#rivals on the streets lovers in the sheets

[nubisaureus]

asking you to sit on their face

character(s): Childe, Zhongli

pairing(s): fem!reader x Childe, Zhongli (separately)

contents: face sitting, praise, domestic scenery, c0ck r1ding, hint of breeding

a/n: hey y'all! sorry for the long absence but I got sick, and a bunch of personal stuff came up plus a bit of writer's block so yk :')

anyways, I am absolutely feral about pussy drunk characters so please enjoy this absolute filthy post (ik you love this stuff ;) it'll be out litte secret)

ps: it's my first time writing for Childe so let me know how it was! <3

pps: not proofread T^T

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Childe

It had started with you using your Cryo Vision to freeze him.

You two were sparring: it was no secret that he was your rival, as well as your lover. Rivals in the streets, lovers in the sheets.

He had tried to sweep you off your feet using his Hydro Vision, but what he didn't know is that you had a Hydro delusion: an extreme measure really, but needless to say it was devastating when combined with your Cryo vision.

So you had used your Hydro powers to direct his flood towards him, soaking him from head to toe. And then, with a flick of your finger, you had frozen him from the waist down, freezing his hands to the floor, effectively rendering him powerless at your mercy, laid down in front of you.

«So, looks like I win.» you bragged, looking at him top - down.

He scoffed.

«I reckon it comrade, you won. A Hydro delusion is not something I had expected. Although I don't mind this position at all.» you gave him a smug look, crouching next to him and caressing his face.

«What can I say, I'm full of surprises.»

«Oh, I can see that.» you looked at him, bound in front of you, helpless, at your mercy...

You were horny, very horny. His sexy knowing smile didn't help either. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

«Something wrong, comrade?» he asked, as you got closer to him.

You didn't answer. You simply kept looking at him, a million scenes playing in your mind, distracting you from the present.

As another fantasy started playing in your head, a loud bang startled you: Childe had managed to break free of his hand bonds, although he remained frozen from the waist down.

He grabbed you, making you topple over him, and started voraciously kissing you.

You moaned on his face, and flinched at the contact with the ice, so you melted it with your powers, and could finally feel his hot skin, burning even.

The training room wasn't the best for privacy, so you whispered something in his ear, and soon enough every doorknob was frozen, making it impossible for people to enter.

«You have a wicked mind using our Visions like that, comrade.» he whispered, out of breath.

«Oh, isn't that why all of this is so hot though, comrade?» you didn't particularly like that nickname, so you mocked him.

Soon enough, the floor of the training room became a mess.

An indefinite and tangled mess of clothes ended up all over it, leaving you two with only your underwear.

With skilled hands he undid your bra, which now laid somewhere on the floor.

«Sit on my face.» he suddenly said, his pupils dilated with lust.

«Huh? But I've never done something like that.» you expressed your concern, but were soon bothered by the raging heat between your legs, quickly soaking your underwear.

«Hey, stop using your Vision on me..» you whined, but he didn't stop.

Fuck it. He wanted you to sit on his face? Then so be it.

You took off your underwear and sat on his stupid orange haired face.

You doubted he could last very long..oh.

Oh fuck.

He. was. everywhere.

His tongue was inside you, moving, and moving, and moving.

The wetter you became, the more he'd feed on it.

And the ungodly slurping noises only made things worse. He wasn't eating you out, no. He was drinking you. As if he had an unquenchable thirst. As if he couldn't have enough.

You lifted your hips a bit, worried he didn't have enough air, but you heard him mumble.

«Don't you fucking dare lift up those hips. I'm not done yet, and you'll be here until I'm satisfied, comrade.»

At this point any and all rational thought had left you, and you just let your mind empty, lust taking you over.

«Fuck fuck fuck. Childe I swear, I'm not gonna last long if you kee-ahh..!» you came. Not once, not twice, you had lost count.

His tongue was drinking you up more and more, and you lost track of time, too ecstatic and lust drunk to even notice something as trivial.

When he was satisfied, he lifted you up, making you sit on the floor.

It didn't last long though. Soon enough you were down on all fours, doggy style.

«Baby I need you to take it for me, can you do it?» he asked, and you knew he was drunk. Pussy drunk. He just needed you to clench around him, he just needed to feel you.

You gave him a nod, and then felt his length inside of you, and the arousal mounted again. It was just a never ending marathon when you two got to it. That's why you tried to keep your meetings short, otherwise you'd end up like this, but at that point your mind was too preoccupied with him to think about anything else.

«You're so pretty baby, I love it so much when you clench around me like that..you're so warm, it just feels like you were made for my cock. Take it a little bit more baby, please, won't you? I know you can, you're so good..» he sounded delirious, out of his mind, but you didn't care. His cock just felt so good inside of you..

«So good, baby. I can't get enough of it, I'm sorry. I know you're tired but please, please please hold on just a little bit more for me, okay baby? You take me so well I just can't get enough of you baby. I swear baby I want to make you feel so good every day and every moment, if you'll just let me, I promise I'll take good care of you, baby.»

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Zhongli

It had been a long day. Zhongli was tired, sitting in his office at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, exhaustion filling every fiber of his body.

Who would've thought that working for a 19-year-old girl would be so tiring? He almost regretted fighting every day, almost.

Truth be told, he was just being overly dramatic: he hadn't seen his girlfriend all day, and today, of all days, his body decided to make him feel extra horny. Exactly when he had to work overtime.

6000 years and he still suffered from these issues.

He chuckled to himself, almost relieved. At least he still had a semblance of mortality in him.

As he signed the last of his paperwork, he could finally go home to his girlfriend, to you.

He found you on the armchair, reading a book. And you were wearing just one of his shirts. It made him feel..a certain way.

He sneaked his way behind you, his fingers landing on your shoulders, pressing slightly, massaging them.

You sighed happily.

«Oh, you're back, love. What did I do to deserve this special treatment..?» you said, closing your book and leaning forward, giving him more space to massage you.

He made you stand up and sit on his lap, and you instantly knew what was up, his cock pressing against you.

«Oh, I see now..» he continued massaging, and you unbuttoned the shirt a bit, exposing your back to him.

«I'd give you this special treatment regardless, love.» he reached for the shirt, unbuttoning it all the way. Now it was hanging loosely on his lap, your arms still in the sleeves.

He moved your hair from your back, delicately dragging his fingers along, sending shivers down your spine.

He kissed your shoulder, and gripped your hips hard, squishing your flesh.

He then started kissing your neck, making you tilt your head all the way back, until it was resting on his shoulder.

Soon enough his hands moved, now kneading your breasts, which were exposed, since you weren't wearing your bra, just panties.

«Zhongli..» you moaned, kissing his neck, your bodies tangling in a mix of lust, sweat and love.

«Mh..?» his mouth too preoccupied with making you feel good to give you a proper answer.

«In our bedroom. I need to feel your skin, please.»

«Of course, my love. As you wish.» you turned around, now facing him.

He picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom, while you undid his tie, and helped him remove his jacket.

As you two got to the bedroom, the shirt you were wearing was on the floor, and you were completely naked, except for your panties.

You undressed him, taking your time to kiss every inch of his body.

He moaned, a sound that reverberated deep within you, going directly in your pussy, his voice was just that hot.

He kissed you, and you both remained naked, as you jumped on him, crossing your legs behind his back.

He dropped you on the bed, climbing on top of you, and inverted your positions, putting you on top of him.

«I need you to sit on my face, love.» he said, panting because of the lust. How could you deny his request, when he was looking at you like a dying man looked at his savior?

«Are you sure, Zhongli? Won't you run out of air..?» he shook his head, reassuring you.

«It's fine, love. I just need you. You've been on my mind all day, and I need you, so badly. I just need you to sit on me, love.»

You decided to grant his request, curious yourself of how it would feel. He had eaten you out many times, would this time be so different..?

As soon as your pussy made contact with his face, you immediately understood how wrong you were about it feeling the same.

His nostrils got invaded by your scent, your arousal dripping down on his face, intoxicating him.

It was just so addictive. He had been dreaming of doing that all day, his mind unable to tear itself from the thought of having his face buried deep in your pussy.

He started licking away, like his life depended on it.

His hands firmly gripped your thighs, making it impossible to move. You bent down, the pleasure overwhelming you, making your head dizzy: you gripped the bed sheets, your legs trembling under his relentless licking and sucking.

His mouth was on your clit now: he sucked away, never stopping, never ceasing to make you feel good.

«Z-zhongli..» you whined, slamming your forearm on the bed to regain some balance, as he pressed your pussy deeper on his face.

He could feel how you were trembling around him: your pussy clenched on his tongue, as if it wanted to capture him, keeping him inside of you.

He couldn't get enough, he had to have you in every way possible, so when you came all over his face, he didn't hesitate to lick you clean, as your scent enveloped him, making him lightheaded, or rather, pussy drunk.

You didn't even know who you were anymore. All you knew was Zhongli under you, making you see stars with his tongue, making you feel like you were the luckiest woman in all of Teyvat.

As he was satisfied, at least for the time being, he lifted you up, already missing your warmth on his face.

«That was..I..Z-zhongli..» you couldn't speak properly, your whole body was trembling, the orgasm still lingering.

He moved you lower on his body.

«I need you to take me, love. Will you do it for me?» he didn't have to ask twice. You lowered yourself on his massive cock, your pussy stretching around him, making space. He had a massive girth to it, making you feel every inch of his length, driving you crazy.

You sat still on him for a few seconds, wanting to savor the sensation of his cock stretching you out.

«Fuck- love you're so warm and tight around me..!» his voice was an octave higher, the lust completely taking hold of him.

«M-move love..please. I need you to move, please.» he whined, begging you to move.

You grabbed his hands, using them as leverage to rise up, only to bounce back on his cock.

You took your time though, bouncing up and down, your tits following the movement.

You could hear Zhongli moaning like his life depended on it, which compelled you to open your eyes.

You looked down at him, the sight of his face contracted in pleasure, with his cheeks all read, and his mouth open, a small line of drool (or your arousal, you weren't sure), making you feel so powerful, like a Goddess, his Goddess.

You just couldn't believe you were on top of the Geo Archon, and said Archon was feeling so good because of you.

You came at the same time. You could feel his seed dripping down your thighs, and you tried to move a bit, to clean yourself.

He prevented you from doing so, closing your legs instead, as to trap all the seed inside of you.

«I just need to feel you clenching around me a little bit more, love.»

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[tteokdoroki]

vacationing with isagi while he’s abroad for a game or training is so <3

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, semi-smut, minors dni 18+, characters aged up to 20s, vacationing, being spoiled woo, being picked up, wearing a bikini, possession, little bit of smut towards the end, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

like say you’re in Italy and he gets a few days off between matches so he has you flown out first class and as soon as possible. he lets you plan an itinerary of all the things you’ve ever wanted to do with the time you have — trying gelato, visiting historical monuments or scenic walks.

isagi packs a fanny pack of all of your essentials because he knows you have a tendency to forget things. lip balm, sanitiser, a spare sun hat and a stick of spf because all you have in your massive tote bag is gifts for all of his friends back home in the form of an assortment of key chains and fridge magnets. he dresses like a dad, bless his heart. in a bucket hat that matches the colour of your sun dress, shorts and a t-shirt you’ve chosen for him.

isagi tries not to let his hands wander on days where you lounge on the beach. you’ve asked him to put on your sunscreen, and he’s cheeky with it — massaging the cool liquid into the expanse of your skin, rubbing out the knots in your lower back and shoulders so that you let out adorable squeaks and moans.

“do you need me to go lower?” yoichi will groan into the shell of your ear once his calloused hands reach the base of your spine, teasing you from over your cute little bikini bottoms.

you reach back to shove him off with an angelic smile and devilish eyes to match. “later, yoichi.”

he’ll let you drag him over the sandy shoreline and straight to the enticing blue of the ocean that rivals his eyes — glaring at anyone who dares to look your way. it’s a little stupid, he wants you all to himself, doesn’t want anyone to get to take in your beauty, your lucious figure, your dazzling expression the way he does. isagi nearly bites the head off of the poor guy who makes the mistake of glancing your way when you dip your toes into the water and your chest jiggles a little (you bounce away from its coldness).

isagi who has to lift you into his arms, your legs wrapped around his unfairly slender waist, to actually get you into the water. despite how pretty it looks, the sea is cold and you grip onto the pro player for dear life the further he walks away from dry land. he’s in waist deep, calm waves lapping at his slightly tanned skin and abs, when isagi kisses you slowly and drags out your bottom lip to distract you from the mere fact that he plans to dunk you in the water.

he forgets your arms around his neck as you drag him beneath the aquamarine surface with you — a melody of both of your giggles tangling with the salty sea air.

isagi orders you as many dishes, from each restaurant you stop at, as you want — happily spooning a portion of his risotto into your open mouth because you’d forgotten to order it for yourself and grinning when you kick your feet out in a happy dance. he thinks you’re so cute.

and later, on your last night, isagi makes love to you against rose petal sheets that he’d requested from the hotel staff. his tongue rolls over yours and his hips pin you to the bed and you can’t escape because he barely gives you the room to breathe while pouring all of his love into you. it’s overwhelming, crushed by the weight of him while pounds you to high heavens and you can’t help but cry because tomorrow isagi will belong to Japan, belong to the world and it won’t just be you two lovers exploring cobblestone streets and fruit markets anymore.

“you don’t need to think about that right now,” isagi mouths the words against your neck sloppily, his hands reaching between your intertwined and sweaty bodies to thumb at your clit. “s’just you ‘n me, precious. ‘n when this is all over, i’ll take you to another city. another place a-and i’ll fall in love with you again.” he somehow manages to hiccup between slow grinds and lewd squelches.

and you believe him, because no matter where soccer takes yoichi, your heart will always follow.

[onyourhyuck]

Ultimate Spider-Man: Spider-Mark. | L.MK

— Prologue: “Mark are you— Spider-Man?”

— Summary: Wherein one night you were saved by Spider-Man from a bunch of men harassing you and you find out it’s your enemy all along.

— Genre: Coming Of Age. Romance. Spiderman!mark. Mentions of hero duties. Smut smut smut minors Dni. enemies/rivals to lovers trope. Big dick mark agenda. Mention of getting harassed and attacked on the street. Mark jumps out a building with y/n. Medic students. Y/n is a confident queen. Fingering female receiving. Head receiving female. Spit mention. Breast play. Unprotected sex (wrap your willies pls ty.)

— Notes: Spider Mark fic <3

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Sometimes you hate the fact that you’re craving to be better than everyone around you and you wonder how come your first thought was to crush someone’s inability to be good at something? You blame your academic validation and growing up unloved but that doesn’t give you an excuse to want to be the best student on top of everyone’s graves. However someone was making it difficult.

Mark Lee was the top grader in your classes. Currently you’re both majoring in biology courses which are both to do with medical practices the more you progress within the year — you see it very much upsets you to have Mark get one question right than you or to see him get praised by the professors very much gets under your thin skin you can’t handle it. It doesn’t help that the boy seems genuinely humble and hard working too.

Maybe you’re being petty and so what if you are? No one’s got anything in university other than becoming successful and that’s exactly what your freaking goal is. If you cannot overcome this and defeat Mark in becoming the top student then you haven’t succeeded you’ve failed no matter if you get that damn medical degree.

You are envious of people who are laid back and could relax because they find things easy on the exams or the fact that they aren’t overburden by work. You really don’t understand how you are the one working hard ten times more and somehow they end up scoring good without trying. Maybe you’re different and it’s more of an you problem. But let yourself complain.

Walking down the stairs where many university students were occupied by the buddy next to them unlike you, you’re very much full on ‘social distancing don’t speak to me’ type of person, because you dislike social interactions. You’re here to study not to become buddy friendly with other students here and get distracted from your goal. In your hands you carried your workload books for studying that you wrote your class notes in. You don’t dare waste any detail out you honestly dote down everything the professors say in hope it will give you extra markings when the exams come.

Your eyes caught glimpse on a younger boy your age with coloured-hair that irks your eyes wherever you are it was impossible to miss them, skin full of melanin that the sun reflects onto it, beauty marks on specific places that could make someone weak to the knees. Your brain took in so much information at once that you didn’t even need it to confirm who it was, you simply just knew who it were coming up the stairway catching your attention’s breathe.

The man stops on the way up when the eyes walked to your direction stopping midway. You were the complete opposite direction but still all the attention went to you as if you were attracting it away from him without doing anything too much. The friend next to him stops, they were speaking but seeing how their friend went quiet to look over at you, they stop on the tracks as well and go quiet.

Mark feels like he was about to be eaten in a lion den with the way you’re watching him with your epiphany disgust. “Oh hey y/n. You off to study the new sheet professor Ahn gave us?” You hate how his voice was friendly and polite to you even though you’re both aware of your deep surrounding rivalry and dislike each others feelings.

“Yeah unlike you clearly.” You shot downwards raising suspicion that Mark was probably slacking off entirely. “You don’t look like you’re going to be studying it for tomorrow’s test.” You scorn. Mark’s eyes travel around as he tries to figure out how to use the information to you. Mark’s hands slipped in the front pockets and that smirk widens.

