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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 month ago

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What We Used to Be - Jey Uso x Black!OC

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This will remain a ONESHOT, no part twos ❤️

April 11th 2017

JaiFelix_WWE

liked by trinity_fatu, sashabankswwe, and 300,000 others

JaiFelix_WWE: If you're not watching Smackdown tonight, what are you doing??!

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user: dreaming about us being together

trinity_fatu : JAI- JAI 💖

carmellawwe: looking good girl!

jonathanfatu: can u delete this plz! got my wife licking her phone!

↪JaiFelix_WWE: @jonathanfatu LMAO!

Jaiania held her breath as she walked past Josh and his twin brother Jon. She kept her head down, hoping they didn’t notice her walking by them. She absolutely did not want to have a conversation with either of them - especially Josh -. After their failed relationship and trainwreck of a breakup, she would rather play in traffic than have a conversation with him.

She almost made it past them without being noticed. “Damn girl you just gon walk right past us.” That was Jon. Jaiania forced a smile on her face and turned around to face them.

“Oh, hey.” She said, keeping her eyes on Jon. “Didn’t see you there.” She shrugged when he gave her a ‘yeah right’ look. Josh crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes when he realized that she was trying her hardest to not look in his direction.

This is awkward she thought as she rocked back on her heels before pointing in the direction she was walking.

“I gotta go. Nice seeing you though,” She said to Jon, still ignoring Joshua’s presence.

She hurried down the hallway feeling their eyes on her.

Jon turned to his brother once she rounded the corner. “Look at what you did,” He said, smacking Josh on his chest. Josh rolled his eyes.

“I ain't do shit. Come on, we gotta get ready.” Josh did not want to hear that bullshit. He was in the wrong just as much as she was but since everyone loved Jaiania he took all the blame.

Jaiaina groaned as she saw Jon and Josh walking her way a couple of hours later. This must be my lucky day, two times in one night, she thought bitterly. She could normally avoid Jon and Josh but they seemed to be everywhere she was today.

“Congratulations guys.” She said referring to the Smackdown tag team titles they had just won from Chad Gable and Jason Jordan.

“Thank you, Jai,” Jon said, trying to give her a sweaty hug. She pretended to throw up and moved away from him. “Is your arm okay tho? That rinpost spot looked pretty rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” Jaiaina lied. “Looked way worse than it actually was.” She said, smiling at him.

“Yeet!” He said, making Jaiaina roll her eyes. “We goin’ out to celebrate our big win tonight, you in?”

Jaiaina let her eyes cut over to Josh who thankfully wasn’t looking at her. “Uh. I can’t. I have plans already.” That got Josh’s attention. He looked up from his phone and squinted his eyes at her. He wasn't normally one for gossip but he had heard some things about Jaiaina and another one of their co-workers recently.

“So the rumors are true huh?” He said with a scoff. “You move on fast.” Jaiaina cut her eyes back over to him and glared.

“Excuse me?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Josh sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her. “You heard me.”

Jon let his eyes ping pong between the two of them. He knew he needed to stop them before they became explosive. “Uce, come on. It ain’t worth it. ” Jon said trying to pull his brother along but Josh wasn’t budging. “Josh, stop. Let’s go Uce”

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea,” Jaiaina said as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away from them. 6 months of silence and the first thing he said to her is something about some bullshit ass rumors?! Pathetic

“And then he had the nerve to talk about me moving on too fast,” Jaiaina said to Trinity and Carmella as they sat in the VIP section of a club. “I mean, he broke up with me. What does he care if I moved on or not.” She said as she downed another shot. Carmelle and Trinity shared a look but didn’t say anything. “And what fucking rumors?!” She turned to her best friends. “Yall heard rumors about me?” She let out a scoff and rolled her eyes when they both nodded.

“Yeah, but we obviously don't believe it,” Carmella said.

“What's the rumor though?”

Carmella shrugged and sipped her drink. “Something about you and AJ”

Jaiaina's eyes widened. “AJ STYLES?!” She asked louder than necessary. “Ew, what the fuck. Where did that fucking come from?”

Carmella sighed. “Okay, here's what I know. Apparently, someone saw you and him leaving a hotel room together a couple of weeks ago.”

Jaiaina scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Do these people know that he’s married and I would never do that to Wendy or his children?” She sighed. “And Josh knows that Allen was my mentor during my time in TNA.”

“Girl you know how Josh is. He’s being an ass because he misses you.” Trinity said and Jaiaina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, he shouldn’t believe rumors about me.”

“And you miss him too, right?” Trinity questioned.

Jaiania rolled her eyes. “Of course I miss him, I never said I didn’t.”

“ Do you still love him?”

Jaiaian took another sip of her drink before answering. “Yes I still love him, but it is extremely obvious that he never did. We break up and the first thing he does is go fuck on one of our coworkers? That’s foul. Now every time I walk past that hoe she got a fucking smirk on her face that I wanna smack off. ”

Trinity and Carmella found themselves nodding along with Jaiaina’s statement. It was an extremely foul thing for Josh to do.

“I still don’t know what possessed him to do that. “

“I do.” Jaiaina rolled her eyes. “He been wanting to fuck Dasha. Surprised he didn’t do it while we were dating.”

Trinity rolled her eyes at her friend. “Josh may have been an asshole but we all know he wouldn’t cheat on you.”

Jaiaina hummed as she took a sip of her drink. She then eyed her friend. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your husband?”

“Oh, about that.”

Jai narrowed her eyes at Trinity before letting out a gasp. “You didn’t !”

“I’m sorry! I know we already planned this girl's night and I didn’t wanna flake on y'all.”

Jai scoffed and turned towards Carmella who was already looking at her with guilty eyes.

“I invited Corey too.”

Jaiaina had to stop herself from throwing a temper tantrum. “You guys” she whined. “Girls night mean just girls.” She pouted.

Trinity and Carmella burst into laughter. “We’re sorry! But look, we can have a girl's night once we go back to Florida. Just us.”

“Fine,” Jaiaina said, still pouting. Just as she was about to take another sip of her drink, Jon, Josh and… Dasha fucking Jackson. Jaiaina scoffed and adverted her eyes from the couple.

“I’m sorry,” Trin whispered as stood and greeted her husband and Corey purposely ignoring Josh and Dasha. Carmella did the same and Jaiania couldn’t have been more grateful for her friends.

Don’t let it get to you, Don’t let it get to you. She repeated in her head as Dasha made a point of showing she was Josh’s girl now by placing a kiss on his lips. Once Dasha looked in her direction, Jaiaina stood from her seat and walked over to the bar. The drama was something she did not need nor want tonight.

She let out a heavy sigh as she leaned against the bar. She had successfully gone months without being in the same space as Josh because it hurt. It hurt to look at him and not be with him. She said some foul things the day they broke up and so did he, but she never expected him to literally go and fuck another woman THE SAME NIGHT.

“C’mon, you too pretty to be frowning.” Jaiaina had to stop herself from swinging on the slimeball that just slithered his way next to her. She turned her head to the side to face him and he smiled thinking he got her attention. She cringed at the food he had stuck in his teeth.

“Thank you,” She said referring to the compliment. “But, uh no thanks.” She said referring to his advances. The bartender set down her rum punch, Jaiaina grabbed the drink and tried to walk away but the guy grabbed her arm.

“Don’t be fucking rude.” He scoffed. “You didn’t even ask me my name.”

“That’s cause I don’t wanna know your name!” She said, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp. Just from how tight his grip was, she knew she was going to have a bruise. “Let go of me!”

“Don’t be such a bitch!” He spat at her, Just as Jai was lifting her knee to hit him in his balls, he was forcefully grabbed, which caused him to release her arm.

“The fuck is you doin’?!”

Jaiaina let out a gasp as Josh pushed the slimeball down to the ground. By now, more than half of the bar had turned their attention to them. “Don’t put ya’ fucking hands on her like that. Fuck is wrong witchu?!”

Slimy McSlimerson tried to kick his feet at Josh but Josh sidestepped them and then kicked slimeball in his face, knocking him onto his back. Slimy let out a groan as he started to hold his now broken nose.

“You alright?” The bartender asked coming around the bar and taking Jai’s arm in his hands, inspecting it. “You want me to call the cops?”

Josh gently pulled Jaiaina away from the bartender, making him drop her arm. Jaiaina’s eyebrows furrowed together as Josh wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, tucking her into his side. “Nah, we good,” Josh said eyeing Slimy on the ground. Josh was tempted to knock Slimy’s teeth down his throat but decided against it as he led Jai out of the club and into the night's cool air.

Jaiaina said nothing as she let Josh lead her outside. She momentarily allowed herself to lean into his familiar touch before remembering their current situation. “I’m fine now.” She said, taking another step away from him. “You can go back into the bar.”

“And leave you out here?” He asked. “Bab–Jaiaina, you shaking.”

“Okay, so send Trin or Mella out here. Go back inside.” Josh sucked bus teeth and pulled off his black bomber jacket he was wearing and handed it to her.

“Just take the damn jacket Jai”

“I don’t want your damn jacket, Joshua. And I damn sure didn’t need your help back there. I had it.”

Josh scoffed and grabbed her arm, making them both look down at the purple bruise that was forming. “Yeah okay.” He snorted. He hated that she was so stubborn. “You can hate me all you want Jaiaina. But if you gon’ wait out here in the damn cold, take the damn jacket.”

Jaiaina huffed and snatched the jacket out of his hands. “Happy?” She asked with a sarcastic smile and she slid her arms into the jacket.

“Very.” Just as he said that the side door to the bar opened and her group of friends and Dasha spilled out. Dasha eyed the jacket and then narrowed her eyes at Josh, who was still looking at Jaiaina.

“Girl! Are you okay?!” Trinity cried out as she and Leah rushed over to their best friend. Jai broke eye contact with Josh and turned her head towards her friends.

“I’m fine. Just some weirdo who doesn’t understand the meaning of No.”

Trinity, being the emotional drunk wrapped her arms around Jai’s head and pulled her down, so Jai’s head was resting on her breast. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you friend.” She whispered as a few tears slipped down her face. Jon and Josh sucked their teeth.

“Man, Trin get off her.” Jai let out a soft laugh as Jon pulled Trinity away from her.

“Did I ruin the mood? Or can we go back in?” Jaiaina asked.

“Hell no! You didn’t ruin the mood! C’mon!” Leah said as she grabbed Trinity’s and Jaiaina’s hands and started to lead them inside.

“Actually. I’m not in the party spirit anymore… We’re gonna head back to the hotel. Dasha said as she walked over to Josh. Jaiaina hated the way her heart tightened in her chest. Jaiaina watched as Dasha slipped her hand into Josh’s, her fingers curling around his in that intimate, effortless way that people who were in love did.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bit longer?” Josh asked, his voice soft but laced with that familiar warmth Jaiaina had once loved.

Dasha's hand tightened around his. “I’m sure. Come on, let’s go.” There was a finality to her words that Jaiaina couldn’t ignore.

Jaiaina’s chest tightened. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t hurt at all.

She and Josh had broken up for a reason—no matter how hard it had been. She told herself she was over it. Jaiaina forced herself to look away from the couple.

“I think I'm gonna head back too. I forgot I have an early flight to Birmingham in the morning.”

Birmingham? Josh arched his eyebrow at the mention of Birmingham. He knew there was only one reason why she was going there, which meant she lied to Jon earlier when he asked about her arm.

Trinity and Leah shot her playful glares, but their smiles quickly softened into teasing hugs. After making Jaiaina promise to hang out once all three of them were in Florida, Jon, Trin, Leah and Corey walked back inside the bar.

Jaiaina stood there awkwardly. She pulled her phone out of her clutch and ordered an Uber. She could feel Josh and Dasha’s eyes on her.

“Oh, your jacket,” Dasha said as their Uber pulled up.

“She can keep it. It’s cold as hell out here Baby.” Baby.. just hearing that Josh had a nickname for Dasha made Jaiaina sick to her stomach.

“It’s fine..” Jaiaina trailed off as she took the jack off and handed it back to Josh. “I should have brought out my own coat.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Dasha scoffed and snatched the jacket out of Jai’s hands.

Be the bigger person Jaiaina thought, don’t beat this bitch’s ass.

“C’mon man, you ain't have to snatch it,” Josh muttered as he walked towards the Uber. Dasha rolled her eyes and stomped after him.

“Well, why did you give her your jacket? Could have let the hoe freeze for all I care.”

Jaiaina gritted her teeth as the door to the Uber slammed shut and they drove away. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the deep breathing exercises her therapist told her to do. Forcing herself to take slow, deliberate breaths in and out. In through the nose, out through the mouth...

It didn’t work. Not this time.

Dasha was so lucky that Jaiaina actually enjoyed her job, cause Jai would have BEEN beat her ass by now.

Jaiaina’s head had barely hit the pillow before three sharp, rhythmic knocks echoed through the room. Her stomach twisted into knots at the sound of the knocks.

There was only one person in the whole world that knew three was her safe number. Sighing, she threw the covers off of her, grabbed her pink Versace robe, and opened the door.

“Why did you lie to twin earlier?” Jaiaina blinked.

What?” she scoffed, a quick laugh escaping her. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier, Jon asked about your arm. You said you were fine but you not. Why you going to Birmingham in the morning.”

“What I have going on in my life doesn’t concern you anymore Joshua,” Jaiaina said firmly, trying to shut down the conversation before it could go any further.

“Don’t do that.” He muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t act like you weren’t a major part of my life.”

“I was. Not anymore Joshua. Go back to Dasha and leave me alone.”

Josh’s jaw tightened as he took a deep breath trying to compose himself. “Look, I know –”

“No,” Jaiaina said as she started to shake her head. “I’m not doing this with you.” Josh looked confused as she started to close the door in his face, at the last second, he put his foot in between the door and the fame. Jaiaine huffed as he easily overpowered her and gently pushed her away from the door.

She stomped over to the bed and threw herself down on it, while Josh shut the door behind her and went to sit in the armchair that was placed between the bed and the window.

“Josh, it's been six months since we last talked. Let’s just go back to that.”

“I don’t want to. I fucking miss you Jaiaina.”

Jaiaina laughed making Josh scoff.

“The hell so funny?”

“YOU!” She exclaimed as she jumped from the bed and pointed at him. “You think you can just come swoop in like some type of Superman after what you did?! Fuck off, Joshua!”

“Jai, I know I said some fucked up shit but -”

“Said?! No nigga. It's about what you did!” She cut him off. “The fact that you fucked that bitch the same night we broke up was foul as hell Joshua!”

“Woah!” He called out, jumping to his feet. “I ain't do no shit like that. Fuck is you talking about.”

Jaiaina let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah okay.” She said mockingly with a roll of her eyes. “The bitch already told anybody who would listen. The same night you walked out of our hotel room, you went to her! And you fucked her.” Jaiaina couldn’t hold it back anymore, the tears that threatened to spill since the bar came flowing down her face.

"Jai, I swear to you, that's ain’t what happened," Josh said, his voice low and urgent. He took a step towards her, but Jaiaina backed away, shaking her head.

“Don’t Joshua. Just leave.”

“Hell no. I’m not going anywhere. I lost you once, I’m not doing It again.”

Jaiaina childishly covered her ears. “I’m not listening to any of the bullshit you are spewing tonight Joshua!” She uncovered her ears and narrowed her eyes at Josh. “Okay let's just say, you didn’t have sex with her the same night. You’re still with her now! And don’t deny it, I heard you call her baby.” When Josh didn’t deny it, Jaiaina felt her heart break even more. “Please just go. Go back to your girlfriend and go back to ignoring me.” She whispered as she lowered her eyes to the ground.

Jaiaina heard him sniffle but she didn’t lift her head to look at him. “I never wanted to hurt you Jai.” Jaiaina didn’t say anything back, she didn’t have anything to say. She was exhausted. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget all about Josh by the morning.

Josh sighed and started walking towards the door, the silence between them was too much. It was suffocating. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make things right. But he didn’t know how. With one last glance at Jaiaina, he turned and walked out the door.

As soon as the door shut, Jaiaina broke down, she covered her mouth with her hand to try and hide her sobs. Outside, Josh leaned against the closed door, his forehead pressed against the cool wood. He could hear Jaiaina's muffled cries through the thin barrier, and each sob felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted nothing more than to burst back in, to take her in his arms and explain everything. But he knew she wouldn't listen, not now.

April 18th 2017

Birmingham, Alabama

Jaiaina knew it was stupid to go through this surgery alone, but WWE provided the best doctors so she knew she was in good hands.

Waking up from surgery was a feeling she would never get used to. She let out a groan at the dull ache in her right shoulder and immediately she heard someone shh her and place a straw at her lips. The comforting sensation of the water helped clear some of the haze, but as she blinked her eyes open, the shock of who was sitting next to her hit her like a ton of bricks.

“I gotchu, relax.”

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, her voice scratchy and weak from the anesthesia.

“Making sure you alright and not alone.”

“Josh please –”

He shushed her again. “I broke whatever I had with Dasha off. Imma be truthful and say that yeah, I got with her to fuck with you after I heard the rumor about you and AJ but, I did not have sex with her that same night. To be honest, I never had sex with her, I haven’t had sex with anybody since you.”

Jaiaina’s jaw dropped open. She didn’t know how to respond to that. She had spent the past six months hating Josh because she thought he was a slimy asshole. She didn’t know how to feel right now.

“Josh I-” She started,

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, Jaiaina,” Josh continued, his voice soft but firm. “Not right away. Aight? I know I messed up, and I know it’s not gonna be easy. But I’m willing to work this out, but only if you want to.”

Jaiaina stared into his eyes, no matter how hard she tried she would never get rid of the love she had for this man. It was a big relief to finally hear the truth about the night that they broke up but he still hurt her by ignoring her for six months.

“Please.” He whispered. “I always seen you in my life. Always seen you as the mother of my kids. Just give me one more chance.”

Jaiaina’s breath caught in her throat. This was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him in the three years they had dated.

“Okay,” She whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “But I swear on everything I love, this is your LAST chance.”

Josh's face lit up with a mixture of relief and hope. He gently took Jaiaina's hand, careful not to disturb the IV line. “I promise you, I won't mess this up again. I love you too damn much.”

Jaiaina stared at him for a second before a small smile came across her face. “I love you too.”

Authors Note: I'm sorry if this sucked 😮‍💨😫

I've had this halfway written for about a year and just decided to say fuck it and finish it. I really do hope you all enjoy it! ❤️

Side Note:

Jaiaina had torn rotator cuff.

Josh definitely bribed and threatened an intern to tell him what was wrong with Jaiaina LOL!

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@trashbin-nie @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @bebesobrielo @bookuce

@rianasixx @kat3457 @queeny23 @privateeyed95 @cyberdejos2

@justazzi @jstarr86 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vampygomez @msbigredmachine

@ashykneee @callmekayd @yana3sworld @romansthrone @alichesmi

@amandairene88 @scarlettnoir01 @bonni-98 @sassginamillls @rebelrel0987

@aikosilo @vibessonvibes @magnificentbouquetmusic @tbmotw @nayys-world

#wwe #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x fem reader #jey uso x you #jey uso x y/n #jey uso x black fem reader #wwe x black oc #wwe x black reader #wwe x reader #wwe angst #jey uso angst

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grimsonandclover · 2 months ago

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Next Last

Sympathy is a knife.1

or; Broken bones hurt less than broken girls

Stanford!Tashi x tennis player!reader

Song of the post 'Limp - Fiona Apple'

You didn't respect tennis, so why should she respect you? She hated you. The spoiled nepo-baby who's never had to work a day in her life, and yet somehow you've managed to pay your way into NYU and play on the team. Somehow, you managed to beat her last year when Stanford played NYU, and now she's scheduled to play you again at the French Open. You're a goddamnned mess, everyone knows that.

So how are you still so good?

You're a trainwreck self sabotaging in front of the world.

