fuck you hate me and I get it! I get it I understand you hate me fuck, I'm sorry I'm  sorry!"

He feels her fingers under his chin, rubbing tears off the dimples in his cheeks. He follows her fingers, follows the tattoo up her arm and feels the corner of his lips twitch when Jay cups his cheeks, wiping tears away before whispering

"How could I hate such a pretty girl?"

Jay smiles and Cole smiles back, snuggling his face into her hand. "You don't hate me?" His voice is rough, still wet with tears as he searches Jay's face for any hint of a joke.

"Never. I love you." Jay whispers and Adam finally settles into that feeling that he's always chased through sex and pixel fantasies.

Acceptance.

"You've always been a little bit of a princess."

Princess. Adam likes that.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

@smallestsnarkestgirl @skyqueen3 @josiewrites @itsnoosetome @jacedoe

@golden-disaster @sincyrlee @glitchaxolol @daddywrasslin @bikenny

@katries @thegizardofmars @motorcitygem @miru-has-thoughts @powderflower

@miserablecreachur @afterdarkprincess @mobiblackout @pinksuperkliq @harvey-dent

@thekadster

[whereismyhat5678]

I know this is weird to dump on y’all but can I vent for just a few minutes? If this is even considered a vent since it’s not anything sad, I just wanna get this off my chest real quick.

(If you don’t want to read the essay I wrote scroll to the bottom and just read the TLDR 😅)

I like being a woman. I do. I like using she/her pronouns. I like wearing pretty feminine stuff. And in general I just like to be feminine. I’m happy being a girl.

But I just always wanted to just- try on a suit- JUST JUST HEAR ME OUT FOR A SECOND-

I wanna look like a dapper young gentlemen- like a very posh man that wears like- like one of those eyeglass thingys-

Like this fellow right here:

I also wanna have a mustache, LIKE THOSE ONES THAT ARE FLUFFY AND COVER YOUR MOUTH- the- THE PAINTERS BRUSH MUSTACHE!! Or examples like: The lampshade, the handlebar, the Hungarian, OR THE IMPERIAL (that one’s GODAM GORGEOUS-)

But more about the suit- I wanna- I PICTURE myself in a black slick suit with a white undershirt and a silk like tie, with nice shiny black buttons and some white gloves to match the undershirt. To show sophistication. With one of those top hats OH I LOVE THOSE!!

I’d like to see it on me but I wanna look more masculine in it like- like what I just said I wanna have a mustache and OH such a deep voice!! I wanna be those narrator voices that are soothing and just, you can fall asleep to them.

I wanna look dapper, I wanna look snazzy, I WANT TO WEAR A SUIT. I want to have a cane that I can lean onto while standing, I want other men to talk to me like if I were just another guy.

I WANT TO BE ONE OF THOSE GUYS- that are like, buff but also a bit fat since, ngl I would genuinely like to be a fluffy guy, AND REALLY TALL and look down at people. I want to be tall too not just as a man but as me because I just wanna be the size of my dad. At LEAST 6’0 that’d be AMAZING.

I WOULDN’T JUST WANNA WEAR A SUIT EITHER- I wanna be a gentlemen that wears warm cream colors and a nice soft brown sweater with a beanie and THOSE BOOTS. (You know the ones I’m talking about-). I wanna have big legs and wear those jeans that look HUGE to other people but are normal for you cuz you’re just a big guy! I wanna wear that, THAT AMAZING SMELLING COLOGNE GOD DO I WANT TO WEAR COLOGNE.

Okay- to wrap things up- sometimes, I just want to look masculine AND IF ANYTHING IF I CAN’T LOOK MASCULINE AND APPEALING (and smoke cigars like one of them guys in the movies, drink alcohol or beer even though I don’t like it- OH AND HOW HAVE I NOT MENTIONED WANTING TO HAVE THAT MAN GOLFER FIT-)

OKAY BUT REAL QUICK- I’d want to have like A BUNCH OF PAPER BOY HATS (I already wear them and I LOVE THEM SO MUCH- but if I looked like a man?? 🤯🤯) with like different colors to have one each day to match the shirt I’m wearing- with brown pointed at the tip shoes that are shiny and SO SO HANDSOME!!! I wanna look handsome I want someone to tell me I look handsome in like a vest and a red tie with a paper boy hat and nice cologne and A GOD DAMN SOPHISTICATED ASS MUSTACHE!- And when I go golfing with buddies I have the casual golfer fit, BECAUSE THEY JUST SO NICE AND SPIFFY AND HANDSOME I WANNA LOOK LIKE THAT!!!