“I’ve already done the work, actually.” He said matter-of-factly as he saw the burning fire in your eyes. He was always ten steps ahead of you, always, it annoys you. No, actually it fucking angers you. Mark had the audacity to put it in your face because he was glad to see you near-wanting to murder him but he knew you wouldn’t. You’re just trying not to show how much it bothers you.

Your lips fell into a thin line that could seriously harm someone if they got too close, like it was a sword laying flat offensively ready to jab the heart of Mark Lee and fully discard it. Your voice scowls out to the storing area. “Shove off Mark.” You say trying to get past him and his friend, Donghyuck but the boys were blocking your pathway until your shoulders jumped each other roughly.

You leave them on the stairway and Mark turns around following you with a serious gaze. His shoulders clicked the moment you reached your destination with it and your shoulders were bumping roughly.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Y/n and her bitchy attitude always on your case Mark Lee.” It was unbelievable how much you’re ready and willing to ruin his friends day. Mark on the other hand shrugs sighing. “Truth hurts sometimes.” He quotes. Donghyuck laughs following Mark from behind as they continue going uphill the stairs. “Your entire fucking existences hurts Y/n. It’s kind of funny to watch.”

The boys were trailing off to the distance and you were on your own once again. The location to your next finding was the café down the road. It was out of campus bounds but it was really the only place that you could relax and stay as much as you want because the owner of the café lets you stay there for extra timings whenever you need to do your serious revision. Sometimes being inside the school building was more of a destructive distraction than a place where you could focus and learn. It’s ironic really knowing some students aren’t as serious as you, but no harm done you found your own element where you can relax and become more active in studying.

The new work sheet that Mark has spoken about with you made you rethink how quick he must’ve figured this one out. For you it took a few minutes expending to an hour. It was a difficult question that has different interpretations than what you are looking for meaning it was a no right or wrong answer — but it really made it difficult too.

Somehow you struggle forming your own opinion of it because it doesn’t matter what you think you’re more of a ‘There is one answer wrong and one is correct, pick the right one’ type of person. You’re not here to analyse you’re here to get the right one so you are ensured to be correct.

You suck on your bottom teeth, watching the paper. “This freaking riddle… I can’t stand this type of questions. They’re always beating around the bush.” You complain. You can’t bring yourself to made a hypothesis like this about, so you close the book when you huff out.

The owner of the café seeing you blow rough air underneath your face made them look over seeing you struggle to come with an answer to the work question.

“You okay there miss?” The man said with a look grasping at you where you sat on the table locating near the window. You look up at where the voice was pointing from.

The man with blonde hair and glasses on, holding with both palms a table cloth and water spray bottle. Seemingly they were cleaning up from previous customers who dine at the café before they left.

Your eyes linger on the man who was surprisingly quite handsome. He looked way older than you but he was hella charismatic enough to leave you thinking he were a musician or a model with the face he’s got. “Ah yes. Just revisiting previous work because of upcoming exams.” You explain looking back at the paper and then at the man.

Taeyong’s mouth forms a large ‘Oh?’ as he comes forward trading on the table he shows a gentle smile seeing how you must be an university student. You even had a bunch of notes on the side and your bag was on the other chair sitting on it there. It really reminds him of past him when he was a student stressed with Uni work to the point he considered dropping out — nearly.

“What are you studying if i can ask you?” Taeyong would ask pointing the daggers at the sheets. You would spare the man a short glance. “Biology and Medicine. It’s a combined effort course.” You’d explain as your mind moves to the question.

He was impressed seeing how well you were handling this subject he knows many medical students who tell people it’s so difficult it left them mentally drained out — half looking corpses even. But you? You had a bright face and a good smile. You seem like you know what you’re doing but at the same time you don’t get the pressure get to you.

“You must be smart. I heard that courses to do with medicine related require a high dropping rate.”

You smirk eyeing Taeyong up and down. “Yeah well… I try my hardest to stay on the top of the list.” The owner sensed a little arrogance but it wasn’t necessary a bad thing when it came now. You’re proud and that’s it. “What did you study then?” You ask suddenly.

Taeyong’s eyes travel around the café as he walks away to clean more tables and as he did this you watch him wipe down more of the white round tables with the cloth while he sprays the cleaning spray bottle on it.

“Me? I went to university to study a little bit of languages.” Your eyes widen as you spoke over. “Whoa languages? You must be more of a genius than i am then.”

Taeyong scoffs. “Trust me. I can barely speak the language we’re speaking in right now. I wish though. Now I’m just a simple café owner.”

It was nice knowing that Taeyong lives the life he feels comfortable and the happiest in even though it wasn’t exactly an easy path when he was younger, in university trying to learn languages and hopefully become a translator with a good paying job. But now even if he wasn’t making that much money he was happy that he got to open up this café in this first place; it was like a new beginning, a new opportunity has risen into his life trying to show him a way to live. And the man took it. It made you think about yourself and how your life is looking currently.

Even the smallest person you think of can change the course of the future.

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The road is midnight under the cloud, yet beyond is the dawn. You’re walking through the tunnel trying to make sense of the starry painting above as the sun has set a long ago. its rising is alternating between the times, it was too late and you left the café now. Taeyong has kept you company by speaking with you giving the courage who wait in faith for your upcoming exams. And so, even though you left happier and refreshed it dimmers down the minute you were alone. Walking with your hands cold and shuddering inside the pockets of your hoodie. You didn’t bring a jacket with you, it was quite warm in the day and suddenly the night made it freezing as if it were a course of the winter.

Sometimes you rather think the forecasts have it out for the weather. It’s too bipolar to even consider.

The bag slipped on your singular right shoulder resting there with its long beige straps. It was a tote bag enough to hold your university stuff as well as a laptop if you wanted to bring it along. It can hold textbooks and even some clothing if you wished to bring them in or with you anywhere. It was conscientious convenient that these bags exist without them you’d be stuck with a stuffed school bag having to drag it on your poor back. You’d imagine the back pain to be a hassle.

Nonetheless you were spacing through the tunnel and then making your way out. You’d take the route from the café to the park late at night. There was a long tunnel you have to pass through from the streets and under it you go through revealing the large park pathway. The dark green grass sticking out and the trees around you occasionally watch out of boredom.

Your hands were under your waistband area holding in one palm your phone. It has probably thirty percentage left on it. You reckon you’d stay longer in the café if only your portable charger wasn’t out of battery. It leaves you with only one choice to leave and head back to your apartment.

The park was closed away from the people, normal residents were asleep at this time and only the people working night shifts were roaming but not inside the park. You thought you were the only one, until in the far distance you saw a group huddling the path from the far. Right now it was far too away to tell what the men were doing so you didn’t think anything of it.

Your apartment was close by the university and slightly far away from the café and the park you’re strolling down through. If you had to make a guess it would only take twenty minutes by foot to make it back to your home.

‘Just what on earth was happening over there?’ You can’t help but come closer taking a look at the crowd. It was a bunch of men beating down another man.

They sent down a panic alert to your spine and you rush forward when the men turn to notice your presence approaching. Big wrong move because you’re now having fullest attention brought to you, a young woman alone in a dark part trying to get by, looking like you were trying to disturb them from teaching a young guy a lesson.

The man with a ragged tooth was the most interested in you. He showed the more intrusive thoughts of you. He found you quite charming with the way you rushed into a dangerous situation without a single thought.

“Yah! Leave that man alone. He is bleeding. You’ll kill him at that rate.” You scream but kept a promising distance still but enough for you to have a view of what they did to the poor boy.

He was coughing out blood on the floor trying to get up but whenever he brought the strength to do something the men surrounding him looking like gangsters were ready to kick his back down forcing him to be flat on the ground, defenceless and unable to move. You couldn’t stand watching something this cruel and gruesome, heck the sight of blood was too much for you to take, you hate seeing blood. It freaks you out and to see another man bleeding near-to-death really ruins you up with anxiety.

The man cackled at your reactions, you can’t help but think they might be on the psychopath side more than the humane. It wasn’t normal to be this cruel. “You can join us how about that?” The man was taking steps to you and the minute you tried to run back showing your phone. “I will call the police if you take another step forward!” You threaten them.

It didn’t work.

You weren’t sure why you thought it would work. The men in front of you look like they don’t care for consequences, so why would they care for police? Your threats were pushed aside just like you were grabbed with your wrist throwing you on the ground discarding your phone you drop it. The man crawling above you made sure your wrists were straddling both ways in his hands.

Then you look over to the man. Your brain soon realised you’re being crowded by not one man but now you were cradled by multiple men — all together they were ten men guarding you with a demonic look on their faces you can’t explain. It felt like a dark power within them that scared you.

You were gripped so hard you can’t avoid their slimy hands that touched your hair, finding it super soft and beautiful, the others tried the best to sneak their way to your clothing but you were squirming and screaming. Heck you even tried to bite them off literally!

The man laying on the floor saw you becoming their target and he ran away for it. You widen your eyes watching him run away. ‘That bastard! He ran away!’ You can’t believe it, you literally tried to save him!

The minute you thought you were doomed, the men were practically near to ready to strip you off the clothes. Your blouse was coming undone with the ribbon knot coming off revealing your collarbones and then you clench your eyes screaming. “SOMEONE HELP ME, ANYONE.”

You prayed, you really did. You’re not even a religious person anyways but you prayed for you to be safe and saved by someone. The minute you thought you died you were welcomed to see a man flying across the park, thrown with a kick and flying so many yards it was inhuman for a normal person to kick someone in the air so far with such speed and precision. Your eyes widen trembling at who this new person coming in, it felt like a new predator ready to eat you and the gangsters men who near-harassed yourself. You couldn’t tell if he was helping you or if he was ready to kill you too. The men were distracted by the new force encouraging them to fight.

Yourself you felt a shiver down your spine. No one saw the person who was assassinating them in the darkness it’s as if they were the darkness itself. You felt too exposed meanwhile you trying to track the invisible force targeting the enemies were one by one dropping like freaking flies over here.

It scared you, scared you because you might be the next fly who drops dead.

“Where is that bastard coming from?!” One man yelled out loud.

“Woohoo, here piggy!” A voice suddenly called out causing them to turn around to see a hanging man on a tree floating by a spiderweb. Your eyes itch on what you saw.

The man thrown a punch the minute he saw the red man only to get a headbutt falling unconscious with a possible broken nose.

He unlatch from the tree. The spiderweb retracting back into the hands and he begins to walk on the park pathway you were laying there onto. The last man standing was behind you grabbing you up getting out a knife to your neck which made you confused, everything was so quick happening in just a span of zero point five you can’t figure out how you’re now held against a knife to your throat. You felt your oxygen pressure levels rising and you could no longer breathe.

The figure that was outlined disappeared and you can’t help but close your eyes murmuring prayers. “Please God help me, I’m sorry for not doing enough good for this world! I swear I’ll be a changed woman if i live…”

You can’t believe yourself you’re literally praying out loud. The man clench the blade to your throat and suddenly a warm liquid drops down on it. Your eyes widen as you felt the scar incoming. Your own blood slowly dripping down the blade and the man’s wrist too on the park ground.

“Shut up, or I will slice your throat.”

You take a mental note shutting up instantly, but then a thrust of wind blows you off the ground and your eyes shut down seeing blackness till you’re feeling two muscular arms pull you up and your clothing blew on the cold air sliding on your body. You felt the chest brush on your skin and you look up opening one eye, slowly opening your second eye, shocked to see spiderman has come back to save you. You, the person who was supposed to be in another man’s arms with a knife to your throat.

The spiderman came round with a web attaching to a tree flinging back with his legs doing a round house kick knocking the man over unconscious and the knife into the air landing somewhere on the grassy land. You couldn’t help but stay mesmerised he was holding you while fighting the bad guy?

What can he not do?

Your body was in the air as Spider-Man kept his hand on your body never letting you go. He swung with one muscular hand with a spider web between the buildings. He spoke to you breaking the silence, but didn’t look you into the eye, you were the one staring at him all this freaking time panicking deep inside. “Where do you live I’ll drop you off there.” He asked you firmly but you were here pausing for a long silence.

He wasn’t sure why you were so quiet until you break out of your long thoughts making you so absent minded it was out of your character.

“I- live in…” you nearly forgot where you lived you couldn’t believe it. The Spider-Man wanted to laugh seeing you so confused and lost while trying to figure out your tongue when to speak.

“There in that apartment block.” You simply move your hands pointing to the building.

Without a reply you were brought inside the building dropping you off by your door where spiderman stood still seeing your feet latch on the ground once again. Your clothing were on your body but your blouse was undone and Spider-Man occasionally avoided looking at you and instead he found the ground rather more interesting — you wanted to ask him to look at you so you could thank him but you soon realise what the problem was.

You loudly stutter out. “O-oh shit…” you grumble turning around fixing the buttons on your blouse. He turns to you again. “You’re not hurt right?”

The question was something you weren’t even sure if you were physically hurt or mentally hurt? How do you answer a question you don’t know how to answer.

You were going to say no but your hands suddenly rub down your neck and you brought it back to your view seeing blood on your palm from where you touched your neck on. Your eyes widen and you look back at the man in front of you, covered in a disguise. You weren’t sure who you were even speaking to — in reality it’s awful discomfiting how much you feel safer with a man in a fucking suit than people who don’t wear a disguise.

“I’ll be oka—“

He grabbed your wrist so softly you felt like he was cautiously careful with you. You had no choice but to come forward and love your neck to the side so he can get a full access view of the little cut on your neck from how hard that man was bruising the knife blade to your skin. You felt his hand caress the wound with his free hand and he looks at your apartment door pulling away from your neck.

He wanted to think ‘you’re not okay, you’re far from it.’ He can’t help but think why on earth were you out there so late and don’t you realise how dangerous the world is? He prays to God you realise and take notes from this situation to not make it repeat itself like old history. You saw the man look at your apartment door and letting your wrist go, you retract it back down holding it yourself.

“Can you invite me inside your apartment so i can tend to your neck wound? I cant leave it untreated.” He was so strict and stern, you wonder if he does this to everyone he saves.

‘He probably has to do this. It’s his job, Y/n.’

You couldn’t refuse the offer because two things: one he was doing his job and he probably had no choice but to treat you, and two, you want to repay him for saving your ass somehow. You were reckless today and thanks to your kind actions all you got was nearly being killed.

So much for being selfless, that man who was beaten up left you to die. He saved himself and he didn’t save you at all.

“Sure come in.” You open the apartment door unlocking it with your keys. Both entering a dark apartment you dimly lit the lamp over so you can see roaming the apartment that wasn’t too small nor too big it was probably a good spacious space for a single student studying down the road. This apartment was the only thing you could afford thankfully your parents gave you enough money to pay for this renting it.

Luckily you sometimes work down the library doing volunteering and you happen to get paid that way too. It pays a good amount of money that you allows you to pay the upcoming month’s rent.

Not like it matters you’re almost done with university, almost there you just have to ‘defeat’ Mark Lee with your grade paper by scoring higher and bam; you’ll be satisfied with your hard longing work and you will get your results and degree.

The man coming inside your apartment saw the opportunity to look around your apartment by letting his eyes wander. It was a nice cozy apartment. The couch was leather black and you had a decently size tv on the wall attached. The windows were large letting enough sunlight if it was day but since it’s night currently the only light source was the lamp.

He saw you coming back after hearing you rummage through your kitchen getting the first aid kit out and seeing you walk over he was sitting down on the couch letting you sit next to him. You were both silent until you let your mouth open.

You had so much questions, so many answers you were looking for, but he couldn’t answer them. He wanted to let you to not take it to heart.

He wanted to but he couldn’t answer them.

“Thank you for saving me…” you say softly as you saw the man in the suit sitting in front of you looking like he knew what he was doing exactly, you couldn’t believe it he knew how to professionally apply disinfectant on a cotton pad, he knew how to handle stitches too and he knew what to use on an open bleeding wound.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but you found yourself wondering how come he moved like a medical student?

His deep voice hit you like a train. “It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He goes quiet for a minute when applying the burning cotton pad on your wound rubbing it in stripping motion. You flinch and he saw you bite on your bottom lip at the burning dent on your neck.

It was a stinging sensation you couldn’t fight.

He spoke again trailing at one thought he was wondering all this night ever since saving you. “Why were you out this late anyways? Don’t you know bad guys are out on about the streets at night.” He was almost scolding you but you couldn’t help it when finding it was kind of comforting to have someone care for you. Even though you’ve never met them before.

“I am a busy uni student. I have my priorities to become the best of my class.” You state firmly, somehow stunning the man bearing you to say that you’d rather do everything in your power to succeed.

Somehow he felt your perfectionism and determination inspiring.

“I can’t let Mark Lee get a higher score than me.” You mutter suddenly out thinking back to the boy in your class who just boils your blood by being perfect.

You look away but you felt your throat clench when seeing his face come closer to clean it with another clean cotton pad letting the wound sink and dry no longer becoming a dry blood mess. He was making sure your neck was clean and not just tending to your wound, meanwhile cleaning he checked the rest of your body by quickly scooping with his eyes checking for any more casualties. “I don’t know why i got involved. I did an altruistic thing to someone and look where it got me.”