So why does she feel so terrible when you're on the ground, crying like that, clutching your knee? She should be celebrating. But she's not.

SFW

6k words

angst, rivals to ...something? more in part 2 whenever that is, reader's got issues, death of a parent, mommy AND daddy issues, substance abuse by the reader and possible addiction/dependancy, injury, early 2000s NYC socialite treatment, reader is very irresponsible with a DUI (ewww don't do that please), some vomit, panic attacks, some trauma post-parent death, pre-established relationship, cheating, art follows tashi like a lost puppy, suicidal thoughts/depressions, thats a weird order to put those warnings in but oh well, just overall sad times, big sister tashi, reader should get a therapist but instead she parties and plays tennis, best friend patrick

"You're fucking joking." Are the first words Tashi Duncan says when she's told that she's going to compete against you next week. They come out venom-laced and shoot from her lips like daggers. Then, she says them again. "You're fucking joking."

You, the prodigy of NYU that should've been kicked out long ago if not for your pure, unbridled talent (if unbridled talent meant daddy's money, too). You, the daughter of a late, hot-shot Hollywood producer father and triple-divorcee restauranteur mother. You, the younger sister to B-list nepo-baby actress Seline, the older sister to teenage heartthrob boyband member Jonah. You, the tennis star with her name known by people who've never even seen a single match of tennis in their life during the day, and hot-mess socialite with her DUI mugshot from last year plastered on TMZ by night, your name sprinkled over several blind items on Crazy Days And Nights despite your big-name boyfriend. You, the only person comparable in skill to Tashi Duncan. You, who had already beat her once the same week you got that DUI.

Tashi Duncan hated you.

No, hate was too simple of a word. Hate couldn't begin to describe what she felt. It was more akin to revulsion. You were revolting to her. She felt physically sick when she was in the same room as you, which wasn't often. Until now. Now she had to once again share a court with you at the French Open.

For a split second, she considered pulling out. Then, she got her shit together and remembered that she's Tashi Nicole Duncan, and she wouldn't let a mess of a person like you with no respect for the sport make her think like that.

"Art, could you call my coach?"

Her pet-- I mean, her friend did as she asked, handing the phone to her. "What's the earliest you're available tomorrow?"

"You're fucking joking..." Are the first words you say when you're told that you're going to compete against Tashi next week. They come out quiet and tired, slow and disappointed. "She hates me. She hates me and she's going to kill me.

Tashi, the prodigy of Stanford with better grades than you could ever dream of achieving. Tashi, the daughter of a very much alive working-class father and happily married once mother, oldest sister to twins Nathalie and Renee, who are very normal teenage girls still living their normal lives in high school. Tashi, the tennis star every coach wants to get their hands on, with sponsors creaming their pants for her name on their products. Tashi, who's never once been arrested because that's just not a thing well-rounded people do. TMZ has barely ever even heard of her, and nobody's ever anonymously speculated who she's sleeping with. Tashi, the only person comparable in skill to you. Tashi, who looked like she'd rather she was pronounced dead the day before than hear your name announced by the umpire last year.

Tashi Duncan hated you.

It wasn't just your insecure mind making that up, either. She made it blatantly obvious that she did when you went to shake her hand after winning against her. You could still see the laser-hot glare she gave you if you closed your eyes. Feel the iron grip of her soft hands on yours, like she was restraining herself from snapping your wrist. You didn't look forward to seeing those eyes stare holes into your skull until you got a headache, again, next week.

"Maybe I shouldn't go this year. I don't know... I mean, I just recovered from my ankle, and-"

"Don't be ridiculous." Your best friend, Patrick, cut you off, rolling his eyes. "You're not a pussy bitch, you're a tennis player. Act like one."

Despite his choice of words, you knew it came from a good place. The reassuring smile on him reaffirmed that. Patrick seemingly knew what you were capable of better than you did. "You're going to do fine."

Charlie, your boyfriend, patted your shoulder as he passed you to grab a bottle of water, offering no words of comfort past that. He never tried much in that department. Or most departments, it seemed. It's like he thought relationships were like modeling: show up and look pretty, that's all. You were there showering him with praise and words of affirmation when he had a stomach bug during fashion week and was scared he couldn't walk. Charlie reciprocated by patting you on the shoulder while you paced your living room.

Turning to your mom, who was sitting in a chair nearby, didn't do much to help ease your anxiety like Patrick's words did, though. She was on her phone, texting and calling the dozens of people she kept in contact with a day. It took her a minute to realize you were trying to get her attention.

"Oh, Christ, Y/N, you'll be fine." She waved her hand nonchalantly. "You'll win and it'll all be fine. And if you don't, well... maybe she'll feel like you're even. How's that?"

God, your feet were killing you in these chunky platforms. Is that wet patch on your skinny jeans from a spilled drink or are you so drunk you wet yourself on the dancefloor? Where are you, what's the name of this place? Patrick doesn't seem to know, either. You're pretty sure Paris is about two shots away from making out with him, based on the way she's staring at him. Why the fuck did you choose to wear skinny jeans, these are miserable. The sequin dress was right there. Is the music louder than usual? The brights are too light right now-- wait, shit, no, the lights are too bright. Where's Patrick?

You feel bile rise in your throat and shove a girl out of the way so you throw up into the club toilet. It tastes like strawberry and tequila and shit. Someone's banging their fist on the stall door begging to piss, and you can hear moaning and skin slapping in the other stall. Fifty-fifty chance it's Patrick. Twenty-eighty chance it's Patrick and Paris.

You flush, wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and stumble out the stall to the sinks. God, you're a mess. You know you started the night with two hoop earrings, where did the other one go? The couple in the stall are so loud, and you can definitely recognize the sound of Patrick now. Mascara is smudgeding and it's making your eyes irritated and water, but you didn't think to use anything waterproof.

You almost trip over yourself and have a repeat of last time (the time you sprained your ankle at 1OAK and couldn't play properly for three weeks) as you approach the stall, knocking on the door. "Patrick," you gag a little as bile threatens to resurface, "Pat we gotta... gotta go. It's..." you pull your phone from your bra, "Fuck, it's three. Amber's gon' fuckin' killllllllll me." Amber being your coach. You wonder how not-hungover you'll be able to act when you see her in three hours.

It takes a couple more bangs on the door for him to stop. You can hear clothes shuffling, some giggling and whispers, and the zip of his fly before the stall door opens. Paris stumbles out with a giggle, adjusting her skirt before announcing that she's gonna go find Kim, and 'good luck with Amber.'

You're barely standing and conscious, but you're not so out of it to not notice how he looks. White residue on his nostril tells all. "You've got coke?"

Patrick steps out of the stall, eyeing a girl at the sink throwing him dirty looks in the mirror before he looks back to you. "You know what I'm going to say to that, Y/N."

"Come on, just enough to keep me up. I'm gonna crash by four."

"No."

"Patrick."

"No."

You huff, leaning back on the counter and crossing your arms. "Fuck you. Since when did you join the morals police?"

"Since last week."

That's not a pleasant reminder. You want to slap him in that moment, even if it was a perfectly reasonable excuse for his sudden reluctance to feed your craving. You were a nightmare to everyone you knew last week. And the week before. You wonder how far back this could go. "Fuck you."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs, wiping his nose again and checking himself out in the mirror, adjusting his jacket.

TMZ, oh how you loathe them, has pictures of you leaving the club by the time you're meeting Amber on the rooftop court of your residence. She's livid, as she always seems to be. Like someone shoved a lemon in her mouth and no one told her she could just spit it out. "You're late. You've got the Open in four days and you're fucking late. And hungover."

"It's only two hours."

Your voice is tired and croaking, and you haven't slept longer than two since yesterday. Hungover is a generous diagnosis. You're still drunk. Charlie, who was absent from your all-nighter club hopping, makes sure you don't trip over yourself going up the stairs to the roof before leaving your side to lounge on the pool chairs. Someone texted you "Hey girl, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but..." around the time you made it out of bed, but you deleted the text before you saw any more of it. Your mind wanders to that text when you look at him.

"Two hours, my ass. Christ, I should quit."

Amber threatens leaving you as much as you promise it won't happen again. Like 'yes', 'no', and 'You do this one more time and so help me God I will make sure you can never find a coach again,' are all the basis of her vocabulary. You play and pay too well for her to ever commit to those threats.

Practice goes on until your bones ache and cry for a break. Charlie's fallen asleep with a magazine tucked under his chin. Amber leaves for the poolside cabana and calls her girlfriend while you just lay on the ground, staring at the clouds. The adrenaline starts to wear off, meaning you feel like shit. Your mouth is incredibly dry, the sun is blinding. It's like your body remembered that you're meant to be hungover and is only now catching up. At least it's after practice. Not that you did all that well. You can hear Amber argue with her girlfriend over the phone and it only makes you feel worse about being such a horrible player by showing up late and half-shitfaced. You knew they were going through a rough patch. Least you could do is make her job easier.

Closing your eyes is only temporary relief. You can still hear the cars from the streets below and Amber whisper-yell into the receiver. "I told you already... Wednesday's no good, no... well then tell them to reschedule... Rebecca, it's not like you didn't know what kind of schedule I've got when we started dating..."

It feels like your legs are going to snap when you roll over, hands planted on the hard court ground and you silently beg your muscles to push you up. You're dizzy, the doubled, now tripled vision bringing back the bile from last night/this morning to the base of your throat, but you swallow it down. Over your shoulder, you look at the pool, the sunlight bouncing from the cold water. Amber's on the other side of it, brows furrowed. She sees you watching her and turns around, back facing you.

She turns back around when she hears a splash. You fell face-first into the pool. On purpose. The cool water feels amazing, the sting from hitting the water nothing compared to the ache in your bones that has been there since childhood. You open your eyes, watching your hair billow around you like smoke, the way the sun glimmers on the surface like sparkles, the shadow peering over the ledge. "Oh, god. I'll call you later, Becca. I love you."

When was the last time Charlie said he loved you?

It's so quiet under the water. You wish the bubbles that escape your lips and float above you would carry out everything you hold in your chest. Then you could float like they do.

Like all moments of perfect peace, it doesn't last long. Babies must leave the safety of their mother's womb. People wake up every morning despite wishing to stay in bed and fall back into nothing. Amber reaches into the water and grabs your arm to tug you out and you feel like you could cry. The first wail, the sign of life. Opening your eyes to the sun leaking through blinds, signaling to you it's morning.

Is death truly the only time we have? When you ask Amber, she just frowns and tells you to stop drinking as she dries your hair with a towel.

"Come on, Y/N. Put your back into it!"

The ball barely makes it over the net, bounce, bounce, bouncing down the other side of the court. The racket is heavy in your small hands, but he won't let you put it down yet. "Dad, I can't." You whine.

"What did I say about can'ts?"

You should bite your tongue. Can't's for quitters. "Maybe I am a quitter!"

He stomps across the court, grabbing the collar of your little tennis whites. Despite the action, there's no violence behind it. "No daughter of mine is a quitter."

His voice is low, like he's whispering a secret to you. "You can."

Your collar is let go and your father stands straight. "And you will. Now, do it again like Ronald taught you."

It's Renaud. Grabbing another ball from the basket behind you, you try again. And again. And again. By the time you're done, your arms are sore for days to come and you've got blisters on your feet. He makes you drop out of your preschool Mother's Day dance to practice with Renaud instead. You had the dance down pat, practicing it for weeks.

You only ever started playing because he wanted you to. Maybe five-year-old you should've held your ground more.

Tashi bit the inner skin of her lips, her mother talking casually into her ear through the phone. "And Nathalie, well, you know how she felt about it all. Cried the whole way home."

"Is she alright? Well, clearly not, but..." She zips up the final suitcase on her bed, taking a breath. They were flying out tomorrow, the Open being the day after.

Her mother sighs, nodding her head even though her daughter can't see. "She will be, in time. First heartbreak's going to be pretty tough, poor girl."

A knock on her dorm door pulls Tashi's attention from the call. Looking up, she sees Art peeking in. She holds her finger up, asking him to wait. "Well, let Beetle know that she can call or text me about it anytime. She forgets to check my texts."

"You forget to call."

Tashi huffs. Her mother's right, of course. It's not on purpose, it's just she's constantly go, go, going, her phone often goes forgotten. "Still. I'll pick up whenever she wants me."

Her eyes trail a bird outside her window. It hops across the little ledge, pecking at something on the brick. She wished she had wings. Tashi would just up and fly to her family right now. It's been two months since she last hugged her sisters. Did they forget how she felt? Sometimes, when she can't sleep, Tashi thinks about when they were just little soft fleshy things in bassinets, waking her up at night as they cried in her parent's bedroom. Now, Nathalie was going through her first breakup and Renee was going through some rebellious phase back home.

"You've got your hotel booked for tomorrow?" Tashi asks after a moment, biting her lip again. She can't help it, her worries jump from one subject to another.

"Yes, Tash. I love you, we all love you. We're booked, we're packed, we're ready. I've gotta go finish dinner, have you eaten?"

Tashi hums a response, smiling to herself. "I miss your cooking, mom."

"I miss you. Now, get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow."

When the call ends, Art steps in fully. "Everything with Nat alright?"

She frowns in response, shaking her head and sitting at the edge of the small single in her dorm. The old mattress creaks under her, the weight of dozens like her over the years taking its toll on the springs. "Brodie and her broke up last night at some party. Nat's taking it kinda hard."

He frowns with her and sighs. "I do not miss high school..."

"What'd you come in here for?" Tashi asks after a moment, turning to face him better. She tucks a leg under the other thigh, and Art's eyes catch on the flexing muscle under the warm toffee skin for a moment. Blinking hard, he sits beside her, grabbing one of her pillows to play with. It's a nervous habit of Art's. "It's about her."

When Seline sees the news, she doesn't call. Just sends a text asking if you're alright. Jonah does call, but you don't pick up. You know if you do it'll be like pouring your feelings to a brick wall. And then, when you're done, the brick wall will recite some line from his therapist and ask you for your new dealer's number, and that will be that. Your mother has stopped trying all-together.

Tashi feels a strange sense of pity when Art shows her the headlines, an emotion she doesn't associate with you.

Charlie, mid-grind at the club, decided he no longer liked playing your boyfriend. He forgot to relay that information to you, though. Honest mistake, he assumed you'd gather that when he turned around and stuck his tongue down another girl's throat. Oh, you should've seen the look on your face.

All those unrequited 'I love you's coming back to hit you in the face in a single moment. You had even tossed one on the way here. One that he let hit his turned shoulder and slide off the curve of it like bird shit. Now, here you were, frozen on the dance floor as you watched your boyfriend of a year make it painfully clear how much it all meant to him. Charlie Maddox was known for his looks, never his brain or heart. You tried so desperately to make up for it. You'd rip the beating muscle in your chest out for him and for what?

You've never been good at holding in your emotions. You were the 'wear your heart on your sleeve' kind of gal, much to your dismay. Meaning, you slapped him in the middle of the crowd, screaming something about love and his small dick (it was average), and stormed out of the club only to be met with dozens of paparazzi who were always there waiting for someone to leave. Patrick was just getting another drink at the bar when you left, missing the whole thing. You barely made it five steps out the door, tears streaming down your face, ankles twisting with every step, before taking a detour and puking in the alley behind a dumpster. Pictures were taken of every moment. One guy even ran up and took a picture of the puddle.

Sure he wasn't the best boyfriend, and it was a long time coming, but you weren't exactly in the mental state for such a sudden change in relationship status. You flew to France tomorrow. Amber said no distractions. Here Charlie was, throwing a wrench in everything with his stupid model face and his stupid model lips and his stupid model ego. You think you would've married him if he asked. Have his stupid model babies. Not like he ever would want that with you. How pathetic are you?

You're a hiccuping, sobbing mess. Why'd you take the train here? That club was hardly worth the trip.

It's embarrassing to be sitting on the subway seats, slumped down as you stare at the floor. Not because of your status or who you are, but because... well, just look at the state of you. Your hair is a mess from partying for hours on end, you ripped your heels off your feet the moment you sat down (and they've already been stolen), mascara is running down your cheeks and frankly, you haven't stopped crying. You try to cover your face when you see camera phones curiously life up, some obvious and some not so obvious. The guy next to you gives you the side eye, squinting like he's trying to tell if he recognizes you.

You just want to curl up and die. That girl, the one Charlie practically impregnated through a kiss with his tongue so far down her throat he could probably taste her lunch, looked like Mila Kunis. It wasn't, of course, but she looked like her. Why didn't you look like her? Maybe then he'd stay. He'd try and taste your lunch. Or maybe it wasn't looks. Something that you felt like you had even less control over. You cry a little harder.

If your dad was here he'd have something to say. He'd have some schpiel about life and relationships that you probably wouldn't want to hear anyway, but at least you'd be hearing him. You'd take just about anything. Your phone rings with Patrick's number and you don't pick up. The guy next to you snaps a picture. You wonder if your dealer has anything available. Amber's going to murder you in cold blood. You'd welcome it just about now. The P.A. announces the next stop, and it's not yours, and it would be an hour of walking barefoot across New York to get to your place, but you leave the subway anyway when it comes to a stop. Because that guy kind of stank, and a kid was crying too loudly, and you could hear someone calling someone else to talk about who they just saw on the train, and you just wanted to go home.

The walk was miserable. Your feet hurt and you had to put too much attention for your liking on where you were stepping so you wouldn't get some uncurable disease from the sidewalk. Less people noticed you on the streets, but someone had clearly let the press know what train you were on and they knew if you'd left by foot, they could probably catch up. They did. Now, they had pictures of you crying leaving the club, crying on the New York City subway, and crying walking home. Fantastic. By now you were known more for your tears than your tennis. You'd hail a cab but it was rush hour, and there's no point in even trying then.

You knew it was a fruitless effort asking for them to stop taking picture of you, but you tried anyway. All requests were drowned out by the snapping clicks of the cameras. You were still drunk, and the flashes made your eyes burn and head spin. Your name was being called all around you.

"Need a ride home?" "What happened with Charlie?" "Any news you can share about your sister's latest project?" "Chin up, darling, I can't get your face." "Excited for your match with Tashi Duncan, Y/N?" "Hey, you need some shoes?"

You look over to the guy who just offered you shoes, stopping in your miserable and painful tracks. He's at least wearing socks when he pulls his sneakers off. They're a size or so too big, like clown shoes, but they get the job done. You thank him, and then go back to keeping your head down as you walk. You can already see the headlines.

Your head was spinning so much you didn't know if you could play. You're on the stationary bike to warm up, an hour or so until your match. An hour or so until you face her. You already spent last night with Amber on the practice courts, getting re-used to how the clay changes the speed of the ball, perfecting your strikes as best you can. She offered to take you again, but you were too nauseous to go. That seems to be a constant for you.

Patrick's back in New York. He's got his own tennis career to take care of, but he's sending you texts here and there. Words of encouragement.

"picture her naked or smething"

"actually no dont do that. that wouldnt even work for me"

"make chuck realize what hes missing by winning"

"i just took the fattest shit!!!! oooooh I wanna send you the pic soooo bad. thatll take ur mind off of it"

You had to block his number for a good fifteen minutes just in case. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done that. That did almost get a laugh out of you if you weren't still so nervous.

Someone was watching on the small TV in the corner of the room, you think it was Rebecca. They're saying it's going to rain tomorrow, but that's all you can understand. So much for those French classes you took for five years straight. You tried to focus on the blurring syllables you once knew as you cycled.

Seline sends you a bouquet of good-luck flowers, but she forgets you're allergic. Jonah forgot altogether that the Open was today, and you don't have it in you to remind your little brother. He's on tour anyway, what could he really do?

Tashi's pacing the practice courts with her coach, Art in the corner talking with her mom as they half-watch her. She's stressed out of her mind. She played and won the Australian Open earlier last year. To win this would already take her halfway to a career Grand Slam. Tashi needed this. To have anyone like you get in the way of that would be unacceptable.

Her coach is doing his best to assure her she'll win. Forget last time, this was it.