I love being a woman, I REALLY DO- I like being a woman because in the future I wanna look beautiful in pretty dresses and nice necklaces and pretty shiny hair (short obviously-) and cute glasses to match my cute outfits! Heck I wanna wear some of these dresses:

Vintage I know- but you gotta admit they look GORGEOUS!!!

And I’ll admit I’m completely fine with being a woman because of this! I wanna look pretty in dresses, be called beautiful, have a dazzling outfit to make myself look even prettier!

But I also just, wanna look handsome! Wear a suit. Have a mustache. Have a nice deep voice and- funny story- I remember I saw an episode of Steven Universe where Pearl was wearing a suit and I thought she looked AMAZING!!

I ended up telling my mom that when I got to Prom I want to have a suit, which my mom laughed and jokingly said I would look like a lesbian. Of course I don’t like woman like that, I think they’re all beautiful but just not like that. But in general I thought to myself I just wanna see myself in a suit, a tie, nice shoes, a nice hat, with cologne. And I again don’t even have to look masculine, I just want to look handsome and spiffy!

I started liking the idea of having masculine facial hair because I can’t stop thinking about if I did have those things, they would be AWESOME!!

I’m sorry if I ended up writing too much or confusing you with my words, so in long short of it:

I like being a woman, wouldn’t mind wearing a suit, wouldn’t mind having a masculine voice features hair etc, and I wanna look handsome. But I still like dressing femininely.

I’m sorry for the long talk, I just wanted to spill my mind a bit, nothing much to it though 🤷‍♀️

[saleintothe90s]

482. Seventeen Magazine, March 1996

(see also: 1994, 1995)

Two things that are sightly upsetting: 1. I barely remember looking through this issue when I was 12. 2. I had to pay $30 for this issue off eBay.

Unfortunately, the Tendrecils line from Lancome is discontinued. Doesn't stop me from misreading it as "tendrils" though.

Does Kate know what magazine she's reading. This was Seventeen in 1995/1996, not 'Teen. 'Teen was the girly magazine back then. I don't know about Y/M, never read that one.

Those Hush Puppies the girl in blue is wearing.

South Coast Today [archive]

A similar green pair with laces seemed to be everywhere in my magazines for a brief time in 1996. I never saw anybody wearing 'em though. Never saw them at Kinney. I don't see 'em on eBay either, Joel sold 6,000 pairs at his store in 1995, wherearethey. 1

'Y'all know Cover Girl still makes this?!

Remember this beautiful "great" packaging Maybelline had. If I had money to throw around to collect old makeup, this would definitely be in the collection.

The fuzzy trim dress was a classic prom dress (or, at least the teen magazines made it seem that way) for the mid to late 90s.

Anna's dress is #1. I love the short sequin Hawaiian print dress. That is 1996.

There's those black and white dresses again! The Chanteuse girls will kick all of our butts.

I saw a lot more of these pastel dresses in my 1997 issues, which sadly yes, I'm trying to find on eBay right now. No luck.

If I was allowed to have makeup back then, you better believe I would have worn this look at school the next day.

I honestly had no clue that self tanner was a thing yet, or maybe just a thing that was sold at like, Saks in the glass case.

Slick straight hair. That was the thing. I had hair down to my waist back then so suffice to say I was not sporting this look

I used to get my Sanrio stuff from the My Doll and Toy Shoppe in downtown Hampton, Virginia. If you said the name of the store quick, it almost sounded like "MIDOL toy shop".

Every time I would see this ad for Kaepa shoes, naive 12 year old me thought "oh my god is that girl going to burn her school down?"

I had that lava lamp keychain and the 8 ball! I used to get them from either Claire's or Spencers. I had a Cracker Jack keychain too around this time that will just randomly show up in my dreams.

Did people really have scanners to scan in their handwriting back then? I imagine they were a small fortune back then. I tried doing some research on this software, but nothing came up.

Mickey was still stuck in 1995.

Oh, these were SO GOOD in the waining days of the low fat craze.

I remember when the Backstreet Boys got real big when I was in high school, I thought back to the ad and wondered "wait, haven't they been around for a while?" In 1996, they didn't even have an album in the U.S. yet.