You scowl out scoffing with irony in your throat. This is why you prefer not being kind to people because this ends up later on. You get hurt in return.

“So much for being altruistic my ass.” You grumble.

You heard the man chuckle deeply shaking his head. He found it quite hard to believe you got involved to protect someone but at the same time there was a humane side to you where you do care. He puts the first aid equipment back into the box and closed it for you indicating he was done.

“Well you’d rather study your brain off so late to the point you could nearly get murdered? You must be the brightest student your school has.” It was a compliment melting your heart and you felt exposed and embarrassed. You can’t believe you rented to him about Mark Lee, your obsession with your grades and now your current near to death experience.

He saw your flustered expression as you gently laugh it off under your breathe, it was the softest laugh, the laugh you can’t hear but barely your ears could hear a glimpse of it in the longing air distance between your bodies.

“I’m sure you can beat that guy Mark Lee at your exams. I believe in you.”

The first time someone said they believe in you. Your heart couldn’t take such words in at first until your brain duly processed them and proclaim them to be true. It felt like a lie but in reality it was truth spoken from the heart deep inside the saviour who risked their life and time to keep you safe and protected. You smile, unconcealed by your frown or the usual expression you wear. You smiled from your heart and not from your logical perspective self.

You grumble. “Hate to break it to you but I don’t think i can because tomorrow we have this test and i don’t have a written answer for the question we are answering tomorrow.”

You pull the sheet out from your bag that you nearly forgot back into the park thankfully, your saviour has grasped it for you. The sheet of paper was placed in front of the man and you.

You sigh out wanting to pull your freaking hair out of your head because you couldn’t find or come up with an answer to this question.

He read it aloud. “What other medications could you provide to a patient who is diagnosed with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction?” You look at him from the side humming.

“Meaning you have to make your own hypnosis as to why you’re picking this medication and what will you do once you give him it and what furthermore will you proceed.” You sigh out. “I don’t do well with questions like this and honestly i can only think of one medicine. But you can’t use this one. It has to be other medications and methods used.”

You weren’t expecting anything from the man sitting down but the minute you saw him grabbing a pencil from the table that was lying about randomly he starts writing a diagram for you to see on the sheet and your eyes widen at what you’re seeing written down within the same time space. Your thoughts about the man being a professional medic was now coming back and you were so convinced with the way he was giving you an explanation that he was something close to your subject.

Heck maybe he was a doctor who the fuck knows?

“Here,”

He puts the pencil down now facing you again. “You can use enoxaparin for the patient’s medication with a side of dual anti platelet treatment and resistance that way they will be able to get a higher chance of recovery.”

It’s the way he explained this to you and you finally had a light bulb moment it literally felt like it. He opened your eyes to an answer and you face the man in a spiderman suit. If you’re being honest you weren’t expecting spiderman to be helping you with your exam answer for tomorrow so you could pass heck you weren’t even sure if this was real. It felt like a fever dream being saved by a superhero while you were still stressing with work and now he was helping you with your school work.

You stutter out reading the whole planned out section that you could do in your exam. “Wait… how— how did you know that you can use enoxaparin for a patient with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction.”

But the minute you turned to look around to your side to see the man in the suit disguised becoming a whole enigma to your existence he was gone no longer next to you as if he vanished from thin air and you held your breathe.

Looking around the apartment helplessly.

Your eyes land back to the sheet paper holding eye contact with the handwriting and rub your fingers on them.

‘Just who are you, Spiderman?’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The freshman passing to get to their classes made you wonder if you would ever miss these classes and traffics on your way to get to them, you’d have to say no. You can’t wait to graduate and leave this hell joke because freshman are truly the most annoying grade you’ve ever encountered.

On your way to the great hall where everyone in your class was seated ready to do the test ahead. You spent your whole night writing an hypnosis and memorising it so you could re write it on the real exam paper.

As you walk to your seat you bump into a boy you’ve not been looking forward to meeting, again. “Mark move out my way you’re blocking my seat.” You are complaining this early in the morning? How do you have the energy to do this.

Mark can’t help but not argue back it’s been so early in the morning he doesn’t even want to hear you and your disgraceful attitude to constantly get on his case. You push through his seat and sit down the same lane but only three seats away from him. Mark was asleep resting on the table but you were revising and re reading your notes meanwhile he was sleeping. You can’t help but think he’s being incredibly rude by not taking this as seriously as you and everyone else in this hall.

From every corner there was a medical student looking back on to their notes, so why wasn’t he? Even if you’re so tired you can’t move, you should at least try to look like you’re doing something.

You murmur under your breathe. “So much for showing off. If you wish to sleep you shouldn’t of come at all.”

‘He’s so unbearable.’ You complain.

The boy lifts his head up. You notice the fleek of his blue-ish silver alike hair was messy almost as if he didn’t even try to brush it yet he made it look super good despite being the normal bed hair.

He shots at you trotting back with the same energy and attitude as you. If you’re going to be insufferable he might as well match your horrible words too. “Mind your own business and focus on your own work.”

He grits his teeth at you. “I ain’t the one who constantly gets a point lesser than the work I’ve submitted.” He stalls. “Starting to think you’re a bitch by default.”

You stop watching him completely bite back and chew you open and then, just to chew you up again and spit you out into the bin like you’re nothing but rotten gooey mess that cannot be digested.

You didn’t reply but you can’t help but find Mark to be incredibly off the edge today and the minute the professor came in handing out the test papers the game was on. Your brains were on the A game trying to answer with much detail to the question everyone should’ve been revising yesterday. You remember that last night Spiderman has helped you and you were taking his advice with a mix of your own method process to make it your own work too. You felt confident now and unlike before, you’d actually think you might finally have a good hypothesis —better than Mark Lee’s.

The exam surprisingly went well however and you and Mark were both left in the hall finishing up the last touches. You finished before Mark only by twenty minutes until he came running his eyes behind you seeing you walk away with a proud smug.

Your paths disconnected. You walked away but unlike then you realised you forgot your own phone and airpods on the desk.

“Shit!”

You ran back going up the stairs in hurry and then forcing your way back into the hall you open the door wifely. The professor was out of bounds for a little bit only leaving Mark walking out of the lane but you bump into him suddenly knocking his stuff out of the arms and he looks at you.

He was staring you down in disbelief finding this incredibly annoying. He founds you super annoying today and he doesn’t know why or what. He can’t put his fingers on why you keep getting in his way.

You look away glaring. “Ugh watch where you’re going Lee.” You grumble going down on your knees lifting his stuff up. Hey at least you’re helping him.

Mark sighs grabbing his back and pen off the floor meanwhile you grab his piece of exam sheet he’s written loads on. But your eyes caught onto something similar and your brain suddenly flickers like you’ve connected a dot to another dot.

enoxaparin and Dual anti pallet?

You couldn’t believe it but the same handwriting and the same words you’ve heard from last night it really struck you until a harsh arm reaches out grabbing it out of your fingers glaring at you.

Mark looks at your dazed expression grumbling. “Hope you’re not cheating by being nosey Hm?” He side tracks pushing past you putting his exam paper on the pile with the rest of them and then going back up the stairs leaving through the door .

You held your gaze at him grabbing your phone and airpods running after the boy suddenly, suddenly you’re looking for an answer for your conspiracy theory.

‘There’s no way he’s spiderman, there’s no way!’

You caught him outside walking out the campus and down the road you’ve seen Mark stop turning around to see you shouting his name on top of your lungs. You catch your breathe, he saw the bright red colour on your cheeks from simply running after him all the way from the campus Uni to the freaking city roads. Mark raised an eyebrow judging why you’re following him when in reality — you wanted answers you seek so badly.

You want to wish you’re wrong. Your enemy cannot be your saviour that you are thankful for.

It makes this whole situation stupid on yourself. If you’re the one being fooled, god you don’t know what you’d do.

“Mark are you— Spider-Man?”

You ask him panting out heavily catching your legs before straightening upwards your body. The way your gaze fell apart the minute Mark raised his eyes up in surprise at your assumption.

Mark didn’t know why he couldn’t say no to you.

He wasn’t even sure why you’re catching onto him and if you are he wants to know how.

Somehow, you knew from his gaze. His gaze alone gave you an answer.

Mark grabs your wrist suddenly pulling you away. “What makes you say that, Y/n?” He was seriously asking you now and you were terrified wondering what he’s about to do.

He grabbed your wrist leading you up to a rooftop on a building that wasn’t even locked. The lock in the door was broken letting anyone walk up there for a long view of Seoul city and you’ve never felt more terrified of heights until now.

The boy from your class, your enemy and rival, the one you despise pushed you to the railings of the building staring into your eyes. His eyes were filled with tension and fear wondering what you’ll do if you find out his truth. His secret he’s kept from even his family.

Heck you weren’t sure what you’d do yourself if it was true.

“Wait why are we here?” You blabber out suddenly. Why the rooftop?

Mark ignored your requested question and simple puts the bag down and his shoes off. Your eyes widen as you saw Mark now trailing over the freaking railing of the rooftop standing on the edge and your mouth drops down thousand pieces before you knew it you shouted for him to stop.

“Wait- Mark holy fuck what are you doing!!” You slowly approach him and Mark turns to you making you stop with a single look at you.

He paused looking down at the heights above. It was fifteen stories high, maybe even more fox knows what. You couldn’t believe what Mark was doing and you felt like you were pressured into doing something to save your freaking enemy.

He spoke so seriously and sternly. “You asked me if I’m spiderman,” he looks at you again. “What do you think is the correct answer, Y/n?”

You weren’t sure.

If anything you were going based on your instinct and the handwriting you saw last night. It looked identical to the one Mark wrote on the exam paper today. It just made you think maybe it was him.

But now that Mark was standing on the railings looking like he was about to jump any minute you weren’t fucking sure. You’re contemplating. Second guessing your answer.

Conflicting information accounts your reality.

“Answer.” He demands shouting at you.

Seeing you flinch like you’re freezing and terrified to death he could see you shout back just as much at him.

“Yes! Okay! I think you’re fucking spider-man who saved me last night.”

And that is when your heart sank like it was drowning in between the seven seas completely squished between the contracting waves and the black hole draining you to a drift mark between your only breath of hope. As your heart broke down you could feel yourself dropping down after Mark. You crawled down the railings and jumped down right after the boy trying to grab his hand. He was dropping fast from each floor story —

15…

14…

13…

By the time you knew it you’re linking past two digits into singular and Mark opens his eyes widening seeing you drop down to grab him. ‘You’re so stupid…’ he couldn’t help but find your way down with him recklessly looking on you. For someone who’s so smart you have a way of becoming irrational.

You thought you were going to die until Mark grabbed you suddenly by your hands interlocking them. As he held your hand so tightly you felt your entire world swoosh open like an upside tennis ball on an open court. A huge spiderweb as connected you back to the rooftop that you jumped out off in the first lane.

Mark carried you over the railings as you were shaking gasping out for breath because he took it away.

You nearly doubted him being spiderman, because the only reason you jumped down was to save him knowing he was spiderman.

You fell to your knees holding your chest. Mark follows your outline silhouette of your hourglass and you glare looking at him.

“I’m not sure if you’re fucking dumb or if you enjoy being in dangerous situations.”

He seethes between his teeth harshly.

“Me dumb?” You repeated. You wanted to laugh for a minute at his audacity. You’re not the one who jumped down a flight of fifteen stories because you wanted to prove something to someone.

He was suddenly hit by hit hand against his chest. “You fucking— psycho!”

“Okay I deserve that.” He states understanding why you’re exactly cursing him.

Mark saw you curse him in long strings of words and shouts he couldn’t tell which one it was — words or freaking lyrics to a Kanye west song?

“What the fuck was your motive for this.”

“I didn’t know if i could trust you with my identity.” He sores out and you face him with your gaping mouth.

“So you think jumping down fifteen stories and me jumping after you will make you trust me? What’s fucking wrong with you— Y’know what you need to be put into a psych ward.” You blast. “There’s a thing called communication, Mark Lee!”

“Right…”

Mark looks at you finally calming down as you reclaimed your oxygen inside your deprived body it felt like the whole adrenaline was hunting you down. The boy came to an conclusion that you were one of a kind — no one would jump for their enemy or even an academic rival you wish to destroy. But you did it.

He wants to know how you caught him too, but he could take a guess.

“Question Y/n—“

“Hm?” You hum out softly turning around and the boy stops speaking as your calm and relaxed eyes rest on him.

You weren’t looking at him like you want to hate him in fact you were just looking at him without a singular emotion except perhaps, a hint of gladness maybe?

You could feel Mark’s breath returning. “How’d you find out I’m… spiderman.”

You’d smirk. “Your handwriting.”

He sighs out. “Dammit. I knew that would be a problem.” You laugh a little knowing he must feel slightly caught but lucky for him you aren’t going to expose him.

He did save you, you owe him that much.

“Hey Mark?”

Mark looks up at you finally catching a whiff of your hair scent when the air blows behind your head and your back. He couldn’t smell anything else but a hint of your watermelon and strawberry shampoo. It made him somehow feel better about it, knowing it was such a pleasant smell.

You smile at him. “Wanna come to my apartment and start anew?” You couldn’t help but think maybe you and Mark could become friends.

He saved you, even though you treated him like badly because of wanting to be better than him.

He could photosnap a picture of your smile like this if he was honest. He would. “Sure Y/n.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s crazy how much the dynamic between you wanting to ram Mark Lee’s face into a wall every morning whenever you’re on the way to your class to now actually cooking with Mark Lee in your apartment kitchen casually making ramen together.

You weren’t sure how you got here.

But let’s not question it, you thought.

Mark casually chops spring onion into thin slices as you drain the ramen out the water and then slowly put them into two bowls: one for you and one for mark.

Mark sees you opening the sauce packets and pour the sauce over the noodles in the bowls. He brings out the chopsticks and walks to the fridge humming.

“Now let’s see what drinks you have in the fridge.” He’d look inside the fridge and he sees the options looking very sad and bleak.

He looks at you from the side. “Really? No juice except for water?”

You thinly smile. “If you’re going to complain how about you buy yourself juice down the store.”’

He rolls his eyes as you blatantly throw a sarcastic threat that wasn’t very, sarcastic at the same time. He grabs the cold iced water out the fridge slamming the door and walking over pouring it into one cup. He passed you it and you look up.

“For me?” You let out taking it. “Thanks. You’re not so bad as i thought.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughs.

You shrug smirking grabbing the bowl to take it inside the living room. The boy follows you from behind with his very own plate of the noodles in and you put the tv on letting it play in the background.

As you guys ate in peace occasionally you guys spoke asking each other questions about the most random things.

It started off asking about the weirdest thing that happened to you.

You both answered each other, guess it was fate?

“I really envied you Mark.” You boost as you dig your chopsticks into the ramen eating. Mark couldn’t really understand how you can envy him, but he always had a feeling you were out to destroy him for whatever reason.

You guess he now knows how you truly felt. You were filled with jealousy and hate because he in your eyes was probably the most perfect person out. The ideal student. The ideal son. The ideal husband for a woman. You kinda grew a sour taste in your mouth ever since meeting him but you feel now perhaps it could be a sweeter one where you don’t have to actively hate each other.

Mark sat there watching you eat but he really doesn’t know how you could be there envying him when you are there sitting looking effortlessly pretty on the face overall eating ramen, at home while you’re equally smart too.

“Do you need help with that?”

He would ask pointing to the hair that keeps falling down into your food everytime you lower your face to take a bite from the chopsticks. You were caught by surprise when Mark’s hands moves closer rolling up your long hair around his fists like a ponytail and lets you take a clean bite on the ramen. You chew happily smiling and Mark felt a sort of happiest seeing you eat with a wide smile.

You look back at him seeing how he stayed still holding your hair in his hands, rolling it up so nicely. You never told him to do that, but he did it anyways.

You guess it must be the side effect of being a worldwide super hero. You have to help others without asking.

Your eyes take a moment to appreciate Mark up close. It’s a rare moment given, so you didn’t waste time taking all the small details about his handsome face.

Yes, he is handsome. You have to give him that.

Mark saw the way your eyes fell on his lips and then back to his eyes going in a circle trying to see where you can look. It’s like you can’t keep a straight eye contact with him at the same time, you don’t have to look at his lips to be obvious.

It wasn’t long till his deep timber voice brought you back to reality where your bodies closeness was still there awaiting for sign movement. “Earth to Y/n?” He softly chuckles seeing you break apart.

You look up at him. “You zoned out on me Y/n.” He beams lightly watching you put the chopsticks down. You clear your throat.

“Sorry.” You reply with a smile, your attention goes back onto Mark no matter what. He’s a magnet for your eyes.

“Must be my handsome face distracting you.” It was a joking quote but little did he know it was exactly why you’re zoning out. Because of his handsome face and you weren’t sure how to reply until you’d roll your eyes over scoffing out as if that could ever happen.