"I mean, have you seen her lately?" He said with a scoffed laugh. "Nobody wins an Open like that."

You have. You won the Australian Open, too, a few years ago at 16, and you were equally off the rocks back then. It didn't do much to quell her nerves. "You've put in the work, Tash. You've been training for years, harder than she could ever imagine doing. It's in the bag. All you need to be worrying about is where you're gonna put your Suzanne Lenglin cup."

"It's only the first round. Once you get through the initial nerves, the rest will go by like nothing."

"Right." You said with no real believability. Amber was leaning over the front of the stationary bike and you slowed down your cycling, nearing the end of the warm-up. "Except it's not just the first round."

It's Tashi. It's Charlie. It's Seline, and Jonah, and your mom. It's the first major tournament you've played since...

Since him.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Amber could hear all of it just by looking at you, and she had nothing left to offer but a pitying sigh and a pat on your shoulder. Even Patrick, now unblocked again, had nothing left to offer through the phone.

Nathalie is crying on the couch and Renee is doing her best to console her twin when Tashi returns to the player room, their mother and Art following behind. She starts doing stretches in the middle of the room as she addresses her weeping sister. "Beetle, he isn't worth your tears. You know that."

Tashi's mother wraps warm arms around her twins. "Baby, heartbreak heals. You're left only with the unconditional love you hold for yourself. Let it out."

It was her mantra. Words she'd repeat after all three of the sister's occasional breakups. Time heals all wounds.

Tired legs climb off the bike. You overdid it, and Amber silently panics that the overexertion will affect your playing. The couch facing the door connected to the player's tunnel is plush enough. Thoughts trail off to your family, all of which aren't here to watch you play.

Your mother was in France, too. You asked her to come but she was busy meeting with vendors for her new restaurant. Seline was on set for some blockbuster horror film back home. Jonah, well... maybe you should text him a quick 'hey, just letting you know im about to play one of the biggest tournaments a tennis player can, against the scariest woman I know. wish me luck!' But you don't. And your father. Oh, your father. He might've been the only one out of all of them willing to show up.

That doesn't matter now, though. He won't.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

He won't.

Breathing gets a little harder to do, even though you're sitting.

He won't, he won't, he won't, he can't.

The words are falling out of your mouth now like sand seeping through the cracks in fingers. "He's not here. My dad's not here."

Your wild eyes look up to Amber, whose head whips to you. Her heart drops. Rebecca stops watching the TV. You've been here before.

"Amber, he's not here. He's not here. I can't play, he's not--"

A knock on the door, your name being called by two voices. One tells you to breathe, the other tells you that "they're ready for you."

You can only assume what comes from who as tears blur in your waterline. Thump, thump, thump, thump.

He's not here. The one person in your life that always would be. The one person who promised not to leave.

Tashi threw up after she played you and lost. Tashi Duncan lost.

Stanford Vs. NYU. She should've had it in the bag. It should've been nothing.

Top players lost all the time. It's a fact. Human error, lucky streak for the opponent, off-days. Not for Tashi. Losing to you was a slap in the face. It shook her confidence in herself so bad she didn't know how she'd recover. It was only when she played and won the Australian Open later that year, with you nowhere to be seen, that she got it back.

She spent a weekend learning everything she could about you. A weak moment in her own eyes, but she had to know more about the person who made her crumble. It wasn't hard to do-- researching you. You were in the press constantly, along with the rest of your family.

Your DUI and countless failed relationships, your sister getting thrown out of galas for fighting with other actresses, your brother sleeping with groupies and their tall tales about the ordeal, your mother's countless failed business ventures post-modeling career, and your father. Life and death.

Tashi had found an old interview of yours, done right after your own Australian Open win at 16. You mentioned how he's responsible for it all, pushing you to play since as long as you could remember. How despite his crazy career as one of the big producers in Hollywood, he'd still make time in his schedule to be there for all your games. He was your biggest critic and biggest fan, you said. That you didn't know where you'd be without him in any sense of the word.

When she checked the date of the interview, her heart stopped for a moment. A week before his accident. She even remembers seeing it on the news. How Tashi looked over to her dad as he folded laundry on the couch, watching it with her. "Hollywood producer found dead in major collision in L.A. A break malfunction is the suspected cause."

Maybe that moment, reading that interview on her bed with her father knocking on the door to offer tea, was the first time she saw you more than a mess. More as a hurt, teenage girl. Maybe she forgot it all, though, looking at you now.

You couldn't sit in a car for three months without having a panic attack after it happened. The mere mention of them could even make you spiral. It was after the funeral that you started your infamous 'spiral down the drain'. There was so much paparazzi outside the cemetery gates.

It's the only reason you didn't try to compete in any of the Grand Slam tournaments after winning the Australian at 16. Every time you picked up a racket for the next four years, you heard his nagging voice in your head.

"Come on. Not good enough. Put your goddamn all into it!"

"You're not getting a Grand Slam with this attitude. Do it again."

It was too much to do anything bigger than challengers or school tournaments. Every single one left you teary-eyed in the locker rooms before and after. Amber suggested a therapist several times, but nothing came of it.

You can still see the look of pride on his face after you won the Open. Every time you close your fucking eyes, he's there. Such a rare treat to see him smile, and you did it.

You thought you'd be ready now. You told Amber you're ready. It's been four years, damn it. You're supposed to be over it. What happened to time heals all wounds?

All this time, you thought you were scared of seeing Tashi again after beating her in '06. It's only now, the crowd in your ears as your name is announced, that you realize how wrong you were. He's still there, in the back of your heart. Oh, how that bit of flesh has been carved out over the years of your brief life. How it still beats, after all the shit you've put it through, only to make him proud. Could you ever make him proud again?

The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, thump.

A tennis ball soars over the polyethylene net in a perfect arch. Long-loved Chanel tennis sneakers skid across the clay ground, arm slicing through the tension and humidity in the air. Thwack! The ball is launched back to Tashi Duncan. "Come on. Not good enough."

Then, the hitch of your breath; a sharp intake like more air in your lungs would be the thing to save you.

Sweat drips from your brow to your cheekbone, sliding down like a tear. From the back of your neck down your spine like a chill. Even from this distance, you can see the drops slide down her temples and the slope of her chin. Another crack emanates from her racket. You brace for impact. You see your father behind the net.

The court ground under your feet scraping. The sound of skin ripping open in thousands of tiny cuts, the cccccrrrrrrrrack! of bone. Bone. The gasps of the crowd. The crack of bone. Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Then, the only thing anyone can hear is the shriek of your cry.

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#challengers #challengers 2024 #tashi duncan #x reader #angst #challengers fic #tashi duncan x reader #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #tashi duncan fic #zendaya #patrick zweig #art donaldson #enemies to.... whatever you call this #this took so long #tashi nation rise #dont let this SIX THOUSAND WORD FIC flop PLEASE

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whosscruffylooking · 1 month ago

Text

Open Arms Chapter One

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist word count : 6k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things This chapter takes place during Season 2 Episodes 1-5

~1984~

Chapter Two

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Another day in Hawkins. Another day of high school. Another day stuck in the same small, sleepy town you’ve known for as long as you can remember. It feels like nothing ever changes here, like every day just blurs into the next, predictable and quiet.

Every day, you wake up wishing for some kind of miracle, something that could shake things up, make life a little less ordinary. Something that could turn your world… Upside Down.

“Y/N!” your mom calls out from the kitchen, “Is Steve giving you a ride today?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Mom, seriously…when was the last time Steve drove me to school? He has a girlfriend to pick up now.”

Steve, your best friend since the first grade. To everyone else he was The Reigning King of Hawkins High. To you he was just the boy next door who reigns havoc on your life, makes everything a little more complicated whether you want it or not.

Your mom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend.”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

She gives a little shrug. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be nice to be taken out on a date once in a while?”

“Mom,” you sigh, “please take your matchmaking somewhere else.”

She’s not wrong, though. You haven’t let yourself even think about dating anyone else since the last “almost” with Steve. Around a year ago, he’d done something reckless enough to mess up things with Nancy, and she seemed to be getting closer to Jonathan Byers. You had just gotten out of a relationship yourself.

It happens every time: he messes things up with a girl, or you’re fresh out of a breakup, and suddenly, like clockwork, you’re back in each other’s lives, circling each other. It’s as if you’re both bound to this endless cycle of almosts—falling together just to fall apart again. You know the game by heart, and you’re tired of it, tired of the late nights that never lead to anything real, the unspoken words that hang heavy in the air between you both. But still, you can’t seem to let go.

Nothing ever actually happens. You just end up crashing at each other’s houses, watching movies till you both fall asleep, or driving out to Lover’s Lake to stargaze and rant about your trainwreck love lives. But you both know what it is—and what it isn’t. The truth is, you’re bound by a history no one else could touch. Growing up together, you made the stupid decision of being a lot of each other’s firsts, and you’ve always been the one person who truly gets him. It’s a bond that runs deeper than most things in your life, yet it never seems to go anywhere beyond these stolen moments. And maybe that’s why it hurts the most—knowing he’s always right there but never fully yours.

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At school, you overhear the girls in the hallway whispering about the new guy in town. Though “guy” isn’t the word they use—they’re calling him a real man, with a muscle car to match and actual muscles to back it up. You’ve never been the type to shy away from guys, and you’ve certainly never had any trouble attracting attention. Still, something about the way they talk about him piques your curiosity, though you’d never admit it.

You notice the once-empty locker beside yours is finally in use, a few things tossed inside. You wonder briefly who claimed it. That curiosity doesn’t last long.

“Excuse me, gorgeous, but I think that’s my locker.”

You turn to find the living, breathing embodiment of the girls’ descriptions. Tall, sharp-jawed, with piercing blue eyes, and that effortless, cocky grin. You don’t even have to ask if it’s him.

“Oh—my bad,” you say, stepping aside.

“And what’s your name?” he asks, his smile unwavering.

Who does he remind you of?

“Y/N…” You try to pinpoint it, that nagging sense of familiarity.

He tosses his keys into the locker, eyes still fixed on yours, something almost playful in his gaze.

Then it hits you.

“I’m—”

“Knight Rider?” you say slyly, a smirk playing at your lips. He blushes just a little, caught off guard, and you savor the small victory.

“Well played,” he says, taking your hand into his for a confident but gentle shake.

“That’s just the beginning,” you respond, shutting your locker with a quiet click, eager to keep the mystery between you two alive.

“I hope so. I’m Billy by the way,” he replies, his voice softer now, still slightly in awe of you. There’s something in his eyes—a challenge. And you can tell, he’s baited.

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At lunch, you find yourself walking through the crowded cafeteria, scanning the room for a familiar face. As luck would have it, you bump into Nancy and Steve near the food line.

“Hey,” Steve greets, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “What did you think of the new guy? Total douche, right?”

You catch the look on his face, a mix of hope and something else you can’t quite place. It’s clear he’s fishing for your opinion, eager for you to agree with him.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean…” Your voice comes out just a bit higher than usual, betraying your uncertainty. “He’s like the entire cast of The Outsiders wrapped up in one package.” You leave it at that, the playful jab hanging in the air between you three.

Nancy chuckles, gripping her tray closely as she looks between you and Steve. You take the opportunity to point at her, nodding toward Steve. “Looks like your girl might agree with me too.”

Nancy gasps and bursts into laughter. “I don’t know, I guess. He’s not really my type though.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “That’s so funny, because I’m pretty sure I saw a David Hasselhoff photo in your locker just last week?”

Steve’s face falls slightly, and you catch the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh please,” he says, his tone a bit too defensive, “he is not David Hasselhoff.”

“Knight Rider,” Nancy interjects, her eyes darting between you and Steve. You both freeze, caught off guard.

“What?” You ask, happy she sees the resemblance too.

Nancy looks back and forth between you two, realization dawning on her. “He has the car, the curls, and the mus—muscle car.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing her. “You just said the car twice. Sure you didn’t mean another kind of muscle?”

Nancy giggles at your comment, but Steve pushes you playfully, though there’s a layer of something more in his touch—like he’s trying to keep things light but it doesn’t quite feel like it used to.

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Steve mutters under his breath, though it’s more playful than anything else.

You smile, your tone laced with the usual teasing. “All too often.”

But as you both lock eyes, something shifts. It’s not just a playful exchange anymore. The usual banter feels heavy now, the space between you both thick with unspoken words. Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same distance creeping between you two that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You quickly look away, forcing the feeling down as Nancy continues to laugh, unaware of the sudden tension lingering.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You’re walking down the hall, a few steps ahead of Steve, the sounds of lockers slamming and voices all around you fading as the tension between you both hangs in the air. Every time you glance over your shoulder, his gaze is already on you—lingering, just a bit too long.

You both fall into an uneasy silence. It’s not the comfortable quiet you used to share, but something heavier. Something unspoken.

You stop for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’ll see you in class,” you murmur, turning to leave.

But Steve’s voice stops you. “Hey,” he calls softly, his hand brushing yours as he steps into your path. His touch is warm, too warm for something so casual. His fingers linger for a split second before he pulls away, but the moment still sits between you, unresolved.

You look up, meeting his eyes. His usual cocky confidence is gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to break the silence.

“Steve…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You want to say something that makes it all feel normal again, but the words feel stuck in your throat.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again. “Never mind.” The smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes again. It’s strained, tight. And suddenly, you can’t look at him anymore.

Turning quickly, you walk past him, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

From down the hall, Nancy watches the exchange, arms folded, leaning against the locker as she observes. There’s no jealousy in her gaze—she’s been there too. She knows the space between two people who care for each other but don’t know how to bridge it. She’s seen it with Jonathan, with the way they get tangled in unspoken words and moments that feel like too much, but too little at the same time. It’s just the way things go sometimes.

───⋆｡°✩🕰️✩°｡⋆───

*Flashback*

2 years ago

It’s a Friday afternoon, and the hallways of Hawkins High are quieter than usual. Most of the students have gone home, leaving the echoes of footsteps and lockers slamming shut. You and Steve are walking side by side, the familiar warmth of his presence at your side like it always has been—comforting, easy.

You laugh as Steve pulls an exaggerated face, trying to get you to laugh at his antics as he mimics one of the teachers. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re such an idiot,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He bumps you back, almost knocking you into the lockers. “You love me for it,” he smirks, and there’s a hint of something else in his gaze, something unspoken that lingers between you, like a question neither of you has the courage to ask.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no denying the way your heart skips. “Yeah, maybe,” you say, trying to brush it off. But you both know that maybe means something more.

You reach the end of the hallway, your steps slowing as the moment stretches, neither of you wanting to be the first to turn back, to end this rare, quiet time between just the two of you.

He glances over at you, his steps slowing, his voice quieter when he speaks again. “Hey, so… Bryan still around?”

You stop walking, surprised by the question, but it’s Steve, and it’s always been easy with him. “No,” you reply, shaking your head. “He’s out of the picture.”

Steve’s expression softens, a slight smile playing on his lips as if the weight of something between you two has been lifted. “Good. He never really seemed like the right guy for you.”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected warmth in his words, but you don’t let it show. “Yeah, well… sometimes you don’t really see things until it’s too late.”

Steve nods, looking down for a moment as if he’s trying to decide something. He looks back up at you, his usual carefree grin returning. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight, you wanna come over to my place? We can grab some takeout, watch movies… you know, normal hangout stuff.”

There’s something in his invitation that feels different this time, but you brush it off. It’s Steve. He always invites you over. You’ve done it a million times before—movies, pizza, talking about everything and nothing. It’s what you do.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sounds good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression shifting. You feel your stomach flutter, the air between you thickening as the playful banter dies down.

You find yourself leaning in, just a bit, and you see Steve’s breath catch, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours.

But before you can get any closer, a loud bang from down the hall makes both of you snap apart like you’ve been caught.

You both step back, instantly awkward, eyes darting everywhere except at each other. The spell breaks, but the tension still lingers, heavy in the air. You glance at Steve, and his expression is unreadable—like he’s trying to hide something, or maybe it’s you who’s hiding it.

You break the silence first, a half-laugh escaping your lips. “Well… that was close.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed but also relieved. “Yeah, totally. We’re just—uh, messing around, right?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but your heart is racing, and you know he feels it too. “Right. Just messing around.”

But neither of you says anything more. You both head in opposite directions down the hallway, still feeling the echo of what almost happened, both of you wondering if the other is thinking about it too.

───⋆｡°✩🕰️✩°｡⋆───

At last, it’s the day of the party. You’ve spent longer than you’d like to admit getting ready, but you’re finally happy with your look. Blue bell-bottom jeans, a tight orange top with a center zip that falls just below the line of modesty—it’s bold, but you feel good in it. Confident, even.

You arrive at the party, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside you. The music pulses through the house, and people are scattered, laughing and talking, their faces blurry in the haze of a dimly lit room. As much as you try to act like you don’t care, the anxiety creeps in. Funny how someone so confident can still feel out of place in a crowd.

You push through, trying to find your core group, but as you weave through the bodies, there’s really only one person you’re looking for. Steve. The one person who has always had a way of making you feel like you belong.

On your way through the crowd, you bump into Jonathan Byers. Another one of your longtime friends. You’ve all grown up together in Hawkins, so you’ve seen each other through the years—some friendships stronger than others, but still, it’s hard to forget those familiar faces.

“Jonathan!” you call out with a smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “Loving the look, very you.” You nod at his usual, low-key style—flannel and jeans. He’s always been the quiet, thoughtful one in the group, and you just want him to feel good about his understated vibe.

“I like… your shirt,” he says, his words trailing off awkwardly.

Well, at least your shirt is doing what you intended it to. Maybe just not with the target audience.

“Looking for Nancy?” you ask, hoping he’ll pick up the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jonathan responds, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t really associate with anyone else here.”

You put on a mock-offended face, “Ouch.”

He immediately backpedals, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, you were gone for a while. We kinda lost touch.” His gaze drops a little, clearly uncomfortable, referring to the time when your parents separated again, and you spent some months with your mom in California. It had been a rough time for you, especially being away from Steve. You’re still not sure how you survived that.

“Well, I’m back now,” you say, brushing off the past. “Come on, join me. I’m on a mission to find Steve and Nancy.”

Jonathan nods, grateful for the company. “Alright, lead the way.”

And there he is, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, laughing at something someone said, a bottle of beer loosely held in his hand. He’s effortlessly cool as usual, but there’s something different tonight. Maybe it’s the way his eyes flicker over to Nancy every now and then, or the tightness in his posture that betrays the casual air he’s trying to maintain.

Nancy stands next to him, arms crossed, her jaw clenched in that familiar way when she’s upset—though it’s hard to say if it’s the alcohol or something else that’s fueling her frustration tonight. She’s leaning a little too heavily on the counter, her face flushed, the words she’s muttering barely audible over the noise of the party.

Steve’s smile is gone now, replaced by a more serious expression. He’s trying to keep things light, but it’s clear she’s not having it.

As you and Jonathan walk toward the kitchen, you spot Steve and Nancy in their little world, tucked away by the counter. You can hear the edge in Nancy’s voice, even from a distance, though you can’t make out the words. Jonathan follows your gaze, his brow furrowing. You can’t blame him for looking the way he does—he’s been around long enough to know the dance between Steve and Nancy.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, though it feels more like an automatic question than one you really expect an answer to. You’ve seen enough of this cycle to know the routine.

Jonathan glances over, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t think so,” he says, a rare seriousness in his tone. “But you know Nancy. She’ll push through.”

You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you watch Steve’s stance shift, his body leaning toward Nancy as if trying to reach her without crowding her, trying to give her space but also not let her slip too far away. There’s something fragile in the air, something more than just the tension between them. It’s like Steve’s holding on by a thread, and maybe Nancy is, too, but neither of them wants to admit it.

“You should probably go talk to them,” Jonathan says, glancing at you. He doesn’t know what to say either, but it’s obvious that Steve’s been trying to manage things on his own. You could step in—or let him handle it.