"our internet address is.."

Some of these look more like pageant dresses.

I adore all the short dresses in this issue.

Is this a freshman dance? They look like freshmen.

Sharon Stone is a not-g0ing-to-prom icon.

Man, what happened to Finesse? It's like once 2000 hit, it became bottom shelf stuff.

There's always one dress that makes me sad in the prom issues, and I think it's this one. It looks so ... mature.

School Zone time, real pics of real kids from a school in Las Vegas:

The shiny, silky shirts!

These are the only two things I remember from this issue when I was 12: MaryBeth's amazing outfit--I wanted it so bad--and Jennaia's cat shirt.

A baby Tobey Maguire.

Baby Eliza Dushku. Did anybody else other than me think it was totally the norm for a guy to want to wear a bright tuxedo like this to prom?

I wish my scanner app on my phone got a better picture of this amazing Betsey Johnson dress Kathleen Robertson is wearing.

ok, a lot going on here on page 230.

-When I was attending Mary Baldwin College, there was this really cheezy store downtown that sold mostly cutesy poo gag gifts. Very cringe store. I'm sure if that store existed in 1996, they would have sold PMS Crunch.

-We're still in the waining days of the low fat craze here, so here are some "healthy" chips. Garden of Eatin' is still around! I think Guiltless Gourmet went out of business?

-I want to see photos and or footage of the Creamette Pasta Party at Tavern on the Green. All I I found was a blip on the New York Times:

On Saturday, about 17,000 carbo-loaders at the annual pre-marathon pasta party at Tavern on the Green will dig into five dishes created by New Yorkers, one from each borough. The dishes were the winners in a contest sponsored by Creamette pasta. The judges included as many weathermen (Storm Field and Mr. G) and sportswriters (David Kaplan of The Daily News) as food experts (Patrick Clark, Bob Lape and Robin Leach).

The meals, which will be served from 4:30 to 8:30 P.M., are free to runners in the New York City Marathon, which will be held on Sunday. The dishes are: baked ziti and vegetables by Martha Katzeff of the Bronx, rigatoni with beef and cheese by Mike Boyd of Brooklyn, spinach-rotini toss by Barbara Shields of Staten Island, creamy macaroni and basil salad by Karin Mackin of Queens and sweet nutmeg kugel by Diane Girer of Manhattan. All the recipes are by runners. 2

Remember when these Y-Necklaces were popular for about a minute?

1.Parnes, Francine . “Old Dog Trots Out in Trendy Places.” New Bedford Standard-Times, December 25, 1995. https://www.southcoasttoday.com/story/news/1995/12/26/old-dog-trots-out-in/50652285007/. 2.Fabricant, Florence. “Food Notes.” The New York Times, November 8, 1995, sec. Home & Garden. https://www.nytimes.com/1995/11/08/garden/food-notes-021709.html.

[weareallfuckingfruit]

Today's thoughts are on Jess and Jo. It's a love letter of sorts on what they mean to me as a fat butch woman, and it's quite personal, so if you're expecting my usual headcanons this isn't for you.

(PHOTO ID: It's a photo young girl, about for or five years old,dressed in a red mechanics outfit, playing with a toy drill and a red construction table. The girl is me.)

Growing up, I didn't have anyone that was a lesbian in my life, let alone anyone who looked like me on the TV. I didn't even know being a lesbian was an option for anyone until I was thirteen (when I came out.) and I think that a lot of newer media, like Hearstopper, and OITNB has helped with this massively but I still don't see butch characters that don't struggle with their identity. I still dont see plus-size butches that aren't 'the funny fat one'.

Until ALOTO. Jo and Jess genuinely changed my life and gave me a newfound confidence in my own gender and sexuality.

Jess is unapologetically butch, and It's so important that she is. She's never had to play by the rules because nobody particularly cared in Moose Jaw, if you could work, then you were valued. She comes into the league, not caring and not understanding that Charm School is there to weed out the Queers because she's never particularyl been othered. She laughs and she jokes about how stupid it all is, until she is told to get with it or get out. Then she struggles. Jess shows this amazing range of vulnerability as she realises she just can't do it, she cant conceal who she is for their rules. It's almost painful for her to do and that shot where she completely loses it in the middle of a street is so important and so telling. Jess is so loud, and rowdy and weird but she stays true to herself until the end, she pays the fines that she has to, she wears her hovers, she drinks beer and smokes wherever she pleases and for that, she is celebrated. She gets this amazing relationship with Esti, and with Lupe. She makes these connections and is absolutely honoured when the peaches help Jo. I wish I was more like Jess when I was younger, and I hope to be more like her in the future. Her unapolagetic butchness is mine.