You hum. “So you’re crazy and delusional.” You quote back and Mark smirks turning to you giving you a little nudge.

“All the best people are, honey.” He throws.

You sometimes wonder how did he get such quick comebacks for everything you’ve got to say it’s like he’s a complete generator ready and made to defeat you at every word on the end.

He has to have the last word.

“Honey?” You said back surprised to know he used such a given nickname.

He looks at you smiling as he ate more of the ramen. You felt your cheeks grew slightly pink.

‘Honey.’ You repeated.

Your attentions were soon moved to another conversation you two ended up bringing in and it was about your class. Of course the thing you’re both seriously insane about and you could tell this would be a whole war between you two.

But somehow this was different at the same time it wasn’t too. You both were disagreeing and debating argument but now you are talking with it like normal people. You’re not avoiding him.

Mark enjoys seeing you debate with him.

He loves a good challenge and a different point of view too.

“Right so you’re telling me you’d rather be in surgery than a cataract operation?” Mark couldn’t believe you’d rather chose the most stressful option of the day, he was leering at you shaking his head.

An operation leaves you more free loaded work to do meanwhile surgery can go wrong many ways because it has more people involved.

You strain out. “Of course. Surgery is more important than an operation.”

“So you’d take one for the team no matter what the outcome is?”

You shrug. “I either come out as a hero or come out as a failure.” You smirk out. “But we both know I only take wins so, I will never come out as a failure.”

You’re too much of a perfectionist to come out as a failure surgeon in a surgery.

“You’re too confident for your own good.” He stated with a laughter and you smirk watching Mark. “Of course i am. What is there about me that’s not good?”

For a minute Mark was told to look at you trying to figure out a flaw but he could not. He trails down capturing every little figure detail on your face which made his heart skip a beat and he wore it on his sleeve when he answers you truthfully, staring at your lips beginning to list out your features like he was drunk on them.

“You have perfect kissable lips, beautiful eyes…” he stops himself halfway through, he wanted to compliment your hands, saying how easy they fit into his when that night he held you.

“I have kissable lips?” You blurt out.

Mark awkwardly pauses looking away. God he shouldn’t of said that.

“No- I mean- yes— wait god no. What am I saying.”

You move closer and he flinches at your sudden movement pulling the man closer your mouth closes the gap and he can feel your lips slowly kissing him enough to give Mark the confidence for his arms to slowly wrap them underneath your body lifting you falling. He falls back on the couch with you on top kissing him with so much powerful he had no idea you were feeling this way, he felt your emotions, every bit and one of them. The kiss spoke a million words that you wanted to say with your voice but couldn’t. Mark’s hands caress down your back roaming under your shirt feeling your warmth body than they slip down groping your ass.

You press harder into the kiss you share with the man underneath you when he grabbed it giving it a tight squeeze on your round and perfect shape ass. He could die from how perfect your body is, a hourglass that could leave him dead on the train tracks. He loves every inch of you it’s to die for.

His voice strains past the red lips achingly adding. “God you’re fucking perfect, Y/n.” You loved hearing him moan from just a single kiss.

You’d wonder what noises he’d made once he’s inside you, you were craving to know.

You were stressing on his lap freely trying to undress yourself as soon as possible however you were struggling with the buttons and Mark couldn’t help but smile watching your fingers slip away. He slowly moves on the shirt unbuttoning you sensually while eyeing you up and down.

You felt your face grow red when you saw how he was watching you so intensely you weren’t even aware. Mark captured a kiss on your lips. “You looked like you needed help.”

You smirk on the short lived kiss. He slid off your shirt revealing your shoulders and your cleavage between your bra on. He swore he loves every part of you, even your chest looks out of this world. Every little detail about you turns him on.

It was magical in a way what you do to him.

Mark lays you down putting one hand between your spine undoing your bra uncoupling it with just one hand and you felt it go loose as he stripped the rest of you spreading his mouth down your chest now. Kicking between your nipple folds and kissing your breasts so tenderly, fondling them. You were arching your back grinding your stomachs together as you were rolling out your soft moans.

The next thing you knew it his mouth was around your pelvis slipping out your panties to the side and pressing the thin tip of his tongue on your folds through the panties you couldn’t help but watch yourself fold down, apart, sideways — every position freaking possible you were in. Mark loved seeing you break down for only his mouth wait until he fucks you for real.

He made sure his mouth left you wet and warm, he also made sure you would come and give him a taste of yourself because he’s not going to fuck you until you do exactly that.

You moan into your hand when you felt his teeth gently brush on your sensitive clit and your body clutch onto the couch flatly as Mark pinned a hand on your stomach hitching inside with each ragged finger inside your hole or when overstimulating you with his tongue you took the largest breathe inside. Everytime you did so his hand on your stomach felt it and he loved seeing and feeling your body tense up from all the ways he’s eating you out, like he was practically starved for you, made for you to do this to you. You loved the fact that his nose rests flat on you sometimes because he loves to see you above as he eats you out underneath.

He loves seeing your head fling back or your eyes roll back. He loves seeing your hair become a brush out mess and your neck veins popping out from how much you’re withdrawing your moans or you’re stuttering out your noises like they were broken recording tapes you would listen back on to.

Mark felt your wet leaning pussy throb and his eyes lit up seeing you moan higher. He knew you were close now and you’re running away from it.

He however, was not letting you go run.

You moan loudly. “Fuck-fuck I’m going to come.”

Mark muffles against your leaking hole pushing his tongue further deep now enough to stretch between your folds in a circular motion you shake your thighs uncontrollably. “Don’t run away from it now honey.” Mark wanted to taste you finally.

Without you knowing what’s to come next Mark’s fingers roughly entering you hitting the g spot loosely stretching your walls out in places you’ve never known could be done before and then his tongue was stuck on your clit going on and on like a running wheel on a car. Non stop driving you to your maximum speeds and mileage you couldn’t handle so much at once, especially his fingers, they felt too good to be true. He knew how to work with them, it’s like he will never catch you slipping. He had, spidery senses where he could just make you come on his fingers with just one movement.

Snap…

It’s all he needed to see when he saw you spew on his fingers right there and then wetting them with your pussy juices. He brought them out momentarily licking them clean and you watch him before he retract them back inside you seeing you moan out loud when he did so.

“Fuck, Mark….” You blabber.

You’re already so out of it and Mark can’t help but think how you’ll look and sound when his cock is in the picture with you.

He dug inside your pussy with his fingers humming down loving to see your juices come in and out. “You’re so… sweet tasting.” He trails loving you on his taste buds more than he anticipated.

“Can’t wait to feel you come undone on my cock.” And that’s when you felt your world splitting into two as he said this getting out the erected cock in front of you. You let your mouth spit on his tip massaging it with your saliva and Mark groaning out as he positions his tip to your aligning entrance, you felt the anticipation kill you till you feel a large wound coming in and pulling you widely apart.

You’re underneath Mark gazing into his eyes as you held on the side to his arms for support. You began to clench your eyes tight to adjust to him fully, who the heck knew he was going to be this big?

You didn’t see it coming until now you’re feeling it coming.

You were mourning for your grave the minute your done with him you’ll going to be the first person to have troubles walking after getting fucked out by your saviour Spiderman. You weren’t expecting it for him to be good in bed now too — you arch your back slowly when Mark starts thrusting as he feels you taking the shape of his cock. Your body was following him so well he feel like you were the perfect match for a rhythm player.

Mark could feel everything about you as much as you feel everything about him. His cock pumping you up until you will be ready to come undone chasing your high, or should in this case be highs. Mark was making sure you come out of here with so much drain energy that you will get lost counting the times you came in the scene. You knew he was making you feel the ultimate pleasure he can produce and you, you were shocked he could go on so much.

He loves seeing your stomach take an image of his manhood deep working inside. He loved the sight more than he should’ve because next he’s ramming in you to see a rougher sight of his cock hitting your stomach.

You were there arching constantly wondering how did he find the most sensitive places for your body, even yourself you never knew this could make you become a moaning mess under him.

He loves see your face scrunch up whenever you moan his name. He loves to hear your voice and to feel your words reach his heart.

Next thing you know, you’re the one becoming a blabbering fool who’s going on about how good he feels and how amazing he’s fucking you out till you lost your mind. Mark wants to tell you he knows, because he can feel every inch of you clenching his cock wanting to milk him dry within you nonstop. You want this to become a limitless.

Limitless moment with him.

Mark groans clutching your pelvis down. “I’m going to…!”

He couldn’t finish his sentence faster than his body. You hold your breath as you felt him snap finally inside you feeling a pair of warm fluid inside your body and you achingly put a hand on his shoulder as he was breathing heavily against your neck.

You could sense his heartbeat and your own too, Mark loves the sound of yours matching his. It made this moment somehow more memorable and special.

You tiredly close your eyes sighing out.

“So, Spiderman how do you feel about a date?”

Mark couldn’t believe his ears until he lifts his fave away from your neck staring into your eyes.

He might be becoming a fool for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Please reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out. <3

[curiositydooropened]

Wildfire • Spark

After a less-than-ideal first week in training with your new partner on the sparring mats and in the swimming pool, it's time to flex your skills on the Scorch course. When Eddie discovers terrifying evidence to the face you saw in the swimming pool, you learn a bit more about what it means to be Flayed. Harrington learns some truths about the day Vickie died. 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 9,765

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slooooowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter One: Ember • Chapter Three: Ignite

---

NOW

August 1988

Indiana thunderstorms came in soft and slow, the call of wind and blooming, teal clouds. They wet tarmac and corn fields first. A cascade of large drops that melted against windshields and abandoned shopping carts. Then came the downpour, hail and rain that ricocheted off tin roofs, just beyond the safety of underpasses and covered porches. 

Before the world opened up, you delighted in them. You and Vickie, in matching raincoats, would run into the street and spin and spin until the world wet fuzzy and your teeth chattered. You’d laugh and dive into puddles, soaking your canvas shoes and the socks underneath. You’d sing and play until dad warned you about lightning strikes and called you inside. You’d shriek in delight under the warmth of your covers while electricity buzzed the power out. 

And after, you peered beyond the safety of double paned glass and watched, watched for red lightning, for ash, for tell-tale signs that you weren’t right-side up. Your breath fogged the glass in front of you, arms crossed over your chest. The massive cloud, in its slow approach, shadowed the far end of the asphalt, faded yellow parking spots shining wet. 

“Hey,” a voice startled your focus, and you turned to see Eddie, brows furrowed, leaning against the left side of his walker. “I need to show you something.” 

Something urgent in his tone, laced with concern, almost had you forgetting the storm outside, but a voice on the wind called your name and you turned your attention back out the window one last time, watching the cloud loom in teals and greys. A large flash lit up the sky, sheet lightning, blinding white. You startled.

Eddie led you down darkened halls, everyone busying themselves in separate dorms or a rec room somewhere, out and away from the storm outside. He didn’t try to make small talk, or manage any of his signature quips. His silence only perpetuated the static you felt on the back of your neck, the breath that chilled you to your core.

“In here,” he gestured to a doorway marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, and you reached for the handle to push it open. You glanced around the empty hallway, checking for some sort of surveillance, before following him into a room lit only by a single television, it buzzed with that same static. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, pulling up the rolling seat Eddie gestured to before he popped a tape into a deck. 

“Wheeler copied this for me, and erased the original. So if we get caught, we’ve officially tampered with government property.” As if that was an explanation.

“We?” You tried to get comfortable in the chair, suddenly feeling eyes on you from all angles. 

Eddie reached forward and hit play, and the sound of the tape winding preceded the screen going black. Then, slowly, banks of lights were being turned on, and you recognized the pool, however many stories below you now. Harrington took several strides before dumping his rucksack poolside. Then, he busied himself around the room, checking levels and cleaning where he could. 

“Eddie,” you swallowed. “What is this?” 

Eddie responded by hitting fast-forward, and you watched as Harrington stripped from his day clothes and jumped into the pool. He did a few laps, quite a few, before squeezing the chlorine water from his hair and got dressed again. Eddie hit the button once more, and Harrington waited around for quite a while before the doors swung open again, and you arrived. Eddie hit play. 

The video was silent, but you’d seen it all play out, you’d been there. You watched Harrington drop the brick. You watched yourself strip to your underwear. 

“We can fast-forward,” you instructed, clearing your throat as you tried not to dwell on the pudge around your middle, the unflattering angle of the security footage. 

Eddie did as instructed, and you watched yourself go through your trials, Harrington spurring you on. Until Harrington jumped back in, and you knew what you were looking for.

“There, stop.”

Eddie paused. The freeze frame was blurred with static, the edges of the camera blurred with mist and condensation. The ripple of water took up the lower half of the frame. Your head was barely above water, mouth agape to take one final gulp. And there was no one on the tiles. 

“Watch,” Eddie muttered, playing frame-by-frame. His fingertip stretched to the screen, pointing for you to keep your eyes on the steel double doors. And you watched, in horror, as they swung open. Exactly as you remembered.

Only, no one entered. No one walked to the edge of the pool to smile down at you. No one was watching. It was all in your head. 

“So what? A draft?” You prayed. 

“That far underground?” Eddie hit play, and you watched the door swing on its hinges for only a moment. Then, your limp body was being hauled upright, a dark bead in the water must have been the blood from your head (the dull ache hadn’t quite disappeared). Harrington lifted you onto the tile and leapt up after you. 

Your best friend paused the video and turned to face you, half of his face glowing blue in the light, features gaunt, terrified. “Have you heard his voice?” 

You knew who he meant. 

“Have you heard the chime of a clock? Have you been seeing things other than Vickie? Hearing things?” He was frantic now, hands tangled in curls, good knee bouncing. 

You clutched his thigh to stop the movement. “Ed, stop. He’s dead. Eleven killed him. He’s not coming back.” 

“We don’t know that,” he shook his head.

“We do,” you nodded, though you weren’t sure which of you needed to hear it more. “We know that he’s gone, and I’m not hearing voices. I’m not hearing chimes. It’s just her, and it’s just PTSD or whatever bullshit Linda’s telling me, okay?” 

“Then what’s with the door?” He gestured back to the screen. 

You didn’t know, and you didn’t love the pit growing in your stomach, that lingering feeling of being watched. You tried to push it out, force it down, but couldn’t manage to answer Eddie more than a shrug. “Wheeler’s not going to tell Hopper, right?” 

“Nah,” Eddie scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “I sold him pot last week. He owed me.” 

You snorted. 

The tape was ejected, static buzzed on the television once more, the screen illuminated in blues and grey. “I’ll keep ahold of this until we show Steve.” 

Your stomach sunk further. You swallowed. “What?” 

Your name left his lips in a scold you haven’t heard since you were in high school. “You have to tell Steve. He’s your partner, and if this shit is the asshole we hope it isn’t, we’re all in danger. He deserves to know.”

You avoided his gaze, running a tired hand down your face. 

“If you don’t tell him, I will.” 

—

The heat was oppressive, humidity that stuck your clothes to your skin and wet the hair at your temples. The plastic mask surrounding your nose and mouth was fogged, and you peeled the suction from your skin, letting it dangle around your throat to rub sweat from your eyes. You winced at the burn and peered ahead at the giant concrete structure before you, bathed in the neon orange rays of the setting sun. 

The Scorch practice building wasn’t much more than concrete and rebar, four levels high with no roof. There were no glass in the windows, just holes shaped into the four sides with views of stairwells and open rooms. It was about as dark and desolate as any structure in the Ether, and just as imposing. 

“20:04,” Harrington spoke beside you, voice muffled by the mask around his face, sweat sticking his hair likewise to his tanned skin. He was looking at the watch around his wrist, and you did the same to yours, clarifying his time as second hand ticked. “Twenty minute run.” 

You nodded and placed the mask back over your features, the elastic too tight around your skull. You adjusted your fuel pack next, a thirty pound tank that slipped against your tank top at the slick of your back. You tightened the shoulder straps and buckled the strap at your chest, constricting your bosom even tighter.

You and Harrington pulled the hoses from their holsters simultaneously and stepped forward into the abandoned building, and it was like stepping back into that world.

The structure had been manufactured for these purposes, faux vines made of rubber tubing stretched across the surfaces, outward and upward, curling like they would in the Ether. You weren’t to step on them, weren’t to let them know of your presence as you made your way through the building looking for bigger things, darker worries, greater enemies. Trainers would rearrange it after each run, a new horror around new corners. 

You had every iteration memorized. Muscle memory kicked in the moment your heavy boot went over the threshold. Finger on the trigger, the sound of your breath in your mask, you curved to the North, around the first corner into a room staged as the kitchen. They like it cold.

No lights, only an island covered in the charred remains of fruit and tin cans, vines melted to fixtures that had been stolen from once-happy homes. From the corner of your eye, Harrington side-stepped to round the refrigerator, but you knew it’d be too obvious. 

“Clear.” He instructed, two fingers saluting to proceed into the formal dining space.