You glance at Jonathan again, silently debating what to do. Jonathan nudges you gently with his elbow. “You good?” he asks. You nod, taking a step forward, your voice hesitant but warm. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to break through the tension without adding to it.

Nancy shoots you a sharp look before turning away, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got that defeated, yet resigned, look on his face as he exhales deeply. He’s trying to hide it, but the frustration is written all over him.

“Just the usual,” Steve says with a small, forced smile, looking at you.

Nancy, still with her arms crossed, shoots you a look that says more than her words do. It’s not that she’s mad at you; it’s just that she doesn’t want to be the center of attention right now. She’s not ready to have the conversation.

Jonathan stands by you, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to say something. You don’t know what the right thing is. The silence in the room is thick now.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Nancy slurs, her words trailing off as she pushes past Steve, who’s still trying to calm her down.

“Please don’t,” Steve says, his voice low and frustrated, but he’s too late. He sighs and chases after her, leaving you standing alone for the moment.

Not long after, a voice you’re starting to recognize from the past few days calls out from behind you.

“So if I’m Knight Rider, then who does that make you?” Billy’s voice is smooth, cocky, and unmistakable. He’s standing just a few feet away now, that grin still plastered on his face.

You turn to meet his gaze, letting a playful smile tug at the corners of your lips. You raise an eyebrow, a silent challenge in your eyes. “You’ll have to learn more about me to find out.”

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowing with amusement. “When?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a split second, you feel that old rush of excitement—the thrill of the unknown. Remembering your mom’s less-than-subtle hints this morning, you decide to play along.

“How about Wednesday night? We can go see the new Terminator movie. You look like someone who appreciates a little Arnold Schwarzenegger,” you say, testing the waters, letting a hint of flirtation slip into your voice.

Billy doesn’t hesitate, that confident grin of his widening. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up. And…I’ve been to the gym Arnold works out in.”

You raise your hand to stop him, a slight smirk on your face. “Right…I’m sure you have. Also, I’ve seen how you drive your car. Maybe I’ll meet you there,” you tease, enjoying the playful banter.

He chuckles, stepping back, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “I’ll go nice and slow just for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something you haven’t felt in a while. But as you look past him, your eyes flicker briefly to Steve, catching him trying to pry the solo cup out of Nancy’s hand. Just as the music halts, that red solo cup and the red mystery punch within it spills all over Nancy’s white shirt.

Her face is in complete disbelief, she sways back and forth her reaction clearly slowed down by her alcohol intake.

“Screw you.”

Jonathan follows her quickly into the bathroom.

“You know,” Billy starts again, “Rumor has it that you and Harrington have quite the colorful history? Why is it that you two aren’t prom king and queen this year?”

Something in Billy’s tone instantly makes you second-guess your plans for Wednesday. His fading smirk tells you he’s noticed the flash of disdain on your face.

“What does it matter if you’re the one taking me on a date Wednesday?” you say, your voice edged with a warning. You’re feeling oddly protective over you and Harrington’s history, a past that’s none of Billy’s business.

Billy raises an eyebrow, caught off guard but intrigued. “Fair enough,” he replies, but the cocky glint in his eyes lingers, as if he’s still sizing up the situation.

Shortly after, you spot Steve storming out of the bathroom alone, Nancy nowhere in sight. His expression is tense as he heads straight for the drink station, a familiar frustration in his stride. You catch a glimpse of Jonathan making his way toward Nancy, so you turn to Billy with a polite excuse and make your way over to Steve.

“Hey, you don’t need to be drinking any more right now,” you say, noticing that Steve has downed two cups of punch in the short walk it took to reach him.

“I’ve got a pretty damn good reason to,” he mutters, his jaw tight as he opens a beer.

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but at least think about the fact that you still have to drive home,” you warn, trying to keep your tone light.

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “You can drive me.”

“I never volunteered for that,” you reply, crossing your arms.

For a moment, he looks at you, really looks at you, and you can tell he’s realizing that things are different. You’re not just there to pick up his pieces anymore. You have your own life to live tonight—a party to enjoy, and maybe even boys to dance with. The weight of another round of Steve-and-Nancy drama? That’s not something you’re willing to carry this time.

“You’re right,” Steve says, setting the beer down with a sigh. “I’ll just go sit out on the porch and sober up a bit. Then I’ll head out. And I wanna make sure Nancy gets home safe.”

You give his arm a quick squeeze, silently admiring that, even in the middle of an argument, he’s still looking out for her. That is… until his gaze drifts to the front door, where he sees Jonathan helping a barely-standing Nancy out to his car.

Crap.

“Go sit on the porch. I’ll be right there,” you say quickly, hinting you’ll handle it. You rush outside to catch up with Jonathan. “You know how this looks, right?”

Jonathan gives a solemn nod. “She asked me.”

Nancy lifts her head slightly, her words slurred and muddled. “I don’t want… Steve to take me home. Not Steve. I want to see Barb’s parents. Take me to Barb’s house.”

You pause, taken aback. “Barb’s parents? Why do you want to see Barb’s parents right now?”

Jonathan stiffens, worry flickering in his eyes. “Uh, I really think I should get her home now. Maybe check on Steve too.”

Without another word, they’re off, leaving you standing in the night with a sense of unease. You know Barbara Holland was Nancy’s best friend, missing since last year. But why would she bring that up now? And why with such urgency?

You find Steve out back, leaning against the porch railing, eyes glazed with frustration and a hint of sadness.

“Steve…why would Nancy want to see Barb’s parents tonight?”

He shakes his head slowly, the alcohol clearly loosening his grip on restraint. “God, I wish I could tell you everything right now. It would make things so much easier. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. But for the past year, I’ve been keeping so many secrets from you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. “What do you mean, Steve?”

He looks at you, eyes haunted, and whispers, “If I told you, you’d die.”

You laugh nervously, trying to shake the unease settling over you. “C’mon, it can’t be that serious.”

“There’s stuff going on around here that you have no clue about.” He reaches up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering a second longer than they should. Your heart skips, half hoping this is just the alcohol, half hoping it’s not. He always does this, walks that fine line.

His voice cracks slightly as he murmurs, “I just want to keep you safe.”

In that moment, you realize it’s not just words—it’s a plea, and you can feel the weight of something dark lurking just beyond his gaze, something he desperately wants to shield you from.

You give Steve a gentle pinch, trying to ground him. “I’m safe, Steve. I’m right here, see?”

But he only shakes his head, eyes dark with something close to dread. “Here is where it’s least safe. Those things… they’re out there.”

A chill runs down your spine. “What things, Steve?” You search his face, recognizing the unmistakable truth behind his words.

He just looks away, jaw clenched. Instinctively, your mind flashes back to last year, the disappearances of Will Byers and Barb. Then Nancy and Jonathan, vanishing for days without a word. Everyone assumed Jonathan had to hold things together while Joyce spiraled, refusing to believe her son was dead. There was even a funeral, and she still wouldn’t admit it. Then, against all logic, Will came back with no real explanation.

You remember Steve acting strangely after everything went down. He kept trying to make peace with Jonathan over the fight they got into outside the movie theater, but he dodged every question you asked about the night he went to Jonathan’s house, laughing nervously or changing the subject so fast it left you spinning. Then there was the night you found a bat in the trunk of his car—nails hammered into it like some kind of makeshift weapon. When you questioned him, he just shrugged it off, calling it a “guy thing,” and you let it go, though every instinct told you there was more to the story.

Whenever you pushed for answers, Steve would wave it off, teasing you about reading too many mysteries and spending too much time theorizing. But seeing the fear in his eyes now, the weight he’s carrying, it hits you like a punch: you were right to question everything. And he knows it, too.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You drive Steve’s car back to his house, figuring you’ll pick up your mom’s in the morning. One night won’t matter.

Helping him up to his room, you can’t shake the strange coincidences piling up around Hawkins.

“I missed this,” he mumbles, settling onto his bed.

“What?”

“You… in my room,” he says softly, grabbing your hand. “Stay tonight. Don’t leave.”

“You have a girlfriend, Steve. I don’t stay over when you have a girlfriend.”

He sighs, eyes full of something almost desperate. “What kind of girlfriend says she isn’t really in love with you?”

You freeze. “I’m sorry—what?”

“She said we’re just… acting like we’re in love,” he says, voice rough with frustration and something else.

You can see it—the hurt he’s tried to bury, the way he’s tried so hard to be enough for someone. To finally feel wanted.

His arms slip around your waist, his head resting against your stomach, and you feel his shoulders shake. Silent tears he doesn’t want you to see.

“Hey, hey… She was drunk, okay? Everyone says stupid things when they’re drunk. Talk to her tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“She meant it,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You gently push him back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow, Steve. Get some rest, and we’ll figure out the Nancy thing together.”

You hate to leave him like this, but you know it’s the right thing to do. So, once again, you walk away, leaving your best friend alone with his heartbreak and the last traces of alcohol on his breath. Another turn in the endless cycle that is your friendship—always there for him, even as it pulls you back into the same, unbroken loop.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, Billy and Steve square off on the basketball court, the air thick with tension. Billy’s been taunting him non-stop, poking at Steve’s so-called “King Steve” reputation like it’s a worn-out joke. But Steve keeps his cool, mostly.

Until Billy casually drops your name.

“So tell me, Harrington,” Billy sneers with a smirk, “what made you go for the Wheeler girl over Y/N?”

Steve feels the muscles in his jaw clench, but he doesn’t take the bait. He knows better than to react. But Billy’s not done. He moves closer, a low chuckle escaping as he continues, “I mean, the King and the Princess of Hawkins High—cute match and all. But damn, man, have you seen the hips on her? Perfect for holding onto. Word is you already took her for a test drive, too. So I gotta wonder… why didn’t you ever claim her? Or maybe you just weren’t man enough?”

Steve’s control snaps. He shoves Billy hard, fire in his eyes as he stands inches from him, fists clenched. “Say one more thing about her. I dare you.”

Billy laughs, clearly enjoying himself, but there’s an edge to Steve’s stance, a fierce protectiveness that makes even Billy pause. Steve glares, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N’s worth more than someone like you will ever know. So keep her name out of your mouth, or you’ll regret it.”

Right on cue, Nancy’s soft voice cuts through the tension. “Steve?” She stands just a few feet away, looking pale and uneasy, clearly having seen the entire thing unfold.

Billy smirks, throwing a last taunt over his shoulder. “Good luck, Harrington.” He saunters off, leaving Steve standing there, fists still clenched, his heart pounding.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

“Y/N!” your mom calls from downstairs. “Steve is here!”

Steve coming through the front door? That’s unusual—he’s always climbed the vines up to your window. You quickly spray a bit of perfume, fix your hair, then catch yourself in the mirror. Why are you even putting in effort for him?

When you come down, your mom throws you an excited smile, her back to Steve so he can’t see. She’s still holding onto that hope she’s had since first grade that you and Steve would end up together.

And then there he is, standing in the entryway with a bouquet of sunflowers—your favorite. Your heart stumbles as you take in every inch of him. For a brief second, you let yourself imagine you’re the only girl he brings flowers to. But realistically, he’s probably just coming from Nancy’s or on his way there next.

He hands you the flowers, his gaze lingering. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say, trying to steady your voice.

“Well, I should get going,” he says, and your heart sinks. That’s it?

“But, uh, make sure to open your window. There’s a nice breeze out tonight,” he adds with a wink. You bite back a smile, catching on.

You say your goodbyes and dash up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s questions as Steve leaves. You open your window, sitting on your bed, waiting for him like you have a hundred times before. Somehow, after all these years, the excitement still feels brand new.

“Miss me?” He slips through the window, quietly so your mom doesn’t hear, and makes himself at home. He turns on your record player, the soft hum of music filling the room, then joins you on the bed.

He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry for the position I put you in last night. It wasn’t fair, and you deserve better.”

You try to catch his gaze, but he’s clearly embarrassed. “That’s what best friends are for,” you say, hoping to ease his guilt.

You bite your tongue, unsure whether to bring up what he shared last night—but you’ve never hidden things from each other, and you don’t want to start now. “You told me about Nancy… how she said it felt like you were just acting in love.”

He sighs, defeated. “Yeah. I confronted her about it today. Asked if she could say she loved me, and she couldn’t.”

Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she’s just… having a moment. A lot’s happened this year.”

The silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unsaid words.

“I’m gonna bring her flowers after this. I don’t think it’ll change anything, but she deserves an apology for everything I put her through,” he finally says, breaking the quiet. You smile, resting your hand on his knee. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He looks down at your hand on his knee, his fingers hovering for a moment before he covers it with his own. His expression softens, a hint of something he quickly tries to hide, but you can see it—a sadness mixed with a reluctant acceptance, like he knows exactly what all of this means.

He lets out a quiet sigh, staring at your intertwined hands. There’s a heaviness in his eyes. Like even if things with Nancy are ending, there’s something between you and him that’s never quite let go.

His fingers tighten around yours, just for a second, before he releases your hand and gives you a small, bittersweet smile.

“You should go,” you whisper. You don’t want him to. But he needs to.

He reluctantly resigns himself.

“Can I come pick you up in an hour? Maybe we can go to the movies or something?”

You know you should say no, but you can’t. “If you and Nancy aren’t making out and making up within the next hour then yes, we can go to a movie.”

He stares at you, and you can’t quite read him. You avert your gaze.

“It’s so funny,” he speaks almost as if he can’t believe himself, “No matter what…or who…I always need you.”

And with that he’s out the window and on his way to try and win back another woman.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

#strange things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #slow burn #angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #Open Arms AU

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nikitaxlee · 7 months ago

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ᴊᴀᴋᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀɴɢsᴛ, sᴜɪᴄ!ᴅᴇ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ, ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴇs, ɢᴏʀᴇ.

𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘑𝘢𝘬𝘦. ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘

ᴍᴜsɪᴄ: ᴀ ʙᴏʏ ɪs ᴀ ɢᴜɴ*- ᴛʏʟᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ

ᴘᴜᴘᴘᴇᴛ - ᴛʏʟᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ

ᴛᴀɢs: @hwanchaesong here you are babes😊

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letter from reader

I didn't know why I so badly wanted him to go away that first time he talked to me. Maybe it was the way he always looked at me like one looks at a meal. Knowing he'll enjoy it in the moment but in the end he'll need a new meal preferably different than the one he had the night before, whatever the reason was, I was right to have wanted him gone. A small roadblock in my life. The night I caught him was the night I died. The day that car was speeding faster and faster until it hit that tree, figuratively and literally. That was the best way to describe me and Jakes relationship. Exhilerating in the moment but doomed from the start. A fucking trainwreck. Maybe that was why I loved him. Still do love him. God did I love every intoxicating moment of bittersweet hapiness. A paradox isn't it? A girl who loved and a boy who didn't. Perfect fucking match.

Jake, my love, why didn't you love me? I gave you everything and more. I wanted the kind of love you have for soccer, for layla, and you're stupid fucking PC that you would fucking waste time on. You know what they all had in common? You all loved them unconditionally. I. Gave. You. Everything. And as you read this I am giving you my life. Because, Jake, love, this is the last thing I do to prove I love you, to prove I can't live without you. God, even if you never loved me. As long as you were there... Please, my love, come visit me when I'm gone, at least once. I want you to love me when I'm gone, but I don't think that will happen. So this is where I say goodbye Jake, my pretty boy. Give Layla extra kisses for me. I love you.

---

1:02 A.M

When Jake made his way to the kitchen, unfamiliar body still tangled in his sheets, he didn't feel anything but numb. The look in your eyes as you opened the door to see him 8 inches deep in someone that wasn't you. In the moment it gave him this sick satisfaction of seeing you hurt. But he couldn't help but wonder if he had perhaps taken this game he played a little to far. Although the two of you weren't necessarily dating, you had a somewhat exclusive relationship. And he loved seeing the tears well in your eyes as he hurt you intentionally just to see run back to him. This wasn't the first time he had called you over here when he had a girl over. he loved seeing you break little by little. In his own sick world, he thought it would cause you to stay by his side.

The floorboards creaked as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen to grab some food. He would have to kick the girl out of his bed before you came back in about an hour he guessed. The second he stepped into the kitchen a feeling of dread rushed over him. He didn't notice anything amiss in the kitchen. Except the envelop sitting on the counter with the lighter he gave you for your birthday. The one thing you had from him. You had never reacted this way, usually you would just send him a text letting him know when you'd be back and to text you when he was done. As he pocketed the lighter and opened the letter he noticed the rushed handwriting right away, with bits scribbled out. He started reading and with each word his heart dropped. Each sentence was a stab in the heart. When he moved onto the next paragraph he started connecting the dots on what you were about to do. He didn't even finish the second paragraph before he was in his car.

1:10 A.M

"Fuck, Fuck, FUCK." He screamed. This could not be happening to him. Contrary to popluar belief, he really did love you, he just had a fucked up way of showing it. His tears streamed down his face as he sped to your house. "Y/N I swear to god, please, please, hold on for me baby, I'm so fucking sorry." he was going at least 15 over the limit right now. He entered the bridge before getting on the highway, and that was when he noticed the crowd of first responders on the highway. He was no longer crying just pure terror overcame him as he recognized the car lodged in the tree. The entire 3 lanes were blocked off but he still pulled up to the site. "Baby, baby, no no no NO" He quickly hopped out his car as his phone blew up with texts from the members;

Jay: JAKE, TELL ME THAT ISN'T Y/N'S CAR ON THE NEWS RN

Jungwon: oh god

Ni-Ki: call us now

10 new messages

12:25 A.M

Y/N: Hey Jake, js letting you know I'm going to be running a bit late, I'm picking up some food on the way over, wanna watch a movie? :)

12:36

Y/N: Omw, i picked up sushi!

Y/N: Is the key in the usual spot?

He felt like throwing up as his vision cleared and saw you laying there on the concrete paramedics rushing around you as others are currently performing CPR on you. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to run for you, just slowly shuffling towards the scene. He felt like he had just died and started seeing it all in 3rd person, him slowly walking towards you, the paramedics. Then he was running, almost reaching you but not before the police pulled him back.

"HEY THIS IS A SCE-" "THAT'S MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!" He said as he dropped to his knees and cried.

The policeman just held him back as he thrashed and watched as the paramedics put the white sheet over you and spoke.

"Time of death 1:46, died due to imapct to the head flying through the windshield, suspected suicide due to last text messages to family."

'No, no, she can't be-" he sputtered and hyperventilated.

"Ch-check again" he said to no one in particular.

The letter you left crushed in his hand.

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A/N: Moral of the story don't take your roomates cinnabon or it's on sight. One ❤️= One Cinnabon for me🥹₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘

#enha #enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen scenarios #jungwon #jaeyun #jay enhypen #heeseung #sunghoon #engene #jake angst

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saintmurd0ck · 1 year ago

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lakeside dreamin'

masterlist

pairing: jedi general anakin skywalker x f!reader

summary: anakin reminisces about your lives together while he's away fighting in the clone wars

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of canon events in TCW, canon typical mentions of warfare, some smut/spice, mentions of sex, minors DNI 18+ only

a/n: to the one anon who requested this maybe a year ago? i saw clone wars anakin and it was over for my brain 🫠 anyway love you guys and leave a comment or reblog if you liked this! 🥺

song pairing: love on the brain (rihanna)

The war was taking its toll.

Day after day, planet after planet, all Anakin knew now was his place on the battlefield. And his role in leading the victory for the Jedi and the Republic, even though their dogma preached peace, not violence. Every skirmish brought a new kind of horror to his once uncomplicated life, whether it was watching Separatist droids and clone troopers alike, cut down as easily as marsh reeds, or the simple fact that his relationship with the Force was dwindling towards something impure. Something he couldn’t make sense of, and would surely raise more questions than answers if he were to confide in his Masters. It wasn’t that he contemplated reaching towards the Dark side, or thought of the kind of evil only the Sith could endure; it was more like an isolating numbness that spread from within, and before long, Anakin felt the cloud settle over his mind.