(PHOTO ID: It's me again, but older now. I'm climbing out of a white vintage car dressed in a grey three piece suit and a blue shirt, with a pink tie. I've got short blue hair. It's prom night.)

Jo is amazingly well written with so many layers that I can't even begin to understand but she means so much to me as a fat afab. I've never seen anyone in modern media who is gay, plus-size and a good person until Jo. She's the epitome of a gentle giant, who is funny and kind and has the biggest heart. Shw treats everyone she meets with raw, unfiltered kindness whilst also not letting herself be pushed around, which gives her major respect. She's strong and has this funny flurty banter with Maybelle whilst trying so hard to not be the predatory gay, which I really relate to.

In short, ALOTO has helped me (and countless others) feel so much better just for being who they are and if any single show needs to be renewed, it should be ALOTO.

[fallenangelontheceiling]

Leverage 1x07

I’m starting to buy the tension between Eliot and Hardison. Eliot just learned basic photoshop lol. Love Hardison's attempts at awkward bonding, I buy that way more than they straight up dislike each other.

I’m sad we don’t get to hear Gina Bellman do a Jersey Mafia Wife accent.

Aww Sophie has a friend!

Yeah, why is Hardison being so down on himself??

At first I was like, I hope they let the daughter be a Mafia Princess Bitch. The cynic in me just does not have a lot of hope for sociopathic families. But the minute she was like, “Uh, Mom… I think releasing the doves is a bit much…” - “Shut up, Maria,” all my Say Yes To The Dress instincts perked up. Screw Mom! This is YOUR wedding! Seat your college friends wherever you want!

Parker telling the bridesmaid that yes, the dress does make her look fat, and not even picking up the social queues after the fact, is the first real Awkward Social Situation I’ve bought from her. Most of the stuff prior could be read as charming (I’m not like other girls I don’t like shoes, haha I taught this kid how to pick a lock). I absolutely see how Parker could become isolated.

Also REALLY buying the Parker/Hardison tension in the bridesmaids’ dress. “You really think I look good?” “You look perfect.” Stawp.

Side note that’s only relevant to me: I’m a little fascinated by the mob wife. I think she’s so picky because she doesn’t really know what she wants or what’s “high quality,” she just knows there’s a nebulous, upper class ideal she’s desperately aiming for. Explains why she would marry into money, despite the cheating and general immorality. (And sorry not sorry, I legit know so many women from Long Island that are like this.)

“I didn’t do anything wrong for her [my high school sweetheart] to dump me. I liberated Croatia.” “Do you think the Butcher of Kiev will recognize you?” Ooh, I’m suddenly very invested in Eliot’s backstory this episode! Fun B movie vibes 🥰☠️

“And that bride - what’s her name? - I’m not gonna let her down either!” I’m dying 😂

Between that, the incompetent FBI, and Eliot’s cooking, this is the funniest episode.

Omg of course the step mom is wearing white to this wedding. I kinda like the 80s prom look for the bridesmaid dresses tho ngl.

I hope this marriage is still legit despite the fake priest officiating lol. (Pretty sure all that matter is the certificate).

Nate/Sophie - I love mess 🥰 They're just projecting their own issues all over this damn wedding. Real Parent Energy. I love that for them.

“A wedding’s just a big con, huh?” “I never said there was anything wrong with that.” The ROMANCE this episode, istg!

[mirrorspell]

having a fat ass ribcage changes everything all my friends bigger than me are like uuugh i bet YOU can fit in this rolls eyes emoji and im like yeah sure lets play pretty princess give me the stupid poorly made prom dress and then gasp wow you cant fit in a medium? wow clothes really are terrible if a medium cant fit YOU! like i wasnt also sobbing throwing up in the kohls changing room because an XL still doesnt fit . i can be fat or chubby whatever im not afraid to say that but number fucking one? big boned is REAL. and these young girls everywhere are getting screamed at by their mothers and grandmothers for not "taking care" of their bodies just because theyve got a ribcage made for floating in the ocean for five hours straight off pure breath power. fuck you you fucking bitch. god DAMN

[milkywaygg]

The Cosmas Revamped Chapter 4

Linnie hid behind his textbooks as he entered the classroom, sinking in his seat as he kept his eyes glued to the action in front of him. With no teacher in sight, Nora was seen in the front, clutching the white dress of a pink haired, dark-skinned fairy, who was also much thinner and slightly taller than Nora. Her teeth were also much better kept and wore a decent amount of make-up, squirming around as Arthur begged and pleaded Nora to let her go.