You shook your head and flicked open a blackened corner cabinet. You managed to dodge an egg as it rolled from its perch and onto the countertop. There, you hit the trigger. A surge of energy burst down the length of your arm, bright orange and white hot, like Vickie’s hair and autumn nights and agony, screams and cries of agony and the shatter of your heart and -

“Good job,” Harrington affirmed as he passed you, something unforgiving in his tone, something trepidatious.

You swallowed back the fear crawling up your esophagus and followed.

Harrington discovered a nest in the dining room, two dogs watching television, and another egg sack at the top of the stairs to the next floor. You hadn’t pulled your trigger again, letting him get the kill as you followed on, clearing bedrooms and hallways up to floor three, your heart pounding against the mask, sweat blurring your vision. 

A demogorgon waited, split through the walls of an upper floor bedroom, made of vinyl and something else toxic, and Harrington laid into it, spreading fire across the ceilings and concrete bookshelves, and the fire licked at your cheeks and forehead too hot, too close, too much. 

“Harrington!” You roared over the sound of his machine buzzing, flame thrown from his grasp. 

He took his hand off the trigger and looked back at you with furrowed brows, sweat striping the dirt across his features. 

You shook your head and gestured to the fresh char marks, the fizzle of embers against the stone. “It needs to be more contained. You spread it that much in the Ether, the whole structure’s coming down on you.”

“I’m trying to be thorough,” he argued, rubbing at his own stinging eyes. 

You continued to shake your head. “Thorough doesn’t always mean safe. You wait for it to jump out of the wall, then you scorch it.” 

“If it gets down here, it has a higher chance of killing me,” he propped his hand on his hip. 

You rolled the side of your tank top up to expose a long, spindly scar on your hip bone that you knew continued down your thigh. “Get clawed or get killed. Keep it contained.” 

The words echoed around your own skull, a buzz like nicotine or caffeine, something sharp and spiky that hadn’t left the jitter in your hand since you first pulled the trigger, since you stepped foot in here. Those muscle memories, all those hours training fellow toy soldiers, fuel strapped to their backs, the sickly sweet stench of lighter fluid, the only thing you’d ever felt you were meant to do.

You left Harrington fogging up his mask, back to the wall, feet avoiding the vines on the ground like they were second nature, like you’d always known where they were because you put them there. You turned into a bathroom, pulled open the cabinet under the sink. “Clear,” you shouted before scurrying into the final room. 

A demodog decoy stood on the bed, flower-shaped head bared, legs squat. A hatchet was stuck through his middle. Your finger tugged the trigger, second-nature, the surge of energy a warm, familiar buzz against your forearm, the breath on your tongue metallic. You’d been born for this. Keep it contained.

“The rest of this floor is clear,” Harrington’s gruff tone filled your space again, a jostle of your pack indicating he was too close. If you were fire, Harrington was water, a quench of cold rigidity that doused that which ought to have been fanned within you, that need to burn. 

You followed him for the final climb, these walls cast in pinks and reds and oranges, the twilit sky looming beyond. A breeze trickled in, cooling the sweat that lined your décolletage. You licked salt from your upper lip, burned remnants of paper and cloth crunched beneath your feet.

The hall split in two, doorways littering either side, tattered vines, sun-stained pale grey, bathed in red, trailed up the walls, flapping in the breeze.

“South,” you called out, and Harrington nodded, turning right when you turned left. Your packs knocked against one another. 

Room one was clear. Room two was clear. You heard Harrington call similarly from the hall, and the sound of fire scorching something he had found in his third room. You edged your way around the corner and into the final open space. There, you found five mannequins. 

Stood in perfect formation was a family, two parents and three children. The paleness of their skin had all been blackened around the edges. Some limbs were missing: the smallest one teetering on one leg, the mother missing an arm. Faces were in various stages of melt, dark grimaces on misshapen heads. One of the children remained eerily in tact. Her eyes glowed blue, hair a shock of red, smile twisted in delight, the strap of her blue tank top slipped down a melted shoulder.

“What the fuck is this?” Harrington’s voice was unmuffled, and when he stepped into your periphery, you saw he’d pulled his mask down to hang loosely around his neck.

You swallowed and held your weapon at your side. The red haired girl stared back at you, unblinking. “They’re flayed.” 

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” He scoffed, adjusting his pack, bumping you with his elbow.

You shook your head. You’d been the one to set it up, Vickie’s suggestion, pulling mannequins from the old mall site. Trainees needed to practice. They didn’t know what they’d be up against, or who. You swallowed. “Put your mask back on.” 

“What? No. We aren’t burning them.” 

“We can’t risk contamination.” You thought of the video tape, of the face above the water, of that gnawing on your skull where you impacted the tiles. 

“Contamination? They’re mannequins. Have you lost your mind?” 

Maybe you had. You licked your lips, tried to ignore the shadow looming just beyond the figures, just beyond the girl with the red hair and the smiling face, just beyond the memories of Vickie’s screams, the taste of ash, the smell of flesh. “If you can’t do it in here, how can I trust you to do it out there?” 

“Eddie survived,” Harrington argued, and suddenly the buzz in your skull silenced, a splash of ice cold water to your bones. You were drowning in it, the disdain that dripped from his tongue. 

You turned to face him, pulled your own mask from your face. “You know he’s an exception. We don’t know how he got out.”

“But he did,” Harrington’s jaw was clenched stone-tight, he wasn’t looking at you. “He survived. He was flayed, and we got him out.” Everything that wasn’t said was caught in between words, context oozing with mistrust, with the truth he believed about you, about Her.

“Well, she couldn’t have been saved,” you spat, that vine crawling itself up and out of your chest, like fire and agony and screams. “By the time I found her, she had a hole in her chest the size of my arm. There was black shit spilling out of her mouth. She was -” You couldn’t breathe, eyes blurred with sweat and red hot sunlight, the heat was suffocating, the smell of smoke and ash.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tried to will away the images of her begging for help, pleading for you to end it, telling you they knew, they saw, telling you it was time because if you didn’t kill her, they’d know where to find you, all of you. She was a spy. 

When you opened your eyes again, Harrington looked pale, nostrils flared, stone faced, but processing the horrors you let slip. You felt a modicum of triumph at knowing he’d experienced even a sliver of it, a piece of it broken from you and transferred as a weight to his shoulders now too. Consider it a bonding experience. 

You glanced down at the ticking hands of the watch on your wrist and said, “20:25. Twenty-one minutes. Mission failed.” Before you shouldered away from him and back down the stairs, ignoring the lingering itch over your right shoulder, that presence that reared its head all the times you wanted to be left alone.

—

The halls were eerily silent on Scorch days, when the majority of the team had been sent from the building in twos to repel through gates and torch the boundaries of another dimension. You weren’t used to the silence, having spent nearly two years on those vehicles, adrenaline pumping and back aching from the weight of your pack. The past four months had been spent outside the War Room, pacing, waiting for an inch of hope, an eavesdropped morsel of what was going on down there. 

Today was no different, nursing stale coffee from a styrofoam cup, watching blips on a fuzzy radar screen from behind several panes of glass. At one point, you’d made eye contact with Hopper, frown creased between his brows and beneath his mustache, and he shooed you away with his hand. 

You’d memorized the names on the call sheet, muttering silent prayers that they’d all make it back safe, unscathed, untethered. Harrington’s words echoed in your mind, louder and louder as the day progressed and your legs grew weary of propping you against concrete walls and linoleum floors. His insinuation that Vickie could have been saved hung heavy on your shoulders like the straps of a fuel pack.

Eddie sat with large headphones over his ears, scribbling things onto notebook paper, wrapping his eraser against the page in a way that made you wonder if he was listening to radio frequencies or heavy metal music. You knew it calmed him, knew it brought him back from Vecna’s grasp. 

You tried not to think of the song that left your chapped lips, the rough scratch of your vocal chords against the ash and ruin as you tried to bring Vickie back to you, back to the light. 

You rubbed at tired eyes and pulled yourself off the wall and continued to pace. You thought of Harrington again, of the look on his face when you’d shared your truth about Vickie, of the obstinance you received when teaching him how to properly scorch, of the sass he spewed ad nauseam. You rolled your eyes and glared back through the glass at the balding patch on the back of Hopper’s head. 

The scuffle of feet startled you from your thoughts, and you spilled cold coffee down your forearm. You looked up from the splash on the floor to two gangly teens who rounded the corner with hushed whispers and hands in the pockets of their tactical pants. They seemed twice as scared of you as you were of them. 

The Wheeler kid’s eyes went wide like saucers when he recognized you, and the tips of his nose and cheeks flushed a deep red. Remembering the tape he procured for Eddie, you fumbled to speak and ended up sandwiching your tongue sharply between your molars. 

“Hi,” Will Byers attempted to diffuse the tension with the quirk of his smile, and you swallowed back the saliva flooding your mouth. 

“Hi,” you managed to wince through the pain and toss your scrunched styrofoam into a nearby trash can, wiping your forearm on your pant leg.

“Any news?” Wheeler managed, scratching at the back of his neck. The boys approached the glass and peered in. 

“No. Your siblings out there?” You asked, as if you didn’t already know, as if Nancy and Jonathan hadn’t replaced you and Vickie as Scorch team leaders, as if you hadn’t watched Nancy zip her tac vest and tie her laces. 

“Yeah.” Joyce turned from her spot and caught her son’s face outside the glass. Her weary smile showed so imminent danger, and she flexed her fingers in a wave. 

Will waved back, relief relaxing broad shoulders. “No news is good news.” Then, he turned to you. “So, how are you? How’s training with Steve?” 

You swallowed and glanced back at Wheeler. Suddenly, the bean pole found something on the floor very interesting. You sighed and lied through your teeth. You’d done it with Linda, why not the Byers kid too? “Yeah, great. Harrington’s a really hard worker. He’s a good asset for our team.” 

“Jesus, you guys script that?” Wheeler snorted. Will elbowed him in the ribs. 

“We talked to Steve earlier today,” Will explained. “He had similar nice things to say about you. Seems like a good match.” 

You nodded, the words that once would have flipped your stomach now souring the taste in your mouth. Or maybe that was the blood pooling from your tongue. 

“We better get back to El,” Wheeler bounced on the balls of his feet, elbowing Byers back. He offered you a bored nod and started back down the hallway. 

Will pushed off from the window with another understanding smile. He’d nearly followed his friend around the corner before you heard the squeak of his sneakers as he paused and turned around. “Hey, I’m really sorry, by the way. About Vickie.” 

Your stomach lurched, the flash of fire and screams echoed in your mind’s eye. 

“I’m here if you ever you know, need to talk to someone.” 

Eddie survived. Eddie survived and so did Will. Will Byers, Zombie Boy, the original spy, the reason for all of this. You swallowed back the bile surfacing and tried to will your eyes to focus on the features of his face, but your mind was reeling with information. You just nodded and somehow managed to croak out a thank you. 

“See you around,” Will waved and stepped slowly away.

—

Harrington was a wall of meat, the slap of skin to skin, gulps and gasped breaths, heaving chest, sweat trickling down the column of his neck, sticking wild hair to the sides of his face. His jaw was tight, brown eyes black as he watched you down the scar-split bridge of his nose. His fists were clenched, the muscles of his forearms and biceps glistening under the fluorescents.

You huffed, grit your teeth, and swung on him again. You felt the whoosh of air brush your knuckles as he, once again, dodged your throw. You squared your shoulders, pivoted on your back leg, watched for weakness. 

You found it in an open-mouthed exhale, a moment of respite on his end, a wheeze through salvia-slick lips, and you swung on him again, your knuckles cracking against his collar bone. 

He cursed, backed off, rolled his shoulders, massaging the bruising bone.

“Ouch, that had to hurt!” Eddie cheered you on from the sidelines, balanced on a stool just off to the right of the sparring mat.

Harrington didn’t appreciate the commentary. He made that explicitly clear with a side-eye to the audience for every quip. 

You waited for him to square up again, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists ready. You swung and he dodged, catching you on the backside with a jab to your kidneys. You stumbled, but otherwise felt no pain. You huffed in frustration. 

“Steve, you’re pulling your punches.” Jonathan spoke freely from his spot beside Eddie. He sported a bright red burn mark on his left temple, but otherwise managed to return from the Scorch unscathed.

Harrington’s fists dropped to his side, and he fully turned his attention to the crowd. “Will you two get out of here?” 

You took the pause in momentum to get a drink, quenching your dry throat with a spray of water. You swished it, lukewarm, against your molars before swallowing.

“He’s right. You’re taking it too easy on her.” You flipped Eddie the bird, and he grinned back at you, dimple exposed, hair shaggy in front of mischievous eyes.

“Believe me, I’m not,” Harrington argued, cracking his knuckles beneath un-torn athletic tape. 

“You are, though,” you piped up from your spot, readjusting the torn edges of your own tape. The adhesive had all but slipped from sweat-slick wrists, and had more than cracked from your knuckles on your right side. 

“What?” He snapped, unimpressed, hands to his hips like a mom at a kid’s dance recital.

You shrugged, let your water bottle slip from your hand back to the ground. “I barely felt that last one.” 

“Yeah! A love tap,” Eddie argued for you. “She’s been hit harder than that in the bedroom.” 

“Okay,” you cut him off, feeling the buzz of embarrassment tickle at your chest. You pointed at the grinning idiot on his stool. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Strategizing to win this war?”

Eddie made a face of mock confusion, though it wasn’t convincing past the grin of delight that he’d gotten under your skin. “No… no, that doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Come on, man,” Byers snorted, patting Eddie’s shoulder as he stood from his own stool. “Let’s leave these two alone. Maybe he has stage fright.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Harrington scoffed, earning bright grins from both of the chuckleheads. 

Byers helped Eddie from his seat and muttered something under his breath. You couldn’t quite hear it from your distance, but you caught something about owing Nancy money.

Eddie caught your eye from over his shoulder, expression suddenly changed to something much more serious. He eyed you and then Harrington, an unspoken question that had your stomach lurch. 

You shook your head and warned him with your eyes. Now wasn’t the place nor the time to tell your new partner about the encounter you’d had in the pool. In fact, you hadn’t seen anything else all week, too preoccupied with intense training hours. You and Harrington had an unspoken truce. Nothing was said. Punches were made, laps were swam, decoys were set ablaze, and not a word had been shared between you. 

Eddie gave you one more warning glance before settling his shoulders and pasting his smile back onto squirrely features. “Well, I’d ask you not to kill each other, but I don’t think Harrington has the balls.” 

Harrington rolled his eyes at the quip, and you waved Eddie off, waiting until he and Jonathan had made significant distance before turning your focus back to your partner. You found yourself glancing over their shoulders at the large steel door, half-expecting it to burst open. 

“What was that about?” He broke the truce. 

“Nothing,” you responded, tight-lipped, peeling the adhesive from your skin for one more adjustment.

“Whatever,” your partner sighed. “We done for tonight?” 

You glanced up at the big clock on the far wall. You’d been at it for just under an hour, the time slipping quickly away. You rolled your shoulders, the joints in your spine cracking. “Fine. Same time tomorrow?” You tugged on the athletic tape instead to unravel it, a bit at the back ripped some hair from your forearm.

“No.”

You sighed. “Why not?” 

“I have psych tomorrow with Robin.” Harrington’s voice was quiet, measured, as he removed the wrap from his own wrists. 

“Oh,” you swallowed, hoping that was the end of it.

“You did good today,” a compliment that should have you preening, instead felt ice cold. 

You rolled your head back to quell the chill that settled there. “Byers is right, you’re pulling your punches.”

“I know, I’ll work on it.” 

A douse of cold. You blinked back at him, but he refused to make eye contact. He just grabbed his water bottle and walked off the mat. 

—

A charcoal sky flashed crimson. Something called in echo, a signal for others of its kind, a signal to the hive. Your throat itched, nostrils burned, eyes stung, ears rang. Your palms, slick with sweat, gripped a railing to pull you upward, knees weak. You weren’t prepared, couldn’t catch your bearings. You didn’t recognize anything, endless trees and vines. You couldn’t make out any landmarks, couldn’t find yourself, couldn’t find anyone. 

Then you heard a voice, felt it really, booming, deep, yet familiar. It chilled you, quelled your thirst. His voice, Steve’s voice. You turned to find him stumbling out of the woods toward you, legs weak beneath him. You caught him, clutched the lapels of his vest, screamed his name. 

“Help me,” he whispered. “He’s got me. You have to help me.” 

You scrambled frantically, called over your busted walkie to receive no response. 

Steve sputtered. Black ichor fell from pink lips, tipped down his chin and stained the front of his shirt. 

You screamed. 

His lips curled upward then, teeth blackened, and he reached for you, hand too large to be his own. 

You pulled the trigger.

—

The load was too large, drum banging against the walls of your spin cycle as your clothes rinsed of ash and grime and blood. You’d woken from your nightmare with a nosebleed, something you’d grown accustomed to in the past few months. You’d shed your sheets, your pillow case, knowing you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.

The detergent smelled stale, but the water seemed hot enough to rid your clothes of their stains, and the loud beat of metal was enough to silence the dull thud in your skull. Your eyes blurred on the steady shake of washing machine, and your throat was dry from the screams you’d undoubtedly released in your sleep.