He was tired of seeing smoke — the kind that billowed in every direction, stinking of despair and lost hope on his front, despite the war turning to the Republic’s favour. It was the sound of unending blaster fire and the repetitive ignition of his lightsaber that haunted his nightmares, and with only the company of his clone legion, his Padawan Ahsoka and the occasional appearance from Obi-Wan, he felt himself starting to slip.

He was overwhelmed, and encumbered with burden.

Never before had he experienced such guilt, anger and suffering — towards his army, towards the civilians caught in the crossfire, and towards his relationship with you.

The secret life the two of you led, away from the Order, felt like something out of another galaxy, another lifetime. It was as if eons had passed since he’d last seen you, and yet the world was constantly evolving — not towards freedom, but into a more destructive version of its past. Even for a Jedi General (and, one could argue, because he was a Jedi General), Anakin had little comfort, and much less sway in which systems he visited and what he took part in. Seeing you was absolutely out of the question, but it wasn’t like he bothered to even ask, out of fear of inviting a lecture from Obi-Wan, or Maker-forbid, an audience with Master Yoda.

At least things like facilitating training for the Onderon rebels allowed him to feel more of himself, and to an extent, a sort of unity with the Council, but all of that was quickly replaced by the more sinister side of the Separatist Alliance, such as the trainwreck on Zygerria. Liberation didn’t exist there. Not until Anakin showed up.

It was these events that really compelled him to look inwards, to not just seek the Force’s guidance, but to use it in tandem with a coping mechanism that would get him through the war.

And so the vignettes began. Slowly, at first.

It started off as little glimpses of your life together, slices of euphoric nostalgia that weaved their way into Anakin’s being. He didn’t realise just how much he yearned for you; not simply the way your skin felt on his, but the pureness of your energy, the reminder that good truly did exist in this world. As much as these images were a solace to his sanity, they brought about a sense of malaise. Contrition, actually, if he sought the Force for the purpose of clarity. Even though it all existed in his head, allowing himself these indulgences felt like once again, he was breaking Code.

But could it really have been that bad, if it honed his focus? If it drew him back to the bigger picture, of the why? Reminding himself of who it was he fought for didn’t erase the atrocities, but it gave him that flicker of hope, knowing that the sum of his actions equalled a better world for you.

And some selfish, miniscule part of him figured that if he could lead the victory, he’d be pardoned when the Order inevitably found out about the life the two of you shared. It isn’t as if no-one already knew. He was sure Ahsoka was aware. Rex, too. He doubted when it came to Obi-Wan, but then again very little got past his Master.

While the memories of you lay fresh before his eyes, they seemed to sharpen at specific points throughout the day; often in the thick of battle, or when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, nothing but thin shafts of moonlight illuminating his body. It’s like they were stitched perfectly amongst the real action, scattered at perfect intervals that jerked his body into manoeuvre.

The sweetest images had always featured the lake.

Armed with nothing more but his wits, his back pressed against the cold, wet stone in a cave on Vanqor, he reminisced about that first night with you by the lakeside. The sweet smell of wildflowers carried in the breeze, heightened by his affinity for the Force. He recalled the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore, and how the two moons cast their milky glow upon the shimmering surface of the water. And you — radiant, almost ethereal in the soft light, and the way your lips brushed against his neck, filling him with the kind of heat that flooded all at once. Not even the screech of the pursuing gundark could have interrupted this moment in time. He felt his breathing go ragged, because he remembered what happened next. He gritted his teeth, thinking about the way he moved inside you, and how you tangled your fingers in his hair, pressing chaste kisses to his mouth, his chest, whispering his name in sinful bliss. The gundark didn’t stand a chance. Not when Anakin’s motivation for getting out alive laid in sweet promise, embedded in these visions.

His name felt the most natural rolling off your tongue, nevermind that that was truly the last real thing he possessed, unmarred by time and the influence of the Jedi. In that moment, when you’d taken him over the edge with you, crying his name so loud he swore someone had heard, he knew he’d give it over to you if you’d asked.

He thought of the lake again when he was in Felucia, crouched low amongst the sillum. His lightsaber grew heavy in his hand, the ridges suddenly awkward in his palm, but the grip he’d started to lose on his lifeline gave rise to something he couldn’t ignore.

It was another temperate day and the sun had created the most brilliant reflections on the surface of the lake. With the grasses and trees swaying in the wind, Anakin closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. He didn’t prod or poke, but rather he cast a wide net, a delicate caress, to connect with the life that teemed. It sang to him in a multi-layered harmony, acting as a prominent reminder that the Force flowed in all living things. And when his eyes fluttered open, he watched you carefully as you walked towards the water, your feet crunching on the smooth pebbles that made up the beach. You turned around to give him a dazzling smile, moving with deliberation to slip off your clothes. Your laughter echoed in the crisp air as you dived into the lake, disappearing under a swathe of emerald green, only to resurface in the middle with a large grin plastered to your face. He didn’t hesitate to jump in, to shed his clothing on the spot. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of what happened shortly after.

Sometimes it was hard to return to the present, to remember that he’d sleep alone that night while you were only just waking up, systems away, most likely after another fitful slumber. There were times where he thought these visions would serve no other purpose than to derail him, when the temptation of your touch shadowed his desire for victory. These moments guided him to channel the Force within, so as to remind himself of why he was doing this in the first place. Because it was more than just a coping mechanism. It was an anchor. A thrumming pulse point. A gentle acknowledgement of the life he wanted to come back to.

It’s then that he wondered when enough would be enough, when the war would come to a stalemate, as it so often did in their history. The tide was turning, and he knew it.

And there it was again, that kernel of hope, that ember of light that shone in the depths of his soul. Even reduced to a ghost in his memory, you were tangible, so tangible now. He wouldn’t let the Separatists win. He couldn’t, because there was too much at stake. And so if thinking of you, in these ways, helped him remember that, he wasn’t going to stop.

Not for anyone.

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fic #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin fanfiction #x reader #rhi writes 💻

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mxnhoo · 6 months ago

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surprises! (k. sn)

synopsis : sunoo was ghosting you the entire day, and you wanted to have a day out with your mom to take your mind off of it, and suddenly there was.. a surprise?! pairing : kim sunoo x reader genre : romance, fluff, sunoo is mad mad mad sweet it makes me want to cry, not proofread w/c : 2.6k a/n : hey guys, just had a quick idea and had to do something about it. idea is from @/hatsunenica on tiktok. worst part is, it's currently 1am and i need to wake up at 7am tomorrow LOL ignore the mistakes, hope yall enjoy. KINDA HATE IT THO COS IT'S KINDA CLICHE

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You rested on your bed, feeling exhausted after crying non-stop for hours. You were just laying down lifelessly, your phone beside your head. The room was dim, the only light source being the lamp that was resting on your nightstand. Your pillow and sheets were stained with your tears and snot, leaving an obvious outline and you stared blankly, resting on your side. You received a notification, making your phone screen turn on, and you instantly sat up to see the notification, but was quickly met with disappointment when you realised it wasn't from the person you anticipated it to be. Quickly looking at the time before your phone automatically turned off, you realised how early in the day it was for you to be crying like this. Heck, it was only 6am in the morning, the sun has barely rised and you're already feeling a trainwreck of emotions, it's insane. Disappointment and hurt only filled you as you think back on the reason why you were crying in the first place.

Sunoo was not responding to any of your texts or calls, and it was making you feel worried, scared, fearful, to the extent you were crying this badly. He stopped responding to you from 3pm from the day before, and it made your overthinking worse.

Was he tired of you? Was he ghosting you? Did he not love you?

But to make it worse, you two weren't even in a relationship, so you felt like you didn't have the need to get upset over this. Your eyes slowly closed and you drifted off to sleep, feeling completely exhausted after being up for majority of the night, trying to contact Sunoo.

The sunlight made it's way to your room, and upon the brightness increasing, you started to gain consciousness. Opening your eyelids, you are met with the ceiling, and you had to take a few seconds to just stare and recall what happened. You heaved out a big sigh and shook your head, trying to shake the thoughts away. You sat up on your bed and quickly check your phone one last time, and once again, no notifications. You wanted to cry again, but there were no more tears. You put your phone on silent and Do Not Disturb, not wanting to come into contact with it for a while.

You throw your feet over the edge and realise how your journal and pen was resting on the floor. You probably accidentally kicked it down during your sleep after you journalled how you felt, writing down all the things you felt down to release your pent up emotions. You pick the journal up, reading a few lines from the entry you made yesterday.

"i miss your touch, i miss the way you call my name" "i wish you would just say something" "i love you sunoo."

And upon reading the last line, you slammed your book closed, immediately putting it on your nightstand. You shook your head once more, letting out a long sigh. Suddenly, your bedroom door opened, and you turn your head towards the door. It revealed your mom who was looking elated, and she spoke out, "Darling, let's go out today! Dress up nice, okay?"

You wanted to refuse, you wanted to say no so you could just rot at home in your self-pity, but before you could respond, your mom had already closed the door on you, leaving you no choice. Maybe a day without your phone will do it. Maybe you'll feel better.

You softly screamed and set your foot on the floor, standing up and stretching, ready to carry out operation "Day Without Phone Or Texting Sunoo". You knew your mother would take you out to breakfast, so you made your way to the bathroom to start preparing to shower.

Dress up nice? You definitely did. You were shutting your eyelids close as you spray the setting spray on your face after having put on a full make-up look. You slowly put down the spray and opened your eyes, looking at the table mirror in front of you. You grinned as you realised how prettier you have gotten, feeling more confident in your own skin. Today, you wanted to just forget about all of your problems, and you were definitely going to do it in the prettiest way. You stood up from the chair to take into view of how you completeluy looked. The sundress you were perfectly complemented your body well, showing off your good shape and your make-up that was just finished off making you look like a princess. Goddess, even. Feeling happy at your look, you opened the door to see your mom who was already dressed up, sitting on the couch and waiting for you.

"Ready to go? Let's dine at your favourite!" she exclaimed. You nodded, already feeling detached from your problems, and you quickly snatch your bag that was hanging near you as you folloewd her. Your phone was still nicely resting in your room, and you glanced towards your room one more time before closing the front door beside you.

Breakfast at your favourite cafe -- Dreamy Drips, which served the best pancakes, and afterwards your mom bought french toast too, which was nicely accompanied by an ice cream flavour of your choice, chocolate chip.

Afterwards, you and your mom walked around the street, admiring the view and just chatting. Occassionally, Sunoo appeared in your mind and it always made you want to break down, but you focused on the person who loves you with her whole heart -- your mother. You smiled at her, laughing at the jokes she made.

Shopping at your favourite bookstore was also one thing you two did, feeling like you were in paradise. You felt ecstatic at the sight of filled-up bookshelves, and it was almost as if all your problems were non-existent.

A cat-cafe was the next thing you and your mom went to. You absolutely loved cats, wanting to own one so bad but not having enough time to take care of it properly. You caressed the cat that was resting on your lap, and you smiled at your mom who was now taking a photo of you.

Lunch was the next thing. You two ate at a sushi restaurant, completeley devouring the food at sight. When you were completely filled up, you burped loudly and rubbed your stomach, your mom laughing at you.

This time, you and your mom ended up in the mall. You walked past stores, liking how they all have their own styles and different products. You occasionally entered stores to see the different things that they sold, copping a few items here and there.

After a long day, your mom announced that she wanted to go home. You agreed, feeling exhausted yet refreshed too, and she called a taxi. On the taxi ride home, you expected her to be chatty, recalling the simple moments you and her shared earlier in the day, except she was constantly on her phone and constantly typing.

"Who was she texting that she's typing like that?" you thought to yourself. You shrugged and looked out of the window, watching as the car you were in drive past the buildings. Your mom was probably texting your dad.

Upon reaching, you and your mom step foot outside the taxi, and you were about to walk up to her so you two could walk in the house together, but she quickly looked up at you.

"Darling, I have to deal with last-minute things, take the keys!" she exclaimed, smacking the keys to your palms before going to the opposite direction. You didn't even have the chance to say anything before her silhouette started to gradually become smaller, and not visible. You sighed, holding your bag and the plastic bags from the shops you shopped at today, walking up to the front door. Your rings clinked loudly and you unlocked the door, stepping foot inside.

Immediately, you noticed how the aroma of the whole environment was different. It smelled like.. vanilla? You tilt your head in confusion, raising an eyebrow and closing the door behind you. You turned on the light switch and instantly noticed something on the floor. Red.. petals? You observed as it trailed to your room, and you cautiously look around to see if anyone was there, but you were met with nothing. You attentively stepped to the front of your room, twisting the knob and opening the door.

There he was. Sitting on your bed, in a suit, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers - roses, and balloons that were sticked onto your wall that spelled out, "Will you be my girlfriend?".

You dropped the plastic bags you were holding and brought it up to your face. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened, processing the sight that was right in front of you. Sunoo was chuckling, as he nervously scratched his neck. He stood up from the bed, and started stepping towards you, until you called out, "Stop right there!".

Upon hearing your callout, he immediately halted to a stop, his eyebrows raising as he felt slightly puzzled. "I-I just.. need to process everything.." you added on, slowly bringing your hands down back to your sides.

He chuckled and responded, "You can take your time, I'll always be here, okay, Y/N?". Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks and ears. You finally processed the sight in front of you, and cleared your throat. "S-so.. what is this?".

He finally took the steps towards you, holding up the bouquet and smiling at you oh-so handsomely. He replied, "I wanna ask the prettiest girl out, and it so happens to be you".

You still couldn't believe your eyes, but you slowly took the bouquet into your hands and sniffed the aroma of the roses. They smelled so beautiful. Your eyes started welling up, and upon seeing your emotional state, Sunoo started to panick, "W-wait, why are you cryin-?"

Tears finally rolling down your cheeks and you cried out, "I thought you hated me! I thought you didn't like me anymore and I thought you found someone else! I couldn't stop crying earlier today because of my overthinking!".

Still panicking, Sunoo quickly brought you into an embrace, and patted your back. "Shh, I got you, Y/N."

You continued to cry, now your tears staining his suit, not being able to hold back your tears anymore. He continuously whispered sweet-nothings into your ears as he patted your back and caressed your hair.

"Was this why you were ignoring me?" you asked, voice cracking at the last few words. Oh man, Sunoo wanted to slap himself for breaking your heart and making you cry like this. He quickly leaned back and cupped your face, "Yes.. I wanted to surprise you and make you really happy, but I didn't expect you to be over me not responding. I'm sorry, okay, baby?". He pecked your forehead, and looked at you with such a reaussuring gaze.

You finally looked at him, eye-to-eye, and you noticed how handsome he looked today. The way his hair was nicely slicked back, eyes looking genuinely worried for you, and you melted into his gaze. With your free hand, you caressed his cheek and finally smiled.

"There's the smile I love so much." he grinned, a pink tint on his cheeks showing.

"I got you a gift, mind if I show you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, signalling if it was okay for him to pull away, and you nodded "Not at all, what is it?".

He grinned and stood back from you, walking towards the other side of your bed and picking up a box that was blocked in your view. As you watched him, you look at the bouquet of roses he gave you and smiled, placing it down on the table near you afterwards. He walked back to you, holding the box with both hands, and he handed it to you.

"What's inside, hmm? I wonder what it could be!" you said, your heart currently feeling so ecstatic at the moment. You opened the box and is met with a variety of things.

The first thing you pulled out was a digital camera that looked brand new, and you looked at Sunoo with shock.

"Is this the digital camera I wanted?!" you asked, feeling completely excited. He nodded and you continue, "But isn't it $300?!". Your eyebrows furrowed, worried about the cost.

He shook his head, "Nothing is too expensive when it comes to you."

You pouted your lips, melting at his words as you place the digital camera box inside the box and took out the next thing.

A stack of polaroids that were joined compiled together by a rubber band. You placed the box on the table that also had the bouquet and removed the rubber band, seeing all the polaroids.

The first polaroid was of you when you and him had gone out to study with a group of friends. You didn't even know he took a photo of you.

Second polaroid was of you studying when you went to the library to study with him and a few others

Third.. fourth.. fifth.. and it went up to a 10th.

The 10th one was a polaroid of you at the cafe, when you and him had agreed to hang out alone. You remembered it clearly, he asked to take a photo of you on his polaroid camera, and you shyly smiled at the memory. The 10th one had permenant marker writing at the bottom, and it wrote "The moment I knew I was in love with you."

You gasp and you looked at him. When you and him had went out that day, it was 2 years ago. He had been in love with you for so long?

You tied a rubber band around the stack of polaroids and placed it back into the box, and now the last thing was.. mail. A lot of it. You questioned Sunoo, "What's all of this?".

He shyly smiled, scratching his neck, "I wrote a love letter for you every single time I couldn't stop thinking about you." Your jaw dropped again, and you looked inside, realising the insane amount of letters inside. You could easily say there was 10, no, 25, maybe even 50. That is insane.

"I hand-made all those flowers in the bouquet, y'know?" he smiled, fidgeting with his hands, feeling worried you wouldn't like it. You whined out, your heart melting at him and feeling so happy

"I love it, Sun, I love all of it." you cried out, feeling emotional. Upon hearing your words, his face lit up, and he immediately brought you into an embrace.

Sunoo cleared his throat, before asking the big question, "Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?".

You smiled at him, feeling so emotional that the boy your heart has been yearning for was finally asking you out, and even reciprocaiting your feelings.

"Yes, Sun, of course!" you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him for a kiss.

You were kissing him for the first time, and his lips felt so soft, so gentle. He held your head oh-so gently, and he was tilting his head to be able to gain more access. The way you two were moving in such a rhythmatically way showed the chemistry between you two, and you wanted time to just stop right here. Your heart was rapidly beating, and you felt like it could explode any moment. You felt so joyful, cheerful, delighted, elated, jubilant, ecstatic, all the snynonyms for happy. There were no words spoken, but it was so clear how much the two of you yearned for each other. The warmth you felt was like no other.

After a long minute, you slowly pulled back. Resting your forehead on his and looking right into his eyes, you smiled, "Sun, I love you so much."

He chuckled and replied, "I love you too."

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pinkandpurple360 · 26 days ago

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"constant condescension, demands of service, and emotional abuse."

"constant condescension": do you mean the nicknames Stolas gave to Blitz where it shows the clash of POVs from both sides (Stolas POV he's just being tender and loving, but of course his oblivious ass raised in a classist family won't realize that, meanwhile from Blitz POV, where class weights way more on him, assumes he's being condescending, despite not being his intention and not being a reality either). But psh, screw that right? It's way better to oversimplify and say Stolas does it on purpose and is a big monster, surely that's the most intelligent way to go!

"demands of service": alright, it's another part of POV clash, because the so-called 'demands' are something that Blitz perhaps understands what his affair with Stolas is like, for obvious reason, he's a goetia, he's an imp, yada yada, power imbalance, logical reasons that explains why the foundation of Stolitz in the first place is messy and shouldn't ever be the base of an relationship and the reason ppl root for it is for them to get out of this but no you all just assume everyone wants them to create this narrative that 'Stolas is in the right Blitz in the wrong' when the NOT FUCKING STUPID people don't pick sides and conclude this was a trainwreck bound to happen, fans are just waiting for the resolution (which hasn't come yet)

Anyways back to my point about the so-called demands, as I explained why it's understandable Blitz views this way, this is also not an reality. Paying attention to Stolas language in Murder Family, fucked up context aside, he don't bring up consequences if Blitz didn't accept the trade neither mentioned his power to threat him to accept it either, he offered and even asked if it's fair, someone as powerful as Stolas could control Blitz easily, yet he doesn't and it shows a lot about his character, but of fucking course you all don't care about that, Stolas is a big meanie.

and lastly: emotional abuse.