“Yea fat fucking chance, cheater!”, Nora yelled, before yanking the girl closer to her, “Who the hell do you think you are talking to my man like that?”

“Aye! Lemme go crazy bitch!”, the girl yelped, “I-I didn’t know he was taken!”

“Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say.”, Nora snarled, her eyes shifting focus from her to Arthur, “What the hell is your problem, little man? After all I do for you?”

“Er…I…um.”, Arthur fiddled with the top of his sweater, unable to find the words to smooth things over, “She um…N-Nora please! Just let her go! I can explain everything.”

“Heh, you better.”, Nora smirked, dropping the girl hard on the ground, earning a small yelp. Shoving the girl aside, Nora floated near Arthur’s desk and placed both of her hands in front of him, aiming her red face closer and closer, making him squirm in his seat like a worm stuck on the pavement.

“H-How did you even find out?”

“Well sweetheart, let’s just say you need to do a better job of cleaning your room.”, she snapped as she dug around in her backpack, pulling out the offending pair of underwear for Arthur to see, alongside all of his surrounding classmates.

“Nora! You couldn’t have just left those there! You’re gonna embarrass Willow.”

“As she should be! I didn’t realize you had a thing for STD infested sluts.”

“Which would explain why he was with you-“, the girl, Willow, remarked as she got up and placed her hand on Arthur’s shoulder, snatching the underwear away before most of her classmates could get a closer look.

“I…I just…”, Nora growled, fire fuming inside her body as she looked at the couple, neither of them looking sorry nor regretful. As a matter of fact, they stood before Nora as if they were a married couple and Nora was but merely their neighbor. The man that she had dated all throughout high school, who she thought would grow old with, and who she had hoped she’d have the honor of asking out to the prom that was coming up, stared at her as if she were a stranger; almost as if the last 3 years had meant nothing to him. “Arthur….if you weren’t happy, then why didn’t you tell me? I-I thought I was enough for you. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

“Well..I..”, Arthur stammered, wishing that the teacher would hurry up and get here, “Ah…there’s not really an easy way to explain.

“Then let me, dear.”, Willow said, the word dear stabbing Nora in the heart as if she were shot. Willow’s pink eyes looked haughtily into Nora’s cyans as she smirked, her hand on Arthur’s shoulder as if he were her little prize that she had just won. “Nora, I really do hate to tell you this, but I’m afraid you’re not exactly what Arthur was looking for.”

“Which was?”, Nora growled, her fists clenching, though Willow paid no mind.

“Oh nothing in particular. Just someone prettier, smarter, sexier…and maybe a bit less..well less like my ancestors were a bunch of whales! Haha-“

WHACK!

Nora’s fist sprung to life as they slammed onto Willow’s eyes, causing her to stumble backwards and hit her head on the corner of Arthur’s desk. Linnie hid as he watched the scene, while the rest of the class cheered, whooped, and hollered over the fight that was going down. Arthur got up from his seat and tried to push Nora off of Willow before finally, Nora landed a punch on Arthur’s face that made the entire class freeze and gasp; the spark behind Willow’s eyes bursting into flame.

“How…dare you!”, she yelled as she picked herself up and shoved Nora away from Arthur, nearly slamming her into the teachers desk, “Who the hell do you think you are, hitting a boy like that?”

“Who the hell do you think YOU are? Calling someone a whale.”

Fists continued to fly as the fight began to evolve into a brawl, with a few throwing in paper balls to instigate. The screaming, shouting, laughing, and cursing kept going on and on until finally…Ms. Skylar had finally arrive to the class, alongside Principal Riverstream, holding a rather thick book of detention slips in her hand.

She thought it would never end. Clutching her ice pack close to her eye, Nora walked out of the detention room at around 5, but not without tripping Willow down the stairs in the process. Desperate not to go for a suspension, Nora detoured towards the back of the school towards a hidden staircase and left the school through a set of double doors on the backside. As much as she’d love to wallop Willow again, Nora just couldn’t find the strength to stay in the building much longer. Unsure of where to go, Nora dub her hands in her jacket pocket and began to take a walk, unsure of where the road would take her.