It wasn’t the first night terror, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last, all of them flavored with the same dystopian horror that tainted your waking life. Sometimes Vickie would be herself, you forced to live out the worst moments of your life again and again and again night after night. Sometimes, Vickie would be replaced with your mom, your dad, Robin, Eddie. Harrington made his first cameo the night Hopper announced you’d be partners. 

Sleepless nights were spent up in bed, reading a single page of a book dozens of times, only managing to focus on a sentence or two. You’d take yourself to the track and run into your legs jiggled. You’d tiptoe to the common area and fix yourself a bowl of cereal, Vickie’s favorite, and sob over the first bite. Once, it’d been bad enough that you’d crawled into Eddie’s bed with him. He smelled of old cigarettes and something spicy, but it was the only night you’d managed to fall asleep, knowing he’d be alive when you woke back up.

The buzz of the machine indicated you could switch, and garment by garment, you shoved your items into the wider drum of a stand-up dryer, one of three in the facility. You separated your sheets into another, ensuring everything would dry before the sun came up, and you slipped your coins into the slots before turning the machines on. 

Out of your periphery, the laundry room door opened. A crack at first, just enough for someone to slip in and out, and you backed yourself into the corner, watching and waiting. Maybe you hadn’t woken up, maybe you were still dreaming, maybe this is when you’d see the face smiling back at you. 

Only, Harrington entered, grime free, in fact the cleanest you’d seen him maybe ever. His hair was nicely coiffed, an old grey Member’s Only jacket shoved over broad shoulders. “Oh good,” he said, “you’re awake.”

His eyes trailed your body, scrutinizing the tactical pants you’d shoved over the breadth of your hips, the tank top, the sport’s bra holding you together underneath. That crease formed it’s way between his brows again. “You got any other clothes?” 

“In the dryer,” you gestured to the steady rhythm of the dryers.

“Okay, that’s fine. Let’s go.” He swung the door open, and you heard the stomp of his feet up the tiny staircase. 

You blinked, slow in processing from your lack of sleep, but followed him to the doorway instead. “What part of ‘my clothes are in the dryer’ do you not understand? What’s going on?”

He turned back to you, hands on his hips, and rolled his eyes. “You’re the only one I know who does their laundry in the middle of the night. If anyone steals them, there’s a hundred percent chance of finding them and shaking them down for you belongings. Now, come on.” He gestured like a pestilent child taking their mother down the toy aisle. 

You cursed, debated whether this was worth an all-out brawl, and decided to follow him, closing the door behind you.

He didn’t let you catch up, remaining a handful of steps ahead until he was leading you up, across a darkened gym floor, and out a large steel door. 

The night air coated your skin in gooseflesh. A single flood lamp illuminated the tops of a dozen or so cars in the parking lot, abandoned and unused, aluminum rusting under an ever-present cloud, sun set hours ago. The air smelled somewhat less foul, the sulphur and decay cast away on a cool breeze that brushed between your legs and pebbled your skin. You were unable to hold back a shiver. 

Harrington crossed the lot to a little maroon BMW, waving you over with an impatience only he could exude. “Hurry up, we’re on a time crunch.” 

You scurried after him, boots crunching on gravel, and waited for him to reach over to unlock your door before you opened it and settled in. “What is going on?” You asked through grit teeth, slamming the door. 

The car smelled of him, that cologne you once found intoxicating, and when the engine turned over, the speakers blared Queen’s greatest hits, and you were thrown back against plush seats as he took off, peeling out of the little parking lot and out and away from the facility. You glanced at the compound out the back window, the looming concrete structure you called home fading into the horizon. 

“Where are you taking me? Will you slow down?” You buckled your seatbelt and gripped the door handle while he shifted gears, racing along curves in backroads he’d memorized years ago. 

If he could hear you over the speakers, he acted like he couldn’t, fingers wrapping to Roger Taylor’s beat.

You had half a mind to shut the music off, to pull the emergency brake, to get him to answer you. But something in you felt more settled here than you had been for months, the warmth from the heater fanning your chest, comfortable seats, Freddie’s dulcet tones bringing you back to reality, shielding you from any more horrors. 

—

Roadie’s Roadhouse stunk of spilled beer and fried food, the sweet tang of barbecue that lured you further in and grumbled at a hungry stomach. You followed Harrington’s broad shoulders to two empty seats at the bar, behind which a rotund woman in a jean vest offered a gap-tooth smile. 

You glanced sideways at a group of pool players, balls clacking against one another atop patchy green. Steer horns coated one wall, the wall beside it collaged in autographed photos of celebrities. A blues guitarist sat lonely upon the world’s tiniest stage, picking out a wholesome tune.

Harrington cracked a wry smile, holding two fingers to the woman who was already removing the caps off two beer bottles with her bare hands.

With the chill of wind at the back of your neck from the open door behind you, a few stragglers entered whooping and hollering, slapping hands in greeting with the men playing pool. 

“You lovebirds lookin’ to eat tonight? Kitchen closes in twenty.” The woman whistled, leaning too far into Harrington’s personal bubble. He didn’t seem to mind. Your body wracked with another shudder of disgust.

“Two briskets please.” He offered a smile, sticky sweet glazed. 

“All the fixin’s?” 

He nodded. 

“Comin’ right up, sweetheart.” 

You waited for her to head to the kitchen. “Harrington,” his name fell from your lips drowning in disdain. “What the fuck are we doing here?” 

He sighed and brought the amber bottle to his lips. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he drank, wiping foam from the corners of his lips when he’d finished. He glanced at you sideways, shrugged his shoulders, and set the glass back on the bar top. “It was Robin’s idea.” 

Another gust of cold air blanketed your shoulders, and you spun in a panic. Bikers exited with raucous laughter. Your heart thundered in your chest, your skull. You weren’t ready to face her, to see the hatred in her blue eyes. Had she brought you out here for payback? Far away from the compound where no one could hear your screams?

“Hop said he wants us closer than the Sinclairs,” Harrington took another swig, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “So Robin suggested I buy you real food and ‘get to know you’.” He put the last phrase in air quotes, head tipping back with another drink.

You took a few steadying breaths to soak in what he was telling you, glanced around the room again for any sign of Robin, any sign of Vickie, any sign that you were still dreaming. “You already know me,” you scoffed, bringing your own beer to your lips. It was cheap ass beer, more water than anything else, but it satisfied that unease in your stomach, gave your hands something to do as you ran your thumbnail over the ridged bumps of the glass at its base.

“Do I?” His voice was almost imperceptible against the glass, but it struck its intended target.

And maybe he was right. You considered through the fizz of alcohol. The woman you were now was certainly different from the girl he’d once held in his arms, scarred over and changed forever. One soft and cocksure, thirsty for adventure, you were now hardened, eroded by the elements, carved into the stone hearted being that sat beside him. 

You chugged the rest of your drink, holding back a burp with the back of your hand as the fizz bubbled up, and you slid the bottle back to the lip of the counter. “What do you want to know?” You breathed. 

Harrington eyed you for a moment, and you waited under his scrutiny, staring at your own reflection in the stained mirror behind shelves of liquor bottles. 

You were nothing like the girl he’d met. Your jaw was sharper, shoulders broader, biceps sculpted and scarred. Your eyes were cold, lifeless, with permanent bags beneath them, grey etched through your hair at the temples. You were tired, ridden hard and left out to dry. 

“Do you remember Dina Lampenelli’s eleventh birthday?” 

Your brain rocketed back in time, doing hurdles over mental math to try to remember one date so many years ago. Dina had been a schoolmate of yours, K through 12, a rich-y with serious self-esteem issues. You’d responded to her bullying with a few bloody noses back in the day, a fist to her precious nostrils for being a homophobic bitch. You were the reason her mommy and daddy shelled out so much for a nose job. 

“At the skating rink?” 

You tried to will any memory to surface. The amount of hours spent at that skating rink, eyes glazed under the disco lights, speeding around and around and around, kissing boys in glow-in-the-dark corners. You swallowed, shook your head. 

“Of course you don’t,” Harrington scoffed, turning his body toward you. “You shoved me over a banister, knocked me on my face. Had to get six stitches.” You glanced to see him jut his chin upward, a thin scar pock-marked the perfect flesh there, where jaw bone met his thumb. “Should’ve known you’d be my living fucking nightmare.” 

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that spilled out, or the ignition of sparks throughout your body as you watched the corners of his mouth upturn. “Always in my way, Harrington,” you tutted, leaning against the bar while he coughed his smile away behind a large hand.

You swallowed back your own, chewed on the inside of your lip and tried to stir up memories you’d had, breezing past late nights and whispered secrets under heavy quilts and heavier intoxication. You bit back another smile, and asked, “Do you remember Samantha Hardy’s sweet sixteen?” 

Harrington’s eyes narrowed in thought, mouth hung agape.

“You hooked up with that girl,” you snapped your fingers. “Was her name Lita?”

“Letty Beaumont?” 

“That’s the one!” You nodded. You could still see the curve of the girl’s ass cheeks in the wide palms of his hands, the connection of their mouths silhouetted in moonlight. 

“We didn’t hook up,” he shook his head, a strand of hair falling into his eyes. “Some psycho tried to run us over with their car.” 

Again, you couldn’t help the aching grin that spread across your face with your nod, and you hid another wry laugh from behind your hand. “That was me.”

“What?” He didn’t look impressed, brow furrowed, mouth hung open like you’d told him you were guilty of feeding his pet hamster to your pet snake. 

You shrugged. “You guys were making out on the hood of my car, and I had a curfew.”

The bartender came back, uncapped two more bottles and slid them your direction. 

You both thanked her, and you took another long swig, all bubbles first, and then ice cold beer. The taste quenched the tingle in your fingers, the tremor of your hands with nerves at what this was, what this could be.

A prolonged silence lingered between you, almost long enough to have you panicking, that your confession would be held against you, that a he’d want to get up and leave, that you’d started another brawl, here in the roadhouse. But instead, he turned back to the bar, arm bumping yours, and asked, “How’d you get that scar on your thigh?” 

You shifted your legs on your barstool and glanced over at him. He was staring straight ahead, peeling the label from his bottle with absent fingers. 

“Demodog in the back room at Melvald’s. Had to lure it out before I scorched the room down on top of me.” 

He didn’t respond, just offered a curt nod, an unspoken tit-for-tat. He asks, you answer. Your turn. 

“Have you been to your house? On the other side?” You’d often wondered if you were alone in that, you and Vickie splitting from the party at too early a stage, stumbling into her backyard to see how it had changed, to see how the vines had devoured it. 

Harrington’s jaw turned to stone at that, eyes glazed with memory. He blinked back to reality, took a long swig, cleared his throat. “Once, with Nancy. Barbara Holland was dead in my pool.” 

You cursed into your bottle, forgot the details that had drawn them all in.

“Do you like brisket?” He asked, gesturing at the woman coming at you with two heaping plastic baskets lined with newspaper.

—

Stomachs full of brisket and beer, you stumbled past the buzzing neon of Roadie’s and onto the graveled pavement toward Harrington’s car. You waited in the cold breeze, hugging your arms to your front while he leaned over to unlock the door for you, and you hauled yourself in to the promise of heat.

Contrary to earlier’s drive, he’d reached to turn the volume down before thrusting a hand to your headrest to watch over his arm as he reversed from his parking space, slow and steady. You watched burgundy lights bounce off his jaw, the planes of his cheekbones. He caught you watching, that permanent crease in his forehead, and when he pushed the car back into first, he didn’t race himself back to the compound. He took his time. 

You’d compared war stories over sticky sweet barbecue, scar for scar. You’d bonded over the smell of lighter fluid and the acrid tang of demo-bat blood, and you’d cheersed to fallen comrades. It all felt sardonic, engorging yourselves on good times, guitar music in the background, when those you’d loved most were all gone now, burned up and tangled in vines that never went away. 

You’d noticed the dance, too, the unspoken truce, a tiptoe around questions neither of you wanted to touch, feelings you didn’t want hurt or muddled, questions you were terrified for the answer too. But somehow, darkness imposing on the countryside around you, Ether looming in your near future, you felt a little braver. 

“Harrington,” his name caught on your vocal chords, coated in something, ash. 

He hummed, and you found your eyes lulling to the sound, a warmth blanketing your chest and arms, and you remembered why you were in this mess in the first place. 

“You ever have nightmares?” 

He snorted at that, an unfriendly sound, lips curled into a grimace. “You ever have good dreams?”

“Not since,” you admitted. Not since the city split open and the sky rained ash, not since you starting training, not since you murdered your best friend. You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowed the bile that crawled its way up. 

“We have our first trial on Monday.” Harrington said after a long silence, his knuckles still wrapping a rhythm against the steering wheel, volume too low under the rumble of his engine, tires to gravel. 

The trial was your first exam, a monitored test of your teamwork. You were to go through the abandoned streets of Hawkins, Right-side Up, and prove you could work together, could communicate, could be seamless. You hummed in agreement, having no confidence in your abilities as a team. 

“I have to ask you something.” 

That plunge of cold water, the sting in your lungs, the wash, the crack of skull against tiles.

“Did you see any signs before that day? Nightmares, nosebleeds, hallucinations?” His tone remained so calm, so light, and you fought back the panic that tightened in your chest, restricting your air flow. He meant Vickie, he meant were there warning signs in Vickie, but you couldn’t help but equate them to yourself. 

You clawed at the collar of your tank top and leaned forward to turn down the heater, shaking your head, staring straight ahead at the blurring road, the silhouette of trees looming on either side. “No, not at all. If I had known, do you really think I would have let her go down there?” You hated the way your voice wavered, hated the feel of eyes over your shoulder.

“Well then how did it happen?” Again, his tone remained calm, measured. “If it didn’t happen before you left the compound, when did it happen?” He wasn’t watching you, his own eyes on the road, hands wringing the steering wheel, 2 and 10.

You swallowed, tried to stay present, tried to match your energy to his. “I lost her.” A crack. You cleared your throat, forced it back before the spillway opened. 

“What?” A little louder, a little less steady.

“That day, we were sent on a mission near Roane County, farm country. She said she was going to scorch the barn while I did the house, easy procedure. When I cleared the house, I checked the barn and she wasn’t there.” 

You could still see the roof ablaze, desaturated, sepia-toned scarlet that licked and fanned at your skin. You swore you saw her, a shock of orange through the treeline. You followed. You tripped on a root, pack heavy you fell face-first into the dirt. You scraped your knee, the meat of your palms, the soft skin where cheek met jaw. 

“Why did you split up?”

You shrugged, seatbelt suddenly too tight against your chest, air too muggy, suffocating. “We always did. We were team leaders. We got cocky.” The same answers you’d given Owens, Hopper, filing your official report.

“Why didn’t you call for help?”

“I found her quicker than I thought. She’d gone back to her old house, the one on the county line. I saw her pack outside the garage.” You bit back the rest, pressed at the blur in your eyes with the palms of your hands. Keep it contained.

“You should have called for help. You shouldn’t have split up. I don’t understand how you could have lost her? You lost her?” Harrington’s voice sped up, became as frantic as you felt. “How do you lose someone you’re supposed to be accountable for?” 

You grit your teeth. He asked as if you hadn’t been asking yourself the same questions for four months, as if you’d ever make those mistakes again. Minutes ago, he seemed so understanding, so accepting of the truths and overlaps of both of your existences, and now he’d exiled you again. 

You clung to the seatbelt and rested your head on the headrest, and didn’t say another word. You waited for the push of his foot to the gas pedal, for the sanctuary of solitude.

—

“You’re such an asshole,” Eddie scoffed from his chair beside you, shuffling his deck of cards for the twentieth time. “I can’t believe you made me your accomplice.”

You let your feet dangle from your perch on a tabletop and shrugged. “Hopper told me to wait here. You’re just keeping me safe until Harrington finds me.”

Eddie tutted, shaking shaggy hair and pulling an M&M from your outstretched palm. “Speaking of keeping you safe,” he glanced around the now-empty War Room. All higher officers had left for their dinners, leaving you two alone. “Have you told him yet?” 

“How can I tell him if it takes him,” you glanced at your watch, “four hours to do anything?”

You’d been hiding in the War Room almost as long, having managed to bum a ride back to the compound mid-trial. Harrington didn’t understand how it was easy for you to lose your last partner, so you figured you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. Hopper was more than agreeable when you’d shown back up on your own. 

Eddie smacked your thigh with the back of his hand, placing the cards facedown on the table. “I’m serious. Have you seen anything new? Heard anything?”

You sighed, shook your head, “No, I really don’t think it’s anything to be worried about. It was just a draft, a couple of nightmares, it’s fine.” 

He tilted his head to catch your gaze. “What kind of nightmares? Like the one you had? Have you told Linda?” 

You shooed him away with a hand, picked a brown M&M out of the bunch. “Yes, I’ve told Linda. It’s normal. PTSD. Remember? I assume you’ve been having them too.” 

“Not as frequently.” He argued. 

You shot him a look. 

His shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “Okay, okay. But you promised me.” 