What. Just what. Everything that's going on with Blitz right now is not Stolas fault, this overwhelming 'torture' for Blitz as shown in these episodes are because of the obvious fact of the MASSIVE self hatred Blitz holds against himself, which, guess what, was actually SOLVED in this episode with Millie's help. This was not a damage by Stolas, sure, it's the most recent wound and Blitz feels guilty not for falling up for him, despite him desiring that, but he just straight up refused consciously to sit and talk with Stolas seriously because he WANTED that pompous rich asshole projection he had of Stolas (that is shown on his Truth Seekers hallucination), and talking about that, YES, EVERYONE KNOWS THE STOLAS PERCEPTION OF BLITZ SHOWN IN THAT EPISODE IS FUCKED UP, is not by any means healthy and is just self degrading, Stolas social class by itself already does that but his words towards him he >unconsciously< fed this preconception;

I could discuss Stolitz for a while and explain the appeal to Stolitz is not their previous dynamic, as fun as it was to watch sometimes, most know those conditions are not the healthy base of an relationship, and no, Stolas arc is by any means resolved, him taking the action to end the transactional deal with Blitz is just an start, the episodes are setting up so much stuff about Stolas realizing more stuff and ACTUALLY CHANGE FR.

What do you think the Striker line towards him about how the royals take everything from 'us', Blitz ranting (which is not a calling Stolas out, it's a rant of feeling unfairly dismissed and how he's having his feelings being played), but regardless, mentioning his attitude towards other imps and Apology Tour description literally calling Stolas not being self aware enough, and it's the episodes where petty Stolas keep talking bs at the start (with an Blitz that refuses to talk seriously fr)

This misconception you all have that Stolitz fans think all this needs to happen is Blitz to confess, and that Stolas has nothing more to improve is just wrong. Just plain wrong. I love both of these characters and I hate seeing an enormous mischaracterization of both.

Let's see if you won't oversimplify all I just said

Not oversimplify, but to summarise how stolas fans excuse him:

(1) Not the nickname. The fact he is asked not to say it, but does anyway. Because it makes him feel good. That is condescending. He is screamed in his face how people feel, and he ignores them not because he is “oblivious” or “tender and loving” but because he wants them to feel something else. This is wilful ignorance.

His response to his abusive marriage and family he has no control over, is to control those he knows cannot say no to him, to make himself feel better. The same way he abuses drugs and absinthe. He does it to his own staff, his daughter in the LooLoo land episode causing her breakdown, which he later regretted. In general to all imp kind, hellhounds also. This is the toxic mindset of someone with pain, who has let his victim mentality go too far. He is exploiting his privilege, which he is perfectly aware that he has. “Being part of the Goetia family is rather valuable you know”

Oddly enough, despite his “oblivious” self….he knows not to act this way towards Paimon, Asmodeus, and Andrealphus. He uses respect for all three. Ever wonder why? Him and Stella are in a clear power struggle. How they use power is unstable. An explanation, not excuse, for how he acts. This isn’t a prince problem. This is a stolas problem. His trauma isn’t blitzos fault, but Blitzs trauma is caused by how stolas has behaved to him.

“His oblivious ass and being raised in a classist family won’t realise that” hm. Wont realise….what? But you say everything is all in blitzs head and not the reality at all? So what isn’t stolas realising???

…..Oh and these…which are not even all of them.

(2) Now hang on, you can’t just “yada yada” away a power dynamic that you recognise is the problem. Stolas can control blitz. You do not understand what the sexual abuse is here. You think the fact he could rape him even more, but doesn’t, is worthy of praise. I think what he’s already done to abuse his power, is worthy of disdain. You’re pretending this was consensual, but despite how pro stolas the narrative is, even they have to admit it was not. Stolas said it wasnt right for a reason. And you seem to take his reality and his truth as the only reality, so why make this exception. When someone says they were sexually abused, you don’t get to say “Well you’re wrong. That’s not the reality. Because he loves you, and he didn’t mean it. He’s doesn’t see it this way, he’s one of the good ones.”

That first sentence is a mess. They’re demands because “no” isn’t reasonably on the table. He had to beg him not to take his business away, he said he could fulfill the bargain. You and stolas are squeamishly in denial about it. It’s not that blitz doesn’t feel this way, and that it isn’t what happened, it’s that you wish he didn’t and you wish that it didn’t, you want to pretend it is “society” or blitzs mental illnesses or Blitzs dad. But never stolas and what he did.

Er….you are taking a side. You said everything blitz feels is not reality. The source being, his trauma, and because stolas doesn’t see it that way. This feels like accusing an abuser person of “hysteria”

The emotional abuse part was explained very clearly, stolas does all of these; shifts blame, denial, shames him for his past relationships, switches victim and offender, rewrites past events, dodges questions, uses hefty amounts of guilt tripping, projection, deflection, silent treatment, taunting, and torment. By comparison, Blitz yells at him not to dismiss him, says he behaves in a classist way, makes sex jokes, and says “fuck you” these are all reactions. Something called reactive abuse which is what victims do in frustration and lack of control. Like stolas screaming back at Stella. She almost always starts it. (Not counting one scene where the start of the fight is offscreen so I don’t know who did)

“This was not caused by stolas. Sure it was the most recent wound” bit of a self contradiction. The way stolas behaved was disgusting, and abusive, his combination of control and guilt tripping, caused a massive decline in blitzs confidence triggering a mental break. As stolas’ behaviour has done to him several times.

Did Blitz “not want to talk?” Or did stolas order him to leave three times, and kick him out by force the second time? And turn his back on him every single instance. Causing the angry “im not being listened to” response stolas always causes in people. No. It’s stolas who refuses to. And as you and I both know, he has all of the power.

Third last paragraph, Viv cannot allow blitz to be right about stolas, so she compares him to a more convenient “bad” example, Striker. Ppl want to pretend the problem is “society” and painting royals with the same brush like a meanie head, and pretend it’s not stolas’ fault cause he’s just “loving and tender and oblivious and silly” This is a massive case of denial and creators pet behaviour, that is even irritating the spindlehorse animators and non-Viv writers.

Second last paragraph, don’t tell me what I think lol?. Many of the fans say they actually do feel that way, it’s no misconception. In this message you are dodging stolas having any moments of malice at all, by using “trauma” and “blitz just sees it that way” as reasonings.

#helluva boss critical #stolitz critical

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zluty-spendlik · 4 months ago

Text

WAKFU REDESIGN AND REWRITE SERIES – PART 1

Evangelyne

Evangelyne used to be my favorite character growing up, which kind of sucks since she’s one of the flattest characters considering how much screentime she has.

Even when I was a little kid and watched this show I found it annoying how she was constantly drooled over by the guys and these days its pretty obvious she’s a very stereotypical not-like-the-other-girls girl, created solely to be Percedal’s (the literal incarnation of the expected target audience) love interest.

SHE EVEN HAS THE WHOLE „I let my hair down and now am so much prettier“ ARC HAPPEN FRICKING TWICE IN THE SPAN OF. WHAT- 5 EPISODES???

Evangelyne is a misogynistic character on so many levels, the only Eva-centric episodes we get are either ones she needs saving in (like Vampyro or the pirate one), or when she has a love arc with Percedal (the whole Rubilaxia shtick, or the tree of Life episode).

Honestly the only bearable scenes where she shows up are those where she interacts with Amalia and even those get twisted into weird sexist tropes: Evangelyne critisizing Amalia for buying too much clothes, or overall cringing at Amalia’s „too girly“ behaviour.

Even when they have a touching conversation after freeing Amalia’s father from the Tree of Life, Amalia immediatelly brings up Percedal and fails the Bechdel test.

I won’t even touch the Cleophée (or Cleome in english) trainwreck the writers pulled in season 2 or the whole pregnant-damsel-in-distress thing she had going on in season 3- I didn’t watch season 3 and 4 mostly because I got so mad after the misogyny happening in the first episode and I didnt want to ruin my already fragile excitement over the series.

But don’t get me wrong – Even tho Wakfu has a lot of potential for growth, I still love the series dearly, and would love to give the characters justice. It is important to note that I am not a professional writer and Im mostly doing this for my own indulgence, so please feel free to throw constructive critisism towards me.

Character rewrite

We don’t know much about Evangelyne’s backstory, or rather her story before she meets Amalia – And in my head as a kid, I always assumed she was an orphaned kid basically living on the street with Cleophée, until someone (presumably Armand, since he has a long-term crush on her and Amalia hated her at first) took pity on her and took her to the palace (once I figure out Cleophées design Ill explain what happens with her).

Fast forward a couple years, Eva is officially Amalia’s bodyguard, yadayadayada.

Important thing is, that this shapes Evangelyne’s personality and self-perception –

I have divided my potential Eva Arc into 3.5 Categories:

Self-protection and perservation

Eva knows how dangerous the world can be (streets) and how serious her job is, but she’s only seventeen. She takes her job way too seriously, in the sense that she doesnt trust anybody they meet (which is especially shown when they meet the Tofu gang). She doesn’t want anyone but Amalia close and deep down, she’s scared of other people.

She is horrible at teamwork, which only frustrates her and everyone around her. She fails to see the affection Amalia has for her, because her entire self is just a bodyguard.

She doesn’t know who she is without that.

Depression

Dally’s sacrifce absolutely traumatizes Eva, both in the canon and my version. It doesnt need to be seen as romantic tho (we’ll get to that). On top of that AMALIA BRIEFLY DIES AND COMES BACK. Can you HEAR Evangelyne’s entire purpose crumbling down?

In her head, two people just died because of her.

Besides, Percedal sacrifices himself because he cares for her. Not as a „coworker“ or a teammate, but as a friend and Evangelyne cannot fathom that sort of service and relationship.

And even though she failed, her friends are there to support her. Eva learns compassion.

Self-destruction

However, she now feels she has to „make up“ for her lack of compassion and her failings as a bodyguard. Long story short, she completely flips to the other extreme, basically throwing herself in any sort of danger to protect her friends (hence when she hears Dally, she immediatelly goes to Rubilaxia). In the show this is less extreme but portrayed as her real and true personality: more reckless and adventureous – but i think the writers just wanted Eva to finally have something in common with Dally (which, btw, uncool), but I’d like this to be portrayed as a bad thing.

Eva fails to see that she’s hurting herself and fails to recognize herself as a person rather than basically a human shield. This arc climaxes in the Cleophée episode and Eva learns that compassion is not transactional, or something to be earned.

Her true self

Evangelyne's final form! We dont know much about Eva's hobbies other than her job and fighting skills, HOWEVER Dally mentions Eva taught him tracking at one point and tbh Evangelyne being a ranger or just studying nature fits her pretty well imo! She is also canonically artistic (as confirmed by the journal she keeps).

I take issue with Evangelyne always being seen as the “mom of the group”. Yes, she's smart and responsible and caring, but that's her job, she's an older sister, less of a mother figure and more of an equal to the others in the gang.

Design

In s1, Id like her to wear a lot of armour with chainmail directly on her skin (haha get it because trust issues), and with a mostly green colour palette, cause, Sadida kingdom yk.

In her s2 look, she throws away most of her armour and self perservation instincts and since her personality completely flips, so does her colour palette - red! The first aid kit is gone and she wears an ascot now (a torn bit from Dally's cape lol).

And finally, i made her a furry I gave her some gadget shoes from Cleophée, helping her move faster, I put some of the armour back and made her hair longer. Her colour palette now consists not only green, but also the "Yugo blue", which i plan on incorporating in everyone's final design :D

AND FINALLY, AN ART DUMP

#wakfu #wakfu rewrite #wakfu redesign #wakfu fanart #wakfu evangelyne #pinpainting #long post #we do not support misogyny in this house #ive never met someone from the wakfu fandom irl why am i even bothering with a rewrite lol #im kinda sad i didnt watch the later seasons cause all the fanarts are from that part of the series #but also i took real physical damage watching s3 #anyway #whadaya guys thinn #im making it worse arent i #yap pin

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midnight-bay-if · 5 months ago

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How would the RO's go about dealing with a MC is who is incredibly, painfully, oblivious when being flirted with? XD

(Honestly, relateable lol.)

S: They are a little bit gutted, haha. It's the first time in a long time they've put themselves out there, only for their lines to fall flat. S has always had a certain level of confidence, which has made them appealing to many admirers in the past. They are beginning to think they may have lost that spark.

In the end, they will resort to the most cliche, overtly romantic gestures they can think of. Expect the largest red rose bouquet you have ever seen, paired with a personalised sonnet of proclaimed affection, and dinner by candlight with classical music playing softly in the background.

Rain: Rain finds it adorable, but also confusing. Sometimes they can't tell whether you are trying to let them down gently, or if you are really not understanding their interest. So, they begin to test the waters.

"So, MC," they begin, throwing an arm over your shoulder. "Fancy spending some time together? You know, one on one?" or "This is cozy, isn't it? Just us two."

If you still don't seem to be biting, they will resort to diving straight in. "MC, I find you really attractive, and I really like you. I don't have any expectations, but I think you think I'm cute, too? Wanna grab a drink or something?"

Taj: Taj will rarely make the first move. When they do try, their flirting game is pretty abhorrent, so it wouldn't be a surprise if you didn't understand what was happening. Taj is definitely the kind of flirt to tug on your pigtails and call you mean names as a way of getting your attention, lol.

If the relationship with Taj is to go anywhere, it would be wise to get better at reading people's intentions rather than their words. Taj is much better at demonstrating their interest with sweet little actions, which they will only do for you.

N: This will be a battle N enjoys. Honestly, it would be a miracle if you didn't recognise N was flirting because of how blatant they are. Every vowel drips with sensuality. However, if you truly still didn't get it or didn't believe it to be a genuine display of interest, they would have fun with it.

"Oh, you are looking so tired, my dear," they whisper close to your ear, curling their hands across your shoulders as they knead the flesh there. "Is there anything I could possibly do to help you relax?"

The more it goes over your head, the harder they push... because it's an absolute joy of theirs to feel the quickening of your pulse and the panic in your voice when they get close.

Umbra: This would be an absolute trainwreck, lol. Most of the time, Umbra doesn't even realise they are flirting, nor that flirting was their intention. All they know is when they are near you, they feel alive.

It's a feeling they want to chase. It doesn't matter if you don't recognise their desires; just let them stay close.

#ask answer #taj #nazu raumon #simon selby #umbra knight #naera raumon #rain #simone selby #interactive fiction

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joydoesathing · 6 months ago

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hallooo💗💗💗do u have any nacho headcannons,like his family,his relationship with his ex,with anatolli etc ?only if u want ofc💓💓,also the last art of him it's extremely beautiful,all my german friends agree 💕💕💕💕( srry for bad english i don't think google translate translates so good)

have a good day/night💓💓🙏,at us in germany now it's 8:45 PM in Berlin kissesss🎀

thank you and i hope you have a great day/evening too

so here's a short list of some of my hc for the mikaelys boys (i'll just throw in my headcanons for anatolii while i'm at it)

Nacho

A friendly and mild-mannered man that gets along with people but is sometimes known to be a bit of a nervous wreck at times.

He dotes quite a lot on Anatolii (when he first started of as a single father, he didn't really have the time to bond with Anatolii because he had to work a lot more now that he had a son to care for and he didn't really know how to balance his time for work and for Anatolii. When he's gotten the hang of managing his time a year or two later, he wasted no time to start providing Anatolii with all the affection and love he needed)

When he was younger, he was quite a troublemaker and had bad company for "friends". But ever since he stepped up as a dad, he has long since cut them off and manned up.

He isn't really up for dating or getting into a relationship with people; not ever since the trainwreck of a relationship he had with Frances. He does feel really guilty about the whole thing, so he decided to dedicate himself to put Anatolii's wants and needs before his as a form of atonement.

When he and Frances were dating when they were younger, he didn't really take their relationship seriously. Now that he looks back, he probably thinks it's just his imagination, but, could he possibly now still have lingering feelings for her..?

He has a large scar on his lower back from the "incident" with Frances.

Currently, Frances and him are on neutral terms. He gets super nervous and awkward when he sees her but when Anatolii does interact with Frances, he can't help but ask his son what was Frances like or how's she doing etc.

Anatolii

He may act and look quite cold, uncaring and unfriendly, but he's really a sweet boy (he doesn't smile a lot but he's good-natured)

Performs really well at school so he's quite smart

He plays football and collects matchbox cars as a hobby.

Also really likes model trains.

Though he may not look like it, he really looks up to his dad more than anyone. He tries to learn how to do things by himself quicker to not be a burden to his dad and also to sometimes earn his dad's praise.

He lived his life not knowing who his mother is, but he's been quite hesitant to pry his dad into talking about it because Nacho would always look quite pained when he does try to talk about it. Nacho has always told Anatolii that, his mother always have and will continue to love him, it's just that there's a certain problem that's keeping her away from them. Out of love for his dad, he just took his word for it.

#ask stuff #that's not my neighbor #genderbend #nacha mikaelys #anastacha mikaelys

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angstigone · 3 months ago

Text

WARNINGS: idiots-to-lovers, afab character - she/her pronouns, cliffhanger ending.

although you should have paid much more attention to your office crush, your mind had all been focused on aki to your right, who looked painfully irritated, enough that you weren't startled when he excused himself for a smoke break.

you were more startled when he excused you as well with him.

"you do remember I don't smoke?" you had whispered promptly as you got up from the floor, smiling at your office crush with a forcefulness that made your jaw click awkwardly.

it had been going that well as you had been glad to have put right in front of your office crush and hence it had felt naturally to start catching up and chatting about events.

well, he did a whole lot more of chatting than you and you were sure that he had cut you through a few times, but you were talking after long months of pining away at your desk in the hopes he'd notice you.

"I know" aki had replied sombrly, holding the door open for you to exit the busy izakaya and move outside in the chilly air of the beginning of autumn; the past few days had been pretty cold and you cursed yourself for having changed in a dress at the knowledge that it'd be your - one and only - chance to catch the eye of your office crush "... I just... well, I had to talk with you".

«couldn't it wait tomorrow?» you asked as you adjusted the coat around your shoulders to further shield yourself from the cold, standing the closest to the heat of the inside «... the conversation was going so well and it was... oh gods, it was flowing!».

«are you sure?».

aki's tense comment got you immediately self-doubting as you tried to recall the exact last words you had spoken to your office crush, immediately senidng you panicking before he added, while putting the cigarette between his lips.

«... because from what I could see he was the sole one talking. that isn't a conversation in my book».

you startled, definitely taken aback and after a first moment of confusion you couldn't help but be the irritated one: had aki just pulled you aside to... chastise you?

«well, I mean... he's... it's good, still, though?».

your experience with relationship was lacking as a former unpopular student; maybe that was also why you struggled so much to make the first move and had been basically snowballed by that trainwreck of a crush.

«... I don't mind it».

«you should».

since when had aki started giving out relationship advice? you did know he hadn't a girlfriend and neither he had had one for the time in which you had known each other, so what was he going to judge you on? w

hat were his grounds and what were his credentials?

professional party-pooper?

«... I don't... he doesn't seem like a nice guy».

«don't you know that girls usually go for bad boys?» you humored him, clearly wishing for this conversation to unfold in another whole way; the tone felt so heavy that you could cut the tension with a knife and wondered what got aki to act so somberly «... either way, I do apprecciate the concern, aki, but believe me...».

«is that... is that who'd you like be with?» although from anybody else it'd have sounded judging and ominous, strangely aki - and his blue eyes - had the ability to make it sound painfully serious, and more concerned than patronizing.

still, you couldn't help but feel slightly burned by the comment, moving further into the entrance of the place while aki exhaled promptly smoke from his mouth.

with his eyes set up onto you, it was impossible not to look at him: he looked handsome, damningly so and hadn't you been painfully aware that aki didn't do relationships, your work crush would have probably been him: pretty loose hair framing a delicate face with pretty features and a body that you knew was honed by training.

a forbidden fantasy that got you blushing.

«ahem... he is funny, and he...» you struggled sudenly to find adjectives to describe your office crush: you certainly thought him handsome but he paled if compared to aki.

he was funny, indeed, but in a way that got you to feel a bit annoyed at times as he recounted stories time over time that made nobody laugh.

he was... respectful you thought, but he had given you the bare minimum and he had indeed over time talked above you.