She had considered going back to the café once again. Even if it closed during the late hours, she’d at least be warm for a little while longer. Deciding to head towards the city center, she took a right onto a street that separated the school from some of the neighborhoods, including her own. Being a rather low-income neighborhood, it was plagued with trash along the sidewalks and graffiti, some if which was still wet, decorated some of the buildings. She held her breath as he passed by a smoke shop and a gas station that looked to be about 100,000 years old, with one pump just barely functioning.

Then, as she was about to make another right, she passed by a bar that had a cup of bronze liquid sitting casually outside the window. Out of curiosity, Nora paused in her tracks and got closer to the drink, noticing the bubbles still forming in the liquid. Looking around to make sure no one was looking, Nora took a sip of the drink, allowing it to massage her taste buds. It was a rather bitter taste, and Nora had initially grimaced at it’s lack of sweetness, but the more sips she had, the more she had gotten used to it, and the more the drink disappeared, the looser Nora felt. She felt like she was on cloud nine after the plastic cup collided with the sidewalk, replaying plummeting Willow’s stupid face on the ground.

Nora was so lost in a trance that she hadn’t noticed that she was swaying back and forth as she turned the corner and found herself tripping on some of the steeper cracks on the sidewalk. As she continued forward however, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Ready to curse out Arthur for everything he was worth, she felt her heart drop as she saw it was not Arthur’s number….

“Get your ass home right now. We need to talk.”

Feeling her heart pound furiously, Nora sobered up somewhat quickly and picked up the pace, flying through the city enter past the café, her original destination. She turned towards the cul de sac about 1000 feet behind and made her way back towards the house with the cyan roof; a poorly kept house with shattered windows and mold on the outside. Knowing that the beast was expecting her, Nora didn’t even bother digging out the key as she walked into the living room, careful not to fall over some of the whiskey bottles that lied on the floor.

Nora’s mother, Mary, a rather fat woman that shared Nora’s curly, cyan hair and bloodshot eyes, sat on the couch with the TV off for once. Instead of the remote in her hand however, Nora saw a white envelope resting in its place, with the top ripped wide open.

“Mom?? What the hell you going through my mail for?”, Nora yelled, almost immediately receiving a slap.

“Don’t talk to me like that, you little shit! I swear you and your father are both the same. Both of yous think it’s ok to talk to the breadwinner of this damn household, you got another thing coming.”, Mary ranted, smirking a little bit as small tears fell from Nora’s eyes, “Aw, don’t give me none of that crying shit. You weren’t crying when you was fucking around in class!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”. Nora asked, before remembering the detention she had receive, “Hey in my defense, that bitch was asking for it!”

“What? What bitch? I dunno what in the hell you’re talking about, but it sure as hell doesn’t explain the note that I got.”

“You mean that I got-“, Nora sassed before receiving another large smack to the face.

“It was in MY mailbox, maggot! Don’t you understand anything?”, Mary screamed, before she finally threw the letter in Nora’s face, “Read this.”

Dear Nora Cosma

We regret to inform you that the admissions committee of Wishbrook Academy was unable to offer you a spot in the fall’s upcoming class. We have received a large application pool and applications were received at a new record high in our history. Although we are not able to consider you at this time, we wish you the very best and encourage you to apply next year.

From,

Prof. Heath Caldwell

“Soo…what happened?”, Mary’s voice dropped suddenly, “Thought you were a shoo-in, like you claimed?”

“I-I….”,Nora stammered, unable to make eye contact.

“Didn’t I tell your stupid ass a million times that you needed to study?!”, Mary shouted, making Nora flinch as she clenched the whiskey bottle from the table across. Threatening to hit her with it, Mary instead took a breath and lowered it, looking at her daughter with disgust, “You know what? Pack the rest of your shit and get out. You’re officially kicked out now. Live under an underpass for all I care. I don’t raise failures.”

Already aware of this but not wanting to make her mother any angrier, Nora simply nodded as she went into her now ex-room, grabbing the rest of her clothes, schoolbooks, and anything else she could think of before walking out, managing to sneak a whiskey bottle from the kitchen once Mary had passed out. Hoping never to see this place, Nora dragged her bag behind her, unsure of where the road would take her.