You shifted in your seat, pouring the rest of the candy coated chocolate into his hand. You wiped the melted colors off on a pant leg. “I know. I’ll tell him. I will.” 

The walkie talkie startled you both, the sharp sound of a signal far too close, and the echoed sounds of Dustin Henderson’s frantic calls from somewhere down the hallway. “Eddie, do you copy? Eddie, is she there with you? Incoming. I repeat, INCOMING.” 

You jolted upright to see Harrington approach, Henderson hot on his heels. Eddie rolled himself a few feet away, shielded behind a pane of glass. 

Harrington looked like he’d seen better days. He was positively drenched in sweat, a soft v painting the front of his t-shirt in dark greys. His hair stuck up at odd angles, in desperate need of a cut and a wash. Grime streaked from his sideburns down his throat. Harrington rubbed at bloodshot eyes, and you noticed a tear in each of his knuckles.

“Oh, there you are.” You bit back the smile to match, sickly sweet, ignoring the sink of guilt that made its home in the pit of your stomach. 

“Is everything a fucking joke to you?” 

You swallowed back the panic, flames licking at your chest and throat and cheeks. 

“Hey, man, this was Hopper’s idea.” Eddie defended from his hiding spot. 

“You can fuck off, Munson. I’ve been calling you for hours.” Harrington pointed a finger the other boy’s direction. 

You glanced at the phone on the table from where you sat and placed the handset back on its receiver. 

That must have been the last straw. Harrington let out a strangled huff before storming past Henderson, nearly knocking the boy over, and taking off down the hall. 

Eddie whistled, and you flashed an apologetic half-smile Henderson’s direction before taking off after your new partner. You called out after him once, twice, three times. He didn’t stop, just kept going until he had shoved his way through the double doors at the end of the hall. 

You followed, a burst of humid air hitting you in the face. It was charged, static, the roll of an incoming storm. You could just make out the teal grey of the cloud overhead, just beyond the tree line. 

“Today was bullshit.” He was seething, chest moving up and down with rapid breaths, hands placed on his hips like he was ready to give you a proper talking-to. “You have no idea what I went through.”

You clenched your jaw, crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t understand how you could lose someone you’re supposed to be accountable for.” You hoped the words had hurt him as much as they’d cut you, rolling over and over in your head for the past day.

Harrington stared you down, jaw clenched, eyes a little glassy, dark. He was inches from you, you could smell the salty sweat, it mixed with the brine in the air, that ozone layer that had your skin crawling. 

Half-hearted applause startled your stand-off, and you were ripped from Harrington’s glare by the voice of your superior. Hopper rounded the corner, pulling a cigarette from the chest pocket of his shirt and placing it beneath that mustache. “Congratulations, you two. You’ve survived trial number one. Hope you learned a thing or two about communication.” 

He pulled a lighter from his pants pocket, and you watched the end burn hot orange. He took a drag and blew a billowed cloud skyward, to mix with the impending storm. “Everything good here?” 

“Yes, sir,” you flashed a smile fake enough to have the older man snort. Harrington didn’t respond.

“Good. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” And with another cloud of smoke, a pat to Harrington’s dejected shoulder, Hopper was strolling inside, whistling a merry tune. 

You both waited until you could no longer hear the squeak of rubber against linoleum, until it seemed like you were finally both alone, and you opened your mouth to snap something, but Harrington beat you to the punch, his voice calm, soft, measured. 

“I promised her I’d keep you safe.”

He wasn’t looking at you. His bloodied hand was itching at the bridge of his nose, covering half his face, and you weren’t honestly positive you’d even heard what he said. 

You leaned forward to catch his eye, instinctively reaching to tug his wrist away. “What?” 

“Vickie,” he said. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple. “The morning she died, she made me promise I’d keep you safe.” His eyes remained avoidant, finding interest in the blood on his knuckles, the touch of your hand to his forearm. 

“What? When? Why?” You were frantic, gripping his arm harder to get him to look at you, to tell you everything, pleading. Had she known? Had she know this would happen? Why him? Why then? 

He shrugged, eyes finally finding yours, warm honeyed light in the dark, a gasp of fresh air. He shook his head. “I don’t know. We were gearing up, and she pulled me aside.”

“Why -” You swallowed, tried to push back the image of her pleading, asking you to scorch her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He huffed a breath then, head shaking, hair falling into his eyes.

“What?” You grounded your heels deeper into the gravel. “You don’t think I deserved to know that about my best friend?” 

“You shut us out, remember?”

A deluge. With his words, a crack of lightning and the downpour started, big, fat, wet drops, illuminated in a stark flash of white. You jumped, suddenly crowded by Harrington’s frame as he hunched over you, doing his job, protecting you from the torrent of rain. You gripped his shirt out of instinct, pulling him into a safe hiding space just beyond the double doors. 

Another crack shuddered through the both of you, the low roll of thunder to follow, the rat-tat-tat of hail against concrete, against parked cars, against the asphalt. 

You tried to steady your breath, tried to see beyond the lightning that had stained your vision, all whites and blues. You could almost hear your name on the wind, could almost see that familiar face just beyond the glass, in the tree line, beckoning. The hand at your side, white-knuckled, rested in the heavy grasp of your partner, bloody knuckles intertwined with your own, thumb tracing calming circles to your wrist as you both stood and watched the storm. 

---

[A/N - Ooooh boy, this chapter was soooo good for me. I learned so many juicy little secrets as I wrote, and I love uncovering this story so so much. Thanks for reading, and as always, come bug me about it PLEASE! xo]

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter One: Ember • Chapter Three: Ignite

[darling-glitch]

𝑼𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓

[Tamaki Keigo]

[NSFW]

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

Reblog | Comment | Enjoy, ig

Warning! Spoilers. Slow burn. Drunken sex. Breeding sex. Desperate sex. Forgetful sex. Loveless sex. No strings attached. Plot sex. Strangers to Lovers Sex

"T-This just in..."

You were seated in your usual spot at your usual bar, subtly listening intently at what the reporter had to say.

"T-This- I can't believe- "

She kept on stuttering over her own words. It annoyed you at first, but then you realized that gasps and sobs joined the baffled reporter. Curiosity had you looking up at the screen.

"I-" she cleared her throat. "This just in. Pro Hero Hawks seems to be having a struggle fighting against League of Villains member: Dabi. The blue flames make it hard to see b- but we should only hope for the- ah!"

The reported was attacked and the camera went all fuzzy. More people in the bar started whispering and gossiping; overall worrying about their safety. Many left while others tried to drown their sorrows away with alcohol. You just sat there, finishing your drink, looking up at the fuzzing tv.

Life never was something to brag about to you. Your quirk had gotten you exactly where your parents wanted you to be. You were a graduate of medical school, supported by your Regeneration quirk. Basically, you rebuilt lost or damaged DNA.

Later that night you walked alone in the streets of rubble, shit and death. Some newbie heroes took care of the job, though it lasted hours. Hawks ended up in the hospital, wings joined in the rusty evening sky as nothing more than ashes. You'd met him before and rather enjoyed his "company". Met at the bar, a few drinks in, then woke up entangled with feathers and sheets.

A shame, really, to see such potential burn in the flames of his rival. Fuck you, she scolded Dabi for being such a dickhead.

Time skip. He was discharged about two days ago, the fight being something of the past. Weeks were wasted in the hospital where the constant reminder of his disappointment haunted him. He was told to take things easy but being sober was forcing him to nearly lose his sanity. He left for a bar. A bar he hadn't visited in quite some time, and he wasn't sure why.

Everywhere he walked people would gawk and stare. Some would even try to encourage him, but that always ruined his day even more. People pitied him now. A hero, who was supposed to save them.

Wearing a face mask and cap he took a seat at the far back. He asked for something strong and patiently waited.

"Everyone's fucking stupid," he heard you say from behind him, seated at your usual booth. At first, he didn't think you were talking to him. "Either people or blind, or luck is finally on your side." You took a sip. He glanced through the corner of his eyes, but still couldn't see you.

"What now? You gon pity me or some shit? Call me out for being such a fucking disappointment?"

"Why would I do that?" He turned his head over his shoulder and looked directly at the back of your head. "You did more than what I ever could've."

"Yet I still failed." You scoffed and downed your drink, the notified waiter refilling it within moments. "Something funny?"

"Just you thinking you're so special," you could feel him lifting his brows and twisted your head to look at him. Your arm rested atop the booths. Both your faces were really close.

"I'm not-"

"But you are," you swallowed more comfort-juice.

"I'm not-"

"But you are," he stayed quiet to avoid irritation. "Stop thinking you're so special just because some villain whooped your ass. Life happens and there's nothing you can do about it... except laugh it off and call out: 'Fuck you too'," his eyes softened after a moment's worth of pondering. Then he started to chuckle amusingly.

"Have we met?" He then asked, voice a mixture of pure depression and pure delight.

You shrugged. "You've had many, but I'm a lucky bitch who was railed by the Pro Hero Hawks." A seductive grin grinned and he lifted a brow. Your glass rested on your bottom lip and daring eyes looked up at him. "Guess you were just having a shitty day and needed some therapy."

He reached for his own drink and downed the burning liquid. "Guess you pop up exactly when I need you most, huh." You snickered and placed your empty glass down.

"Are you saying you're having a bad day?" Fuck, you were being a slut. Your finger traced circles on his shoulder, ignoring the threatening glare he sent your way. "Maybe you need some therapy."

You looked at him. Fuck, you looked at him.

And that's how you ended up under him, begging for more and pleading for him to stop. Hands clawing at his back as his mouth sucked, bit, gnawed, and kissed away at your body.

Both naked. Both steaming hot. Both already dripping with sweat. Both horny as life itself. Where exactly? He said it was his place, but you didn't quite remember it being as such. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Nothing mattered other than his slick fucking fingers stretching you out mercilessly. Your hands gripped at his hair and pulled, groans and moans syncing sexually. He added his thumb to rub your clit. Your back arched and a string of curses cursed their way out your mouth. The common stranger would never take you for being so verbal.

And you weren't. Unless it was a frustrated, animalistic horny beast busy railing you into the fucking ground. You came all over his hand, his fingers dripping soaking wet with the evidence you proved of being ready. He did that. He made you feel so good your body erupted with sensational orgasm.

"I think- I'm starting- to remember you," he spoke between sloppy kisses, ignoring his desperation for air. You kept on kissing him back.

"How so?"

He pulled away and flipped you over, forcing you into doggy style. He took a moment; a painfully short moment, just to take all of you in. "Who the fuck wouldn't remember something as incredible as you?"

Your head dropped with a childish grin. Big, rough hands tightly gripped your sides. Your heartbeat beat faster and faster at the anticipating expectation of him filling you up. You weren't a virgin when he fucked you before, but his size made you feel like tearing everything possible. It had you anxiously excited.

"Ha!" You responded to his previous statement. "You haven't seen the least of my incredibility," you boasted. Then you felt it. A massive fucking cock just brushing over your dripping cunt. It slid between your folds, massaging your clit with every up and down movement.

His chest pressed up against your back, mouth close to your ear. You felt his hot breaths. You felt his tongue wetting your lobe. Shivers. Fucking shivers.

"Then show me."

Fuck! What better word to describe what he was doing to you? With no mercy and no time for taking a breath, he fucked himself deep into you. Pounding endlessly until you swore, he reached your cervix. A repeated motion of buckling his hips and gripping your waist. It drove you mad.

Again and again, he thrusted into you and then for absolutely no fucking reason... he stopped. Dick buried deep inside of you, you were hoisted up and pressed against him. Your back against his chest. Both standing on your knees, only you had a twitching cock inside of you.

"Show me exactly what makes you so memorable."

When you made your remark, you meant it in two ways. You were incredible. Your quirk, to be more specific. And when he uttered those words, it somehow managed to slip out doubled meaning as well.

When all he got was sympathy, you proved to him that life was cruel and there was no point bitching about that. Yet you lightened something that he didn't even know was there. A flame, perhaps? A glimpse of... motivation?

His arms were crossed over your body, each hand gripping a tit. your one hand reached to cup his cheek, while the other rested atop his hands. His nose nuzzled into your neck, pecking it softly.

"If I did that, you might not want to let me go."

You wanted him. Before it was only a hunch and even now you could've just been under the influence of his arousal, but you wanted him. And not just in the sexual way. You wanted him. Desperately.

"You thought I was going to let you go?" He tugged at a string in your mind that sent flutters into your tummy. One peck to the cheek and you were back on all fours, gripping onto the sheets and crying out cries of pleasure. Bouncing along to his beat. Taking him in inch by inch. Like a hawk in heat, he made you his.

His thrusts became sloppy and breaths even more rigid. He was close. You gasped and yelped all at once, feeling the sudden attachment of his finger fingering your clit. Over stimulation. Complete and utter rapture. Glee that made you feel wanted and adored. How could he have such an effect on you?

Your walls tightened and pussy juices squirted all over his pounding cock. Hawks himself then joined you in orgasm and filled you with his seed. Hot, sticky cum dripped from your cunt, sweat mixing in with it.

You were exhausted. He plucked himself from your clingy pussy and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. At first, you fell face first into the bed. You then caught your breath and adjusted your position to look at him. He sensed it and looked back at you.

No words. He simply crawled onto the bed and wrapped big strong arms around you. Gently, he shifted both your weights to lay on your sides; snuggled up against him. You felt hot, sure, but you also felt safe. You heard him chuckle with little amusement.

"Last time I held you I could at least cover you up," he mentioned towards his lost wings. The fluttering burned and you had a heavy sensation dropping in your chest. He pecked your forehead, but let go when you looked up at him.

"I want to show you how incredible I am now." You've decided. His head titled slightly to the side in confusion and he snickered.

"Thought we already established that, kid."

You pulled your lips into a thin line, but then shook your head. Sincerity in your eyes allowed him to understand how serious you were, and his expression softened. He looked at you and maintained focus on where you were touching him. Over his chest, down his sides. Across his back... until you touched the roots where his wings once were.

He cringed or flinched; you weren't sure. One hand went to his neck, and you pulled him in for a kiss. Something to distract him. Something to comfort him. Intimacy. Affection. Passion. All synced along to the kiss. You worked your magic. He didn't notice.

When you pulled away his forehead touched yours. You felt gingerly at the roots of his wings. You smiled. You started to giggle. He looked down on you and gave you a questioning look. You simply smiled up at him.

"And that smile?" As reply you gestured towards the bathroom. In specific the mirror. He felt like there was something on his face or some shit and decided to get up. You sat there, excitedly waiting for him to open his gift from you. It was honestly the least you could do for him.

He looked at his reflection and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He turned to the side and looked back at where you were sitting on the bed, shrugging. You motioned towards the mirror again, this time he only turned his head to examine his side figure.

H-How?

His eyes were wide, yours were closed. His mouth was agape, yours pulled up in a smug smile. His hands were near trembling, yours were ready to embrace him again. There they were. At his roots.

Two little bundles of freshly grown, scarlet-red feathers. An unforgettable favor.

© all content belongs to estjbeaver '22. do not modify or repost.

Hawks

[blouisparadise]

Here are some of the amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of September. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Like Sweat Dripping Down Our Dirty Laundry | Explicit | 1,460 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry has a thing for Louis' armpits. Louis wears a tank-top. You get the picture.

2) The Beat Of Your Heart, The Devil's Arcade | Mature | 3,567 words

“Louis Tomlinson, shortstop to the Cardinals, marries pitcher for their rival team, the Chicago Cubs,” Oli says in a fake announcer voice. He shakes his head. “One day someone will make a movie about it."

3) Make Dreams Come True | Explicit | 3,883 words

“You’re saying, I’ve met him?” he asked hopefully. “Yeah, mate, you’ve probably seen him somewhere, found him attractive and bam… he’s in your dreams -” Zayn chuckled, “Our brains are a mysterious place”. That was it. He had met him before, which meant that he could meet again. “I'm going to find him”, Louis said happily, humming contently. “It can’t be that hard right?”

4) Good And Bad And Right And Wrong | Explicit | 5,113 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis angrily threw a pillow at his head, but Harry avoided it, laughing loudly as he slammed the door behind him. Louis bit his lip, grumpy and flushed and hard again, tension and arguments like this with his dear husband always a huge turn on. He knew it was his toxic trait, but at the same time, it was so good to let the tension build until it exploded under the sheets. So instead of pouting and groaning in bed, waiting for Harry to leave the house without him like he first intended to do, Louis kicked the sheets of his legs, stripped off his boxers –and gave his cock a few nice quick strokes, before getting dressed for the gym. Harry smiled widely when he joined him in the kitchen. Louis flipped him off. He promised himself he would have his revenge.

5) Harmony | Explicit | 6,175 words

Alpha Harry and Omega Louis don’t have the most amicable relationship at work. When they get stuck together in an elevator, Harry scents Louis after nothing else works to bring him out of his panicked state. Their time trapped in the elevator together brings to light some misunderstandings, and maybe some feelings for each other, too.

6) Smile for the Camera for It Knows Everything, Hollywood Star | Mature | 6,676 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 132- The story of Nancy Reagan being called the blowjob queen of Hollywood but it's Louis.