«... well, there isn't such a huge choice in the office».

and neither in the world outside, you had to admit: dating apps didn't work nor speed dating events or such. or better, they didn't work for anybody but you; was something wrong with you? probably but you were desperate.

and you were just about ready to throw yourself at a 'decent' man, a casual find instead of a perfect match.

«... well, you don't have to settle for him».

and maybe it was the fact that aki saw right through you that you felt yourself grow angry when you knew he was right all along; he had no right to be like that, no right to call you out at all for trying to form a relationship when he had backed off from them all too well.

maybe, if he hadn't been so emotionally unavailable...

no, that was a dangerous ecanrio that you didn't want to go down on; you knew of some subtle and unspoken feelings you had for aki, but they were to be kept smashed down and ignored, because otherwise you'd have ruined a good friendship.

«and you don't have to tell me what to do» you shot back, cringing at the harsh way in which you sounded; aki might have been sticking his nose where he shouldn't have but this didn't give you the right to berate him for something that was within you only «... I like him. maybe he isn't perfect, but I like him and I want to start a relationship with him so that's enough».

you had hoped that aki would banter again - if anything to show he cared -, but instead after a moment of confusion he simply smoked the last of his cig, nodding slowlu as he dropped his head to have his hair fall onto his face.

«yeah, I... heard you loud and clear» he spoke slowly, smushing his cig underneath his sole, promptly cruushing it in a quiet fashion that had you wondering whether he had heard you "loud and clear" as he had said «... it's cold, I... it's better if we go inside, alright?».

you nodded, a bit uneasy after this conversation - definitely unsettled at how attentive to you aki had been - but moved inside slowly, somehow not comforted in the slightest when your office crush waved you over, as you took back your place in front of him, catching with your side-eye aki settling onto your opposite sides but quickly collecting his coat and wallet.

"already going, aki?" himeno muttered, with her usual slurred speech while a poor arrai barely escaped her grasp "... you truly are no fucking fun!".

"think I have had enough for the night" aki replied gently, before putting an hand onto your shoulder strangely comforting and far warmer than the whole room "... have a good evening".

and like that he was off, as your eyes stayed linked on his back till it disappeared, brought back when your crush snapped his fingers in your face to regain your attention before starting to talk again; much to your horror, you found out that without rose-tinted heart shaped glasses, aki was right: he was an idiot.

his rambles weren't cute nor interesting and although you tried to fake a smile through them, by the time that everybody moved away from the bar, you were exhausted and socially drained.

"would you like to... have a coffee at my place? to end the night?" you were startled when your office crush asked you to stay, while you wrapped a scarf tightly around himeno's neck, least she got cold while obviously passed out.

had he asked you such a thing an hour before, you'd have been throughly happy, but somehow you couldn't help but overanalyze every small detail, like the fact that he had drunk almost as much as miss himeno and insisted that you did as well, although you weren't that big of a drinker.

his cologne smelled far too intensely and his eyes lingered all too close to where your dress pushed your chest up.

was this the man you truly wanted to go out with?

were you that desperate and alone to wind up with such a dude?

your mind flashed with deep blue eyes and concern, a warm hand on your shoulder and the gentle tone of somebody who cared.

"I am wiped" you immediately saw the disappointment over office crush's features and somehow you found yourself not caring at all, whereas his rejection would have meant the worst for you "... maybe another time".

"yes of course" no 'I enjoyed talking with you, tonight' or anything else.

and somehow that was all you needed.

---

monday you felt like couldn't have come sooner as you moved quickly into your cubicle, no longer catching snaps of former office crush; if anything, you ducked your head when he passed clearly searching for you, and were glad when aki came, looking as polished as ever although he hadn't the same precise glint. something was amiss.

it was already telling that he hadn't messaged you n the weekend aside for a "did you arrive home safe?" (that sounded like "did you go home, alone?"), but you had tried not to give it too much thought. you tried not to give too much thought to the night spent drinking.

not at all.

«hey!» you called him over, noticing he didn't have the air of somebody who had had his morning coffee «... coffee?».

at the canteen, you found that aki's silence extended from the weekend onto the weekdays as he stayed quiet after the usual pleasantries.

«you didn't ask me about how my weekend went» you took it upon yourself to speak up.

«mmh, thought you'd fill me in» he said, lightly brushing with his tips the hot lid of the plastic cup of coffee; the gesture shouldn't have felt as dirty-minded as you thought it «... anything interesting happened?».

«aside a good session of romcoms on my own with ice cream? not really» you shot back «... although I did receive a proposal on friday night. for some coffee... from you-know-who».

obviously even aki could tell that the proposal wasn't about coffee.

«mmh» it would have seemed disinterested but by now you knew all about aki hayakawa's slight moans «... how did it go? probably bad considering the romcoms and ice...».

«I didn't go» you flustered lightly, feeling silly at your admission, although not because again you were lonely and painfully single but somehow you hoped that aki wouldn't catch the reason why you hadn't gone with it «... you were right. he was a bit of a tool. talked too much and out of place... I don't... well, I don't know what got me into him in the first place».

you expected for aki to goad, to mutter a quiet and comforting 'I told you so' but nothing came out of his mouth for a long time making the silence awkward enough that you were about to excuse yourself and your coffee when he spoke again.

«I am glad» he spoke slowly as if he was coming up witht he words as he went, although they seemed also somehow practiced «... I... I know he wasn't the one for you. I... you deserve somebody better».

you doubted it somehow, but you doubted even more than you could find better and in an attack of sarcasm you shot back caustically.

«why the sudden concern, hayakawa?».

«because I like you» of course, he liked you as he was your best friend «... like... because I wish I could be the one. the right one for you».

you hadn't expected that in the slightest and it seemed not even your friend as he regarded you for a moment as if you had been the one admitting to him your sudden attraction to him.

«I... I....» he stalled, and as his face shot out sudden looks at you, you found yourself unable to speak what was aching in your mind; you had denied for so long your feelings for him that you had thought that they'd never come up your throat agaiin «... sorry, I... I ruined it, didn't I».

«no, aki, I...» that was all you managed to say before he was the one that got up, eyes darting everywhere but upon you as he said what broke your heart next.

«don't... you don't have to worry, I... I'll assure myself that my... my feelings won't interfere... it'll be like always... I won't make it awkward».

and somehow that felt more hurtful than straight up rejection.

part 2?

#Aki Hayakawa x Reader #Aki Hayakawa Fic #Aki Hayakawa x Y/N #Akii Hayakawa x You #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakwa fic #aki hayakawa x y/n #aki hayakwa x you #csm #csm x reader #CSM #CSM x Reader #csm fic #CSM Fic #csm x y/n #CSM x Y/N #csm x you #CSM x You

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fountainpenguin · 5 months ago

Text

☁️ Cloudlands AU ☁️

Fairly OddParents

A serious deep-dive into FOP's worldbuilding, with a focus on sewing seemingly conflicting canon together to create consistent lore. Heavy emphasis on non-human biology and complex magical cultures.

#ridwork guides

What Is Cloudlands AU?

An FOP series ft. detailed lore and character relationships. The goal is fanfics that expand on the show's canon without conflicting it if at all possible, even if that means wild explanations.

Why does Crocker's portal to Fairy World have a completely new design every time it appears? Who's that anti-fairy kid Jorgen claims H.P. and Anti-Cosmo raised together? What's up with the Sacred Silver Pencil Sharpener of Canada? And are you telling me Cosmo and Wanda were assigned as godparents to Erg 40,000 years before they were married, presumably while Wanda and Juandissimo were dating? What was that like? We talk about it all!

A carefully considered magic system does a lot of heavy lifting. ❤️

AO3 Series: 130 Station, Rainbow Train, and Other Arcs

FOP blog tag - #FAIRIES!

Tone

Mostly drama with fluff and angst mixed in.

Characters

Mainly Pixies (H.P. & Sanderson), Anti-Fairies (Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, Foop), & the late modern kids (Poof, Goldie, Goldie's counterpart Anti-Marigold).

Cosmo, Wanda, Timmy, Chloe, and other humans (such as Denzel Crocker, Kevin Crocker, Gary, Betty, and Ed Leadly) also have arcs and messy backstories.

Ships

Canon-compliant, but expanded on. Ex:

- Anti-Cosmo married his childhood betrothed while Anti-Wanda was dating Anti-Juandissimo.

- H.P. and several OCs across his long life. Those romances go... great!

- Shout-out to Mark/Vicky, Poof/Goldie, Foop/Anti-Marigold, Foop/Anti-Coriander, Timmy/Molly & Chloe/Kevin (My beloveds...)

- Also worth mentioning that I treat Wanda/Juandissimo as a sincere and pleasant part of their backstories. They went their separate ways, but had a non-abusive dating life. They were friends :)

- Sanderson has a ton of will o' the wisp dating life issues, but we don't have time to unpack that right now.

Setting

Most works take place in the cloudlands, which include Fairy World, Anti-Fairy World, and Pixie World. Some works takes place in Dimmsdale. Rarely works take place elsewhere, such as alien planets or Unwish Island.

Is It For Me?

This AU is highly detailed. It clings to canon to the point of being ridiculous. It can be tough to get into due to long works and a heavy focus on less popular characters (such as Pixies), but there's a lot to read.

This AU focuses more on magical beings in the supporting cast than it does the main cast, but there are still notable pieces about the mains.

For a breakdown of detailed lore, see the Orange Train post

Major Themes

Growing up, making mistakes, pushing through hard times, recovery, revenge, forgiveness, growth, change, and letting go.

Plot Highlights

- Origin of the Pixies - A young H.P. contracts the real-world bacteria Wolbachia pipientis, which causes wasps to reproduce asexually. Now he's caring for an exponentially increasing amount of pixies he never wanted in the first place, on top of drama like his wife accusing him of cheating and him being kidnapped by Cupid's family because he's the holotype of a brand new species.

- Frayed Knots - Anti-Cosmo, raised in the anti-fairy baby ban era, experiments with Anti-Fairy biology in the hopes he'll discover a loophole to achieve his dream of being a father. In doing so, he finds a breakthrough that could possibly flip biology around so Anti-Fairies are the hosts and Fairies are their reflective counterparts bound to their whims... and he becomes obsessed with fathering a generation whose biology is exactly that.

- 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash - Happy Peppy Gary and Betty were raised as Pixie tools since they were 10. At age 18, Betty opts to wipe her magical memories, cut ties with Gary, and move to Brightburg. Gary, blindsided and desperate, throws himself down a trainwreck of bad decisions in an attempt to retrieve her memories from Fairy World. Everybody clap for him. (And other stories.)

- Come What May - Kevin Crocker spends the spring with an uncle and grandmother he's never met. Ghosts, the popular kids, an anti-fairy, and his uncle's talking cat make it their personal mission to bother him. It's a good thing he's dead inside.

Ongoing?

This long-term passion project began in March 2016. It is ongoing with intent to wrap up the existing projects in the next several years. Updates tend to come in bursts with breaks in between.

- Want AO3 emails? Subscribing to both the Rainbow Train & 130 Station series will cover everything in Cloudlands AU.

- Or, subscribe to specific plot arcs. Find the list HERE.

Warnings, notes, and explanations below so readers can learn more about this AU. Proceed with caution. Don't like? Don't read.

- There are abused children, neglectful adults, and non-human characters in fanfics for the show about abused children, neglectful adults, and non-human characters?? Scandalous. (Seriously though, this one's a doozy)

👀 Take a Peek

New here? You might like to start with these:

- "Mama's Boy" (G - 3000 words) - A back-and-forth comparison of Cosmo's upbringing against Anti-Cosmo's. Quick and easy read, and definitely a fan-favorite.

- "Make You Proud" (G - 4700 words) - Anti-Wanda is excited that she won a gold medal at the Fairy World Games. She tries to get Anti-Cosmo's attention while he's distracted with the event. Fluffy, silly character study.

- "Step Back" (G - 5600 words) - Foop gets overwhelmed at a party with his extended family. A brief glimpse into Anti-Fairy World and who Foop is shaping up to be as a person. Foop is my favorite to write character studies for and this is an oldie, but a goodie.

- "Solo" (T - 6000 words) - A young pixie answers phones as part of his coming of age trial. Things go awry when Gary and Betty call for help from Florida and the inexperienced pixie is at a loss about how to get them back to California. Takes place during the S4 episode "Baby Face." Huge personal favorite of mine; this is where plot really kicks off. Good introduction to the drama you can expect in a lot of my work.

- "Sentry" (G - 6000 words) - The start of a 3-part arc about Poof, Foop, and their pixie classmate (Finley) at boarding school before transitioning to spring break. The arc starts with Poof getting in trouble for fighting, then moves to Poof reflecting while on the bus, then moves to the three kids spending time with their grandparents.

- Very soft drama with some fluff; a good taste without getting overwhelmed. Also, this arc is more recent than the pieces above, which were posted in 2016. - Takes place at the end of 130 Prompts Arc 2, so it does contain very minor plot spoilers.

Start Reading

Recommended ways to get into the full AU

🌄 First Written - Baby, You're a Rich Man

H.P. and Sanderson got their hands on a baby clown. Now they just have to get him safely back to Pixie World when they've been deprived of magic and damaged their truck.

- Based on the Season 4 episode "School's Out! The Musical" - An introduction to magic basics, biology, and world lore through Sanderson's eyes. - Throws readers directly into the thick of things with Sanderson's meandering thoughts and extremely unhealthy fixation on H.P. and/or taking over as Head Pixie someday

🗑️ 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash

The 130 Prompts project is a series of one-shots that explores my FOP character ideas and worldbuilding.

- "Excitement" (G - 7500 words) - The first piece written for my series 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash. It's about the Pixies traumatizing 10-year-old Gary and Betty at an amusement park so they'll cling to safety in the future. From here, you can read the 130 Prompts series in recommended order if you like.

If you're new to my worldbuilding, I recommend reading the prompts in the suggested order instead of chronological order. This way, you'll be given worldbuilding info in order instead of jumping to a piece where that info is assumed.

📅 Chronological Start - "First Things First"

A 10k-word piece (G-rated) about nature spirit OCs, featuring cameos of canon characters like Mother Nature, Father Time, and the Grim Reaper. This piece sets up lore for the Fairy zodiac, which plays a role in Frayed Knots especially.

- Each piece in the 130 Prompts series has Previous and Next links so you can either read in recommended order or you can follow the chronology from start to end. - Reading chronologically is not recommended unless you're already familiar with the worldbuilding - Full timeline chronology (Entire Cloudlands AU)

🗺️ Worldbuilding - So, You're Studying the Cloudlands...

A collection of worldbuilding and meta essays covering subjects like biology, culture, history, holidays, magic, maps, and a handbook on new godkid assignments.

You may also like my @riddledeep blog, where I first posted this meta. I'm currently moving things to the guide linked above. This way, the content is backed up and accessible to those who don't use Tumblr. Posts will remain on the blog.

📋 AU Notes & Warnings

Author writes villain encounters & villain backstories about complex non-human societies and does not inherently condone any viewpoints presented by characters or the societies they live in.

- This series focuses heavily on Pixies, Anti-Fairies, and cloudland or Fae culture. There is less focus on human godchildren or the main characters in the show (like Timmy, Cosmo and Wanda).

- This series is built so that many intricate storylines and worldbuilding elements weave together. There's no shame in skipping pieces you don't want to read, but you may miss plot or worldbuilding details important to the larger story. It can be intimidating to get into such a big project.

- This series does have fluff, but relies on drama. Content may be upsetting, and the order you read things may limit the chance for mental breaks.

- Lots of drama and complicated things going on. I recently changed the rating of my longfics to Not Rated & Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings due to the sheer variety of things, such as:

- Fantastic racism (Fairies, Anti-Fairies, Pixies, genies, and others disliking each other)

-> Show canon heavily implies these races have conflict. Jorgen faced no pushback for calling Norm a "filthy genie" on international TV. Jorgen and others refer to Pixies with rude terms such as "cone-headed freaks", etc.

- Social ladder/caste system (Cupid's ancestors organized fae in a list many generations ago to help Fairies find species with heat cycles that overlapped theirs, but the system has been corrupted into legal discrimination)

- Biologically assigned status (Male Fairies who eat a lot of jelly at a young age will develop into gynes: big, tough, freckled Fairies who fight with each other to defend their turf and drone companions. Think how H.P. and Big Daddy have unique body shapes compared to the other Fairies. They're gynes!)

- Some young bees are fed royal jelly so they develop into queens. The name for these "princesses" is gynes, so I yoinked that

- Most of the pixies are drones, apart from a few gynes. Vice President Longwood is due to succeed H.P. as Head Pixie someday, which Sanderson (a drone) absolutely despises.

- Fairies lick each other in greeting to spread pheromones, mirroring a hive of eusocial bees that gather near the queen to lick her

It's basically a non-sexual A/B/O dynamic, which was completely unintentional and I got a good laugh out of it when I realized what A/B/O was years ago. Convergent evolution...

- Mpreg - It's canon in the show that male Fairies give birth. I don't have anything to say about it; just that it's canon in my work too and treated with the same sincerity as everything else.

- Injury - Includes long-term injury, temporary injuries, and self-harm (Ex: Cutting your palm to stop using magic so you won't age). I don't consider this series bloody or gory. Fairies do have rainbow blood that's mentioned occasionally, but they're very elastic and heal quickly. The humans don't really have bloody moments.

- Character death - Most common when gynes fight to the death, but I've written other deaths as well, such as one where the Pixies caused a car crash on purpose because it benefited them.

-> Fairies are very resilient. Anti-Fairies regenerate if they're killed, as they can't die if their host counterpart (the Fairy) still lives. Death isn't overly common in my 'fics, but I'd feel weird warning for other things and not mentioning this one.

- Sexism (Anti-Fairy World tends to look down on women; Anti-Cosmo in particular tends to parrot the sexist beliefs he grew up with and gets annoyed at pushback)

-> Male bats often mate with many females (up to 30 sometimes). I built Anti-Fairy society around the idea that females outnumber males, but males see it as a sign that many women should be subservient to them because "it's nature." Anti-Cosmo is a product of his culture. Diversity loss! The villain has harmful views!

-> Anti-Fairies tend to be less racist and more sexist than Fairies while Fairies tend to be less sexist and more racist.

- Honey-lock - Anti-Fairies get flooded with hormones and magic 3 months after their counterparts mated. The pair are driven to locate each other, mate, and produce children in reflection of their counterparts.

-> what do you mean that's traumatizing? Dang, you guys live like this?

-> Anti-Cosmo's underlying goal in Frayed Knots is to beat the system so the next generation of Anti-Fairies will be born without the honey-lock's effects.

- Sociosexual Anti-Fairy culture - Anti-Fairies have a touch-based society themed around bonobos because I thought it would be interesting, particularly in a society where pregnancy is out of your control anyway (i.e. you can't accidentally get pregnant- It's in your counterparts' hands).

-> I do think "It feels good and we have few consequences, so why not?" is a reasonable direction for their culture

-> I'm not sure I would make that same choice years later, as it can be quite off-putting, but I'm glad I got to worldbuild with such unique building blocks. I enjoy it, but it's not for everyone.

- Infidelity (Anti-Cosmo cheats on his wife before Anti-Wanda and is implied to sometimes cheat on Anti-Wanda)

-> You're telling me the sexist sociosexual culture has infidelity and the evil villain fell into it? Bummer...

- Iris Virus - Having colored eyes in Anti-Fairy culture is played as an STD that's ceremonially passed to new individuals (because... sociosexual culture).

-> Also, what was I supposed to do with almost every Anti-Fairy having red eyes but Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, Foop, and the occasional background Anti-Fairy have other colors? Genetics? No way! 😃👍

-> RIP Anti-Cosmo. I'm sorry I find it hilarious that you cheat on all your partners and then sob like your trust's been shattered when your wife chooses to pass the virus on to secure allegiance with a valuable ally. Her body, her choice, dude.