7) It's All My Love (You Got All My Love) | Teen & Up | 8,002 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Sometimes, he realized how he truly didn’t deserve an alpha this good and patient and understanding and loving. He had no clue how Louis had bagged him, how Harry had wanted to mate with him, let alone raise pups together. Still, here they were, with Harry being the perfect lover and Louis crying in the streets about a little pumpkin. The fact Eli had baked little cakes in the shape of pumpkins that morning didn’t make anything better for Louis’ emotional state, but at the very least he got to sit down with Harry for a minute and devour one together, mumbling his apologies into the alpha’s neck.

8) To A Higher Place | Explicit | 8,118 words

Louis arrives home during his break from tour just in time for Harry’s rut.

9) Cold Spring | Explicit | 8,260 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Pedro Pascal. This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Life went on as normal at Cold Spring Café. Sam’s scribbles remained indiscernible, Jake persisted on his idea of getting more pots for the shop, and Pedro…Pedro continued coming to drink his moderately-caffeinated americano, to write furiously in that notebook of his, and to captivate Louis to no end.

10) My Fire, My Heart | Not Rated | 9,600 words

One look at his face and there's worry all over him. "Baby? What's going on?" "Nothing, just drive." Louis replies, turning to look outside the window. "Lou-" "I said drive, Harry. Just take me home." He says in frustration. He was not ready to have the conversation yet, needing time to think, to clear his head. Harry doesn't say anything again, just starts the car to leave.

11) I (Don’t) Really Care For You | Mature | 11,367 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“There’s always the worst-case scenario,” Zayn said while the subway pulled to a stop. “Get your heart broken. Then you can write through experience.” “Yeah, right,” Louis called after him while Zayn hopped off of the train. “You try falling in love in New York City.”

12) Fight For Us | Explicit | 11,133 words

Louis isn’t okay. It’s beyond wrong, the way they’re held in a cage waiting to be chosen for mating. It’s the way it’s been all Louis’ life, but he never wanted to end up like this. He’d hoped against hope that he’d present as a beta since they don’t have these same restrictions on them. They don’t have to adhere to their biology. And one dark night, long after all of the other omegas in the pen have fallen asleep, biology comes calling for Louis.

13) The Wild Night to Memory Loss to Soul Mates Pipeline | Explicit | 17,628 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“What the fuck are you on—holy shit,” Louis gasps, looking down at his own hand to see a white gold band wrapped his left ring finger. “Wh-what is going on?” “Sure is a conundrum,” the man muses, realization flashing in his green eyes. “I-I’m not married, I can’t be married,” Louis mumbles to himself, staring wide-eyed at the ring, heart racing a mile a minute.

14) There's A Hole In My Heart (And It's Got Your Name On It) | Explicit | 19,502 words

The four scream from the stands as the team huddles together, pulling their helmets and gloves off and slapping each other's backs as they celebrate their win. Louis had stolen a pom-pom from Mal earlier and he shakes it vigorously. His breath hitches when Harry looks up and their eyes meet. The hockey player smirks at him but looks away quickly. “Did he just-” “No.” Louis quickly stops Jade from even finishing that sentence because he’s about to lose his damn mind.

15) Ties That Binds Us | Explicit | 21,117 words

A tale as long as time Where A King who didn’t have any intentions of loving someone falls for the boy who was a hopeless romantic, tying them in a union neither could escape.

16) Love Is Pain, Pain Is Pleasure | Explicit | 25,288 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

After a series of disturbing events threaten his safety, Louis has no choice but to hire a new bodyguard. Enter Harry, an incredibly attractive, judgmental asshole who hates Louis’ guts.

17) The Wounds That Scarred Our Souls | Explicit | 35910 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Forever was nothing but a lie, Forever was just a ruse for the human heart, it gave you hope and then killed you. Forever was just a myth.

18) Always An Angel, Never A God | Explicit | 39,518 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

To understand the level of deep water Louis was in, one first needed to know he has had the same best friend since he was five. Ethan Astor was family to him—a friend who he loved deeply despite their differences. A friend he would do almost anything for. So when Ethan came to him with the plan, no matter how he felt about it, Louis accepted it. At first, it was simple, he just had to flutter his eyelashes at any of the boys that showed interest in Ethan, and if they fell for it, he just dumped them without telling them the reason. Somehow, the rumors spread around campus that Ethan had an insufferable friend they had to somehow win over to reach him. Like a final monster before getting the princess.

19) Love Me If You Dare | Explicit | 54,721 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry and Louis’ friendship starts with a game, after a simple dare. The two little boys quickly become the best of friends and referees of their own game. Unfortunately, as they grow up, they sometimes become the victims of it too. With them, everything is possible. They are capable of daring each other to do anything. But will they dare confess their feelings for each other?

20) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,601 words

Louis hadn’t forgotten about Harry as much as he tried. It wasn’t due to the strange nature of their meeting, more so the magnetic pull he somehow had on Louis. He couldn’t fathom why this complete stranger stayed in his mind as much as he tried to stop it. Any time his phone sounded his heart skipped a beat at the thought of it possibly being Harry. In all honesty, it made him feel sort of pathetic. Gay guy falls for straight guy, what a cliche he had become.

21) Three Men And A Baby | Explicit | 122,978 words

Note: There is a BH mention. This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis' life had been going along just fine. Until one morning when his entire world changes when he steps on a piece of lego belonging to a young boy who has randomly appeared in his flat. And with that boy comes his gorgeous father. His flatmate Zayn has some explaining to do but he's definitely not complaining, instantly feeling connected to these new additions. Over the span of a year, life gets crazy, frustrating, surprising and most importantly...filled with love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[blossom-hwa]

Hi there! I was wondering if you could do a skz seungmin academic rivals to lovers drabble? Love your work, especially your Whispers of Nature supernatural au!!

thank you for the request and your kind comment, I'm glad you liked the series! hope you didn't mind me inserting the spiderverse into this drabble - ever since I watched the new movie I've been itching to write something with it, and this idea struck me with help from @wingkkun (thanks chip <3). please enjoy!

summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

REQUESTS OPEN!!

~

Title: The Bane of My Existence, the Reason I'm Alive 

Pairing: Seungmin x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderverse!au, university!au

Warnings: injury, cursing, a mention of porn as part of a joke (no actual sex/suggestiveness)

~

3:55 PM. 

You slide into the seat of the lecture hall, five minutes before your exam is supposed to start. Physics—your best and favorite subject, and also the one you happen to have studied the absolute most for just to be absolutely certainthat you'll beat Seungmin Kim, the bane of your entire existence. 

Which, to be fair, is not entirely true. Because for one thing, the stupid criminals and villains you fight every week as your spider-based alter ego are far bigger nuisances than he is. Doc Ock nearly killed you, physically and metaphorically and sarcastically. You're still recovering from the shock of live tentacle porn crawling down the streets of Manhattan—you're not quite sure you'll ever get over that, which is something you made sure to say when he was wrapped tidily up in your webs and the police were coming to take him away. 

And for the record, Seungmin does seem like a nice guy—for the most part, at least. He's got a sense of humor and he's friendly enough, liked by most of the student body even though he transferred to your university very suddenly just a month or two ago. But his smile—his stupid smile—whenever he beats you in a test in one of the classes you share, his stupid little shrug when you beat him like it doesn't matter at all to him, this one-sided rivalry of yours—

Ugh. You grit your teeth just thinking about it. Enough said. He's the bane of your existence. That's it. 

And…

You look around the room. 

And he's not here. 

Huh. You frown. The TAs have already started passing out the tests, starting from the front and back and making their steady way to the middle where you usually sit, Seungmin just one row in front. But the seat he always takes is suspiciously empty right now, his head of black hair nowhere to be seen anywhere in the room. 

Your frown deepens as a TA passes you an exam sheet face down. Why would he miss an exam? You've only known him for a couple of months but he doesn't seem like the type to skip a test—or, at least if he had to, he'd probably have said something about it in passing when you two eventually got to bickering like you always do—so why?

A bubble of worry starts to build in your stomach, which is so dumb—why should you care? Why the fuck should you? It's just Seungmin, Seungmin Kim who's not even really a friend. He's just a guy. A dude that infuriates you a little too much when it comes to your need for academic validation. 

The clock strikes four. Papers rustle around the room. You flip over your own exam and force all thoughts of a certain Seungmin Kim out of your mind once and for all. 

He's not your problem. 

. . . . .

4:30 PM.

DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER—

It hits you with a jolt—almost physically. You let out a gasp and the tip of your pencil breaks when you press it too hard into the paper, blinking furiously. The sense—the spider-sense—

DANGER DANGER DANGER

Your breath catches. Someone next to you gives you a sidelong glare and somewhere else someone hisses in frustration, but you can only force yourself to sit. And breath. And focus on what exactly you're going to do next. 

Physics exam. Saving the city from possible disaster. 

Seungmin's not here. It's silly and even selfish to think about now, but it makes the decision so much easier to know that at least compared to him, your half-finished test won't matter.

You hand your test to the nearest TA and sprint out of the hall. 

. . . . .

4:47 PM. 

"You're late to the party!" 

That's the greeting Spider-Min tosses over as you swing into the fray. Despite the huge lizard monster thingrampaging through the streets, you grin—for all your initial frustration when a new spider person suddenly appeared in town, clearly more experienced than you, you think you can now count Min, as he has you call him, as one of your friends. He caught you when you were just starting out this vigilante gig and has since taught you so much. 

It's also just really nice to have someone around who understands living a dual life like this. 

"Well, excuse me for having a physics exam! How'd you get here so fast?" You lash out with your webs, slamming the monster's snapping jaws shut. It tries to roar but can't, so it settles for stomping over half a dozen cars instead. Screams erupt from the streets. 

Shit. You leap from the side of a building, scooping up civilians and depositing them further away. "Better run!" you yell, waiting just long enough to make sure they survive their mad scramble to safety before turning back to the fight. 

"Happened to be in Brooklyn when it started causing chaos, nerd!"

"Oh, suck it!" You punch one of the lizard's claws away, rolling your eyes under your mask. "As if you're not the exact fucking same, dickhead—"

Min laughs. It's a bright sound, warm and heavy and like one of the last rays of sunlight permeating your suit, warming you up from inside and out. 

And even though you've most certainly failed a test for the first time in your life, even though you're still smarting over the fact that you worried about Seungmin Kim, even though you're fighting a lurid green lizard monster that's just managed to tear your webbing away from its mouth, you don't find it very difficult to laugh, too. 

. . . . .

4:59 PM. 

The lizard monster won't go down. Just—won't. It's annoyingly persistent and it fucking regenerates limbs—both you and Min have screamed some obscenity about this at least five times each because while the regeneration is slow, it's incredibly disturbing to watch in real time as well as annoying to deal with when you're trying to subdue it. 

And, of course, there are a select few idiot civilians who insist on making your lives harder. It's usually a few foolhardy police who don't like vigilantes, but this time, there's a vlogger. 

For real. A vlogger. Trying to film the fight from way too close. 

And what does said vlogger get for his efforts? A chunk of rubble falling on his head. Or it would have fallen on his head if you hadn't abandoned the fight to sweep him out of the way, leaving Min to fight the creature on his own for a few dangerous seconds. "RUN!" you yell, shoving the stunned vlogger towards the police before spinning around to face the lizard creature that Min's still fighting alone. 

Only—

It happens so fast you almost miss it. Something like—a computer glitch, almost. A spasm. That's as close as you can get to describing it, a sort of television static ripping through the air and distorting Min's image into a blur of—pixels, almost, though that doesn't make sense because pixels only exist in screens and not in real damn life. 

It's fast. Half a second, maybe. But it's enough for the lizard's tail to sweep through the air, smacking the already falling Spider-Min into a building and hurtling him to the ground. 

A blurry screech fills your ears. Only later will you realize you were the one who made the sound. 

You sprint and leap onto the side of a building, shooting out desperate strands of web. By some miracle streak of luck, one of them catches Min in the back as he falls. You nearly fall yourself with the sudden weight at the end of the strand but you force yourself to hold on, to grab your friend before he falls. 

"Min?" You land behind a pile of rubble, patting his cheeks. "Min!" 

He doesn't respond. 

Panic almost blinds you. Your head feels fuzzy and you can't see clearly, can't really breathe either, but you press two numb fingers to his neck and nearly swoon with relief when you feel a faint pulse beneath his suit.

Somewhere above you, the lizard hisses. You look up to see the hideous green face swinging left to right. Looking for Min. Looking for you. 

You swallow hard. Min's in no condition to fight. He's out cold. His suit is shredded, showing bloody scrapes on his skin, and half his mask has been torn off. 

Taking a shaky breath, you gently lower Min to the ground and step out from behind the rubble. "Over here, ugly!" you scream to disguise the fear freezing the blood in your veins. 

Time to go on alone, just like you did before. 

. . . . .

5:13 PM.

After Min falls, you don't know what happens. 

Seriously. You don't. You know there was fear, you know there was rage, you know there was red crossing your vision that wasn't from your mask—but you don't know what happened. You just know that ten short but still horrifically long minutes later, you knocked the lizard out and it morphed into a human who you wrapped tightly in your webs and strung from a building for the cops to grab before ducking behind the rubble to pick up Min, who was still out cold. 

He's still out cold as you swing him across the city and in through the window of your dorm. 

Your body hangs on just long enough for you to deposit him on your bed and check his pulse to ensure that he is in fact still breathing. Then your legs give out and you fall to the floor. 

For several long minutes, you can only sit there and gasp. Breathe. Try to make sense of everything that happened—lizard man, vlogger, glitch-pixel-what-the-fuck-Min, unconscious Min. 

Most of it can be explained. Lizard man: experiment gone wrong. Probably. Vlogger: people are idiots. Unconscious Min: he got smacked into a wall. 

But the glitch-pixel bit. 

What the fuck was that.

You rip off your mask and take a gasping breath. Somewhere nearby you spot your water bottle and drain most of it in two gulps. You dump the rest on your face. 

The cool water splashing onto your skin brings your mind back to focus, just a little bit. Enough for you to finally take a good look at Min on your bed, still unconscious. 

Already some of the smaller scrapes have faded from his skin, visible through the torn fabric of his suit. You breathe a little sigh of relief, pushing yourself back up to take a closer look—not too close, because it feels kind of like an invasion of privacy, but enough to reassure yourself. Just a little bit. 

Then your gaze falls on his face, where half of his mask has been torn off. 

Your first instinct is to look away. You've never shown Min your face, nor has he shown you his. It's an unspoken agreement between the two of you to keep it quiet—not because you don't trust each other, but because you just didn't. No one knows you. No one knows Spider-Min. It's meant to be this way. 

But almost against your will, you have to look again. Because there's something very familiar about the bottom of his face. The set of his jaw, the pale skin of his cheeks, the tilt of his nose half covered by a little flap of fabric still hanging on. And though you look away almost immediately, the familiarity stays. Tugs at your mind in all the wrong ways. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Half of you screams to look again. The other half screams to turn yourself away. And between the two halves, a little piece of your mind is whirring, trying to figure out who Min looks like to you. 

And then. 

And then.

It hits you. 

Seungmin Kim. 

Your eyes fly open, immediately lighting on Min. The jaw, the face shape—his laugh, his voice—his name, Min—

"Happened to be in Brooklyn while it started causing chaos, nerd!"

No wonder he wasn't taking the physics exam. 

A strangled noise leaves your throat. Spider-Min. Seungmin Kim. Fellow spider person. Academic rival. You don't want to believe it—can't believe it—but all the evidence is staring you in the face, quite literally in your face—

If you just lift off his mask you'll know for sure. 

Before you even realize it, one hand is reaching out for the torn edge of the mask, fingers itching to pull back the fabric and confirm every one of your horrible suspicions. They can't be the same—not the bane of your existence and half the reason you're still alive—but—

And then it happens again. The glitch. Pixels scrambling with radio static, television buzzing but in real life. Only for a second but just enough for you to watch Min blur in and out of reality the way he did during the fight. Enough for you to confirm that you weren't losing your mind then. 

Though you just might be now. 

To your horror, Min—Seungmin—what the fuck, did you bring Seungmin Kim back into your own bed, what the fuck—his eyes flutter. His lips part, just slightly. His breath catches. 

You clap a hand over your own mouth, stifling something that feels half like a sob, half like a scream. And as Min's body shifts, his eyes starting to blink open, you do the only thing you can think to do. 

Trembling fingers pull your mask over your face, and you jump out of the window.

[queerlilchinchin]

Victor VonBoom = The Sonic Clap

Shelli Margaret = Sulfur

--

Shelli = villain, Victor = hero

--

They are rivals on the streets but lovers in the sheets

FWB that turn into actual lovers in the future

Their relationship is not exactly hidden - when they're "off the clock" they can be seen sightseeing, hanging out, holding hands and just enjoying each other's company.

They've been close friends saying WAY BACK before they became what they are now.

They start dating after one of Sulfur's abilities nearly kills Victor and she realizes she has deeper feelings for him - which he realized way before that.