- Child, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Frayed Knots in particular is not a hunky-dory story; Anti-Cosmo was often hit as a child. Some characters are cruel to Anti-Cosmo and he is cruel to others as well.

-> There are abuse themes in the Fairly OddParents 'fics?? The TV show about abused kids? what won't they think up next.

-> Cosmo's mother is doting in canon, so I portray Anti-Cosmo's mom as abusive to him.

-> Living in a sexist sociosexual culture sometimes leads to sexual abuse?? Also, belonging to a species that is magically forced to reproduce when your counterparts do even if you didn't consent is probably also sexual abuse? wild.

-> In Origin of the Pixies, H.P. was kidnapped by a will o' the wisp in his younger years and pressured into sex while she was producing milk for newborn Sanderson.

-> H.P. is emotionally distant and not the best at coping with what happened to him. He doesn't necessarily pursue help or get the best closure to this story. Don't hold the villains up as role models.

-> Foop has an alternate personality. This is canon; here's a compilation video I made of his appearances in the series (Note, this compilation includes Foop's Terrific Twos and some scenes where his alter is implied with eye highlights and a high voice to be there, but not confirmed). It's heavily implied he gained this personality due to being isolated in Abracatraz since the day he was born.

-> Cupid's family kills any children that aren't born triplets due to a sacred oath his ancestors took to uphold love all hours of the day. Tradition requires three children to split the magic by way of Morning, Afternoon, and Evening.

-> I would say it's also child abuse that Jorgen was raised with all the pressures of being Keeper of the Rules from the moment he was born, including being pressured to cut off his own wings in line with the tradition of "noble self-sacrifice."

- Young characters & implied offscreen sex - Are you seriously telling me the popular teens might've had sex when they were something like 150,000 years old and they'd been together since childhood? What on earth.

-> In Anti-Fairy society, you're recognized as a full adult at age 150,000.

-> In Fairy World, you're recognized as an adult when you moult your juvenile wings and grow your adult wings. This is generally between ages 140,000 and 180,000.

-> In Pixie World, you're recognized as a full adult at age 250,000. H.P. keeps age of majority high to encourage his pixies to establish themselves in Pixie World instead of leaving. These are non-human cultures that each have their own views.

-> Poof and Goldie have an arc about Goldie having Harm OCD over the fear that she'll fall into her will o' the wisp species stereotype and take advantage of Poof. Meanwhile, Poof has panic attacks because he's pretty sure she did, but blames himself for not being more self-aware. 😬

-> Foop gave his lover Anti-Marigold the iris virus when they were considered young adults in Anti-Fairy society (but still in school) to see if his dad would notice. Years later, he has a breakdown over the fact Anti-Cosmo never did, nor does he seem to care if his son is being reckless.

-> The sexual part of the Celebrity Kids arc is kept off-screen throughout the 130 Prompts. This arc is about the stress of being high schoolers treated like celebrities, ambassadors, royalty, and sports stars.

- Implied incest in H.P.'s family line before he was born (In the old days, it was common to marry cousins to preserve money. This custom has ended in modern times, but comes up on rare occasion)

-> It's implied this family history led to the genetic mutation that gave him wasp biology; that mutation plays a big role in his story.

-> H.P. talks about how he admires his counterpart, whom he considers a cousin. Sometimes other characters mock his admiration because of his infamous family history. It's not even important in his present-day life; it's just that my 'fics are full of jerks.

Some topics may make you uncomfortable. You don't have to read them, but that's part of fleshing out these very detailed, long-lived cultures and their messy underbellies. They're Fae. Were you expecting giddy fluff?

- Summaries for my multi-chapter FOP 'fics

- Summaries for 130 Prompts (with emoji guide)

- Want more info? Send an Ask!

You can create works based on this AU. Please cite me and/or the AU as appropriate (i.e. for things very specific to this AU). You are free to expand on ideas you've thought of thanks to my AU as a jumping off point. I'd love to reblog or link things to my AO3 works if I see them!

I write drama content with morally gray characters. Please don't portray my story events or worldbuilding out of context with intentional malice. In other words, I request you do not post things created for the specific intention of mocking me or the AU. It's not to everyone's tastes, but it's built with sincerity and it is loved <3

#ridwork guides #ridwriting #FAIRIES!#Origin of the Pixies #Frayed Knots #130 Prompts #Come What May #apparently art #Long post #We're Pixies!#Bat cube and associates #Dragonfly parents #Cloudlands AU

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loveofmychips · 1 year ago

Text

get him back! - Steven Hyde x Reader

A/N: first time writing for That 70s Show! This is based on Season 1, and inspired by the new song, ‘get him back!’ by Olivia Rodrigo. I heard the lyrics and thought immediately of Hyde. Hope you love this, and let me know what you think. DISCLAIMER, I DO NOT SUPPORT DANNY MASTERSON, I AM WRITING FOR THE CHARACTER HYDE ONLY!!!

Summary: you decide you want to get your ex back….just in a more ‘sinister’ way

Pairing: Steven Hyde x Reader

Word Counter: 3,512

Warnings: angst, slow burn, cursing, toxic relationship (pls don’t think this is healthy lol), lotsss of arguing, mentions of sex, harassment, alcohol

~~~~~~~~

I met a guy in the summer, and I left him in the spring

He argued with me about everything

He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye

He said he's six-foot-two, and I'm like, "Dude, nice try"

You were introduced to the gang in the summer by Donna. You had been talking to her throughout sophomore year, and she decided you would be a perfect fit for the group.

Everyone was kind of weird, but you found it fun and loved how things were always different with them, especially when it came to Steven Hyde.

You had always thought he was cute, even before officially meeting him. His curly hair was something you wanted to touch and play with, and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses made him seem mysterious. Not to mention, who doesn't love a ‘fuck the patriarchy’ kind of attitude.

So, despite it taking a while to happen, you both eventually started dating at the beginning of the new year. And it was a complete trainwreck.

Hyde was the worst boyfriend at times. He never wanted to do the things you wanted, he would show up late to pick you up, and sometimes it felt like you were just convenient eye candy.

What made it worse? It was clear he had a thing for Donna, despite her and Eric wanting to be together.

After a month, others started to notice.

You were in the basement with Eric, working on a school project when Donna walked in.

"Hey, y/n, can we talk?" Donna asked as she sat on the couch.

"Well, we are kind of busy," Eric started before you interrupted with, "Yeah, sure."

Eric looked taken aback but put his book down anyway and sat back. "Right, it's not like we need to do schoolwork. Who needs education?"

"Eric, shut up," Donna rolled her eyes. "Look, we need to talk about you and Hyde... I don't know if you should keep going out with him."

There was an awkward silence before Eric got up. "I'm gonna... go anywhere but here," he said before rushing up the steps.

"What are you talking about?" You sighed, putting down your own books.

"He treats you like crap! I was at The Hub yesterday, and he showed up. I asked if you were with him, and all he had to say was, 'No,' and I know for a fact you were excited to have a movie night with him last night. You don't deserve to be treated like that!" Donna insisted.

You hesitated for a moment. That's where he was. It was bad enough he never showed up for your date at the theater, but the idea that he was with Donna instead made it even worse. You ended up drowning your feelings in buttered-up popcorn and the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane."

Most of the time when he wanted to hang out, he would drag you out to multiple parties and any club he could sneak you both into. If it was something you wanted to do, like a movie night, you would find yourself alone.

You shrugged it off, telling Donna, "Oh no. We actually canceled it. I wanted some alone time."

Donna saw through your excuse and tried to argue with you, but that day you insisted on moving on.

It didn't get better. You had more interactions similar to it, not only with Donna but soon with Eric, Jackie, and even Fez, all within the same week.

He said I was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth

And when I told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me I was trippin'

But I am my father's daughter, so maybe I could fix him

"Hyde, can we talk?" You asked softly as he flipped through a magazine next to you on the bed.

"What about?" He mumbled, not really paying attention to you. Not like he had been for the entire two hours you'd been at his house.

"Hyde, you stood me up last week. Can you put down the magazine?"

Hyde huffed and threw it down, saying, "There. What?"

You took a deep breath and sat up on his bed. "Look, I know you're not always the most romantic or anything, and I'm not trying to demand too much, but can we agree that if we set a date, you'll show up to it? It's really embarrassing for me, and others notice-"

"It's none of their business. Since when did you care what the others think?" Hyde questioned, his eyes narrowing at you behind his dark-tinted sunglasses. Despite wearing them, you always could tell his expression behind them.

"Well, I care when I get told by everyone that you treat me like shit," you stated in a point-blank manner.

Hyde chuckled a little, as if you were stating lies that were barely grazing his tough, shielded skin. "I don't treat you like shit."

"You ditched me last week! I think I have a right to want to talk about it, instead of you grunting your way through it like a caveman," you defended, glaring at the man in front of you.

Hyde was pissed. You always let him off the hook, and the one time you tried to talk about it, he was acting like you were the bad guy.

"I'm not grunting! You're making a big deal out of nothing. This is why guys are better off being single. Girls make everything so complicated," Hyde snapped.

You were shocked he suggested the idea of it, but why should you be? It makes sense, doesn't it? The reason Hyde is a horrible boyfriend is that he doesn't want to be your boyfriend.

"Really? You mean that?" You whispered. "Then let's make it easier for you. We're over."

"Y/n, hold on-"

Before he could say anything else, you grabbed your jacket and rushed out of his house. As you left, you vaguely heard his mom yelling at you both to keep it down because her program was on.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to worry about that anymore.

So I write him all these letters, and I throw them in the trash

'Cause I miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh

Yeah, I pour my little heart out, but as I'm hitting "send"

I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends

Because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do

Two months later, you were still hanging out with the gang.

Strangely enough, you were fine with being around Hyde once you got over it. At least you thought you were. Hyde only tried once to talk to you about breaking up. As quickly as you shot him down, he backed off completely, and you two practically never had conversations longer than short one-liners of insults back at each other.

Despite all the bad, you found yourself mostly remembering the good. The reasons you liked him in the first place: Hyde made you laugh, he was one hell of a kisser, and he knew how to comfort you if you were upset about school or anything else that wasn't about him.

You found comfort in your journaling, writing out your thoughts constantly because if you admitted to Jackie or Donna you missed him at night, then they would surely yell at you.

You were content writing it out. At least you thought you were.

Prom night was coming up, and people were pairing up one by one, leaving you with only two options: go with Fez or someone you barely knew.

Both were not ideal.

You were with the girls at Donna's house as she showed off her cute outfit for Prom.

"These are the shoes I'm wearing to Prom! Aren't they cool?" Donna said, holding up silver low pumps with an excited smile.

"Oh my God, I was gonna get new shoes except Michael didn't ask me," Jackie replied before you could compliment the cute shoes.

Donna looked a little discouraged before turning around and grabbing her dress off the cabinet above the fridge. "You like my Prom dress, right?"

"Of course! It matches your eyes!" You grinned, holding the end of the beautiful blue satin dress.

"I was gonna get a new Prom dress... except Michael didn't ask me," Jackie said with a pouty expression, making you and Donna just awkwardly nod. Luckily, Donna knew how to move the conversation along.

"I'm so nervous about Prom! I think it's gonna be the night that Eric and I... you know?" Donna hinted, making Jackie state, "Oh my Gosh, that's when Michael and I were gonna do it the first time!"

"You and Kelso did it like two months ago, and like thirty times after that!" You groaned out. "Look, why don't you just ask Kelso to go with you if you're so desperate?"

Jackie gasped and looked on the verge of tears. "Okay, first off, it would've been the first time at a Prom! Second off, this is the Prom! This is not the time for your stupid feminist crap!"

The door opened to reveal Eric and Kelso. The door slammed, leading to a usual standoff between Kelso and Jackie. It felt like a wild west showdown.

"Hello, Michael."

"Hello, Jackie."

"I'm just here helping Donna get ready for Prom... because Eric and Donna are going to Prom," Jackie stated, with tears still in her eyes.

"Yes, we are," Eric nodded in agreement, making you roll your eyes at the awkwardness. Kelso chuckled and replied, "I'm going to Prom...". You and Donna looked at him in hope to end the pain of Jackie complaining, while Jackie's eyes widened up until he finished his sentence, "I'm taking Pam Macy."

Donna immediately stood up and bolted out of the room into her living room, to which Eric followed nervously.

"Well, I'm gonna go—" You started heading for the door until Jackie yanked your arm back to sit down at the dining table again.

"Well, I have a date too," Jackie stated in a matter-of-fact tone, making you look at her confused. Why in the hell would she lie about that?

Then Kelso's reaction made everything make sense.

"Who is it? What's his name?" Kelso interrogated, as if he was a detective finding out who the killer is. Jackie was a spoiled brat, but damn did she know how to get a reaction out of Kelso.

"His name is... not important. What's important is he's better than you, in every conceivable way," Jackie smirked, leaning back in her chair all smug.

"Well. Damn, Jackie! That can be anybody!"

I wanna get him back

I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

Jackie's brilliance shone through in her unintentional advice on getting back at Hyde. As for your story, here's the continuation with grammar and punctuation improvements:

That day, you left Donna's house with a passion you had never felt before. You wondered if this is how Hyde felt when he pulled pranks on the boys or did something bad. It felt risky, but also so damn good.

You ended up going to The Hub and found a guy from school, Ethan. You never had a particular interest in Ethan. He was sort of bland but popular at school for being on the basketball team. So why him?

You distinctly remembered that one afternoon when you were dating, Hyde thought the guys who played basketball on the team were stupid for wearing uniforms with shorts.

Plus, Ethan was still somehow available, so it was perfect, right?

Well, that's where you messed up. He was available because he was a creep. He was already hinting at getting you into a hotel room before you could even figure out what time he was picking you up.

As much as you'd love to change your mind, you knew you needed a date. The plan wouldn't work without one, plus Jackie would kill you for going stag. So you went with it.

The night of prom, Ethan showed up at your door with bad intentions in his eyes.

You wore a lovely (f/c) floor-length gown with black heels that fit wonderfully to your figure. Your (h/c) hair was left down and hairsprayed to perfection, and you held a small black purse with your stuff. Long story short, you looked hot. Any idiot would have been able to see that, meaning Hyde would too.

"Well, you look ready to stay in the back seat of my car all night," Ethan badly flirted, making you roll your eyes.

"I'm more interested in going to the prom... you know, the thing I asked you to in the first place?" You hinted while walking to his car.

He moved to open the passenger-side door for you, which was sweet until he ruined it with a, "Well, we will see how you feel after an hour."

This was going to be a long night.

Oh, I wanna get him back

'Cause then again, I really miss him, and it makes me real sad

Oh, I want sweet revenge, and I want him again

I want to get him back, back, back

The Point Place Junior Prom looked adorable with the multi-colored streamers, balloons, and a rocking band, which managed to cheer you up after the lousy ride there. The entire ride, Ethan kept trying to put his hand on your thigh, as if you'd skip the entire prom just for a loud five minutes with him in a crappy motel room.

You attempted to have a fun night, but disappointment was slowly taking over you. It was the end of the night, and everyone was slow dancing. Hyde had been with Jackie, and you doubted he even was looking at you.

Ethan was nonstop insisting all night on leaving, which only continued to bug you more and more.

"Hey, Ethan, can you get me some punch?" You asked, putting a halt to the dance.

"Yeah, fine." Ethan huffed and walked away. You walked over to the table where Jackie was sitting, noticing how sad she looked.

"Hey, Jackie... you look great tonight. That color is great on you," you complimented, realizing you hadn't talked to her all night due to her being with Hyde.

"Thanks... I'm sorry I brought Hyde. I thought it would make Michael jealous, but I don't think he cares about me with Pam Macy around," Jackie admitted, before her sad eyes became soft and hopeful.

You turned to see Kelso behind you, looking down at her with love.

"Jackie."

"Michael."

You smiled at them both before getting up from the table to leave them alone. At least someone's plan worked tonight. You looked around to try and spot Ethan. He was nowhere to be found near the refreshment table, and instead, you spotted Hyde watching you.

Hyde nodded up at you in his silent, "How you doin'?" style. Slowly, you started to walk towards him.

"Hey... how's the punch?" You attempted to joke, making him crack a small smile.

Hyde pulled back his jacket to reveal a small flask. "Better with alcohol. I would ask if you want some, but you barely drank when we were together."

"Well, maybe it's a good thing that was a while ago," you commented, getting some punch and holding out your cup for him to spike it.

Hyde smirked and poured some in for you until you heard someone clear their throat.

You turned to see the one and only, Ms. Kaminski.

"Is that alcohol I see?"

Oh, I wanna key his car, I wanna make him lunch

I wanna break his heart, stitch it right back up

I wanna kiss his face with an uppercut

I wanna meet his mom, and tell her her son sucks

"Dammit, Hyde, I can't believe you got us kicked out of the dance! My date is in there!" You scolded as the double school doors closed behind you both.

Hyde rolled his eyes and attempted to start walking away from you. "Oh yeah, your date. Ethan's a real charmer," Hyde mumbled.

This is what he always did. But you weren't letting him get away that easy. Not like when you were dating. You rushed in front of him and pushed back on his shoulder to make him stop walking.

"For your information, that date was my ride home! Thanks to you, I'm walking home in heels. Which, by the way, are not comfortable!" You snapped.

"Relax, man. I can drive you home. I got Jackie's Lincoln," Hyde groaned. "I thought with the drink maybe you have chilled out a bit—"

"Chill out? Hyde, this was the junior prom! I was excited for the dance, and now it's done! All because I accepted a fucking drink from your... your dumbass!" You yelled before lightly smacking his shoulder, as most of the gang does to each other.

"Screw you, Steven Hyde. Screw your alcohol, and screw your ride! Just screw, screw, screw!"

You don't think you ever said "screw" that much in your entire life. Usually, it's a regular curse word like "fuck," but for some reason, all you could think of was... well, "screw." That's all Hyde ever had done for you. He was the one who screwed everything up. Not just tonight, but your entire past relationship.

As you started walking away down the sidewalk to go home, you instantly started to regret not putting up with your anger for the ride. God, do heeled shoes start to hurt after a short time. You knew you got out what needed to, though. Despite your breakup being so explosive, Hyde and you never talked about it otherwise. Maybe that's just because he hates relationship drama and never brought it up. Or maybe you were just too weak from the pain to ever really confront him about it all.

Regardless, the tension between you two had been brewing for 3 months, and you should have known it would have been released sooner or later.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a car approaching you from the side, and though you tried not to look, you eventually did.

Hyde was slowly driving next to you with the Lincoln, just as he promised earlier. He started rolling down the windows and said, "Y/n, get in."

"No."

"Stop acting tough. I know your feet probably hurt."

You stopped at that statement. You turned towards the window as anger slowly started brewing again.

"Oh yeah? Because you know so much, don't you? You know everrrrrything about me, don't you? Tell me more about how I'm feeling, oh please, Hyde." You growled, turning and starting to walk again.

Hyde jumped out of the Lincoln, slamming the door closed and jumping in front of you.

"You should be grateful, man! Your date was a creep and was grabbing your ass all night!" Hyde snapped. "Now cut the crap, and get in the damn car!"

His words made you freeze before saying, "How would you know he was grabbing my ass?"

"What am I, stupid?! I watched you all night—" He started before realizing what he was saying, "Dammit..."

"You're jealous—"

"No—"

"That I was with someone else." You finished.

"I wasn't jealous. I was just making sure he didn't do anything!" Hyde defended with a sigh.

You slowly moved towards him with a small smile covering your face, "Hyde..."

Hyde took a deep breath, "He's a jerk... And I was a jerk. You don't deserve that, alright? Not again." He mumbled, stepping towards you until you were close to each other's faces.

"You're right. I don't deserve that... so whatever this is right now should stop."

"Yeah... we should stop..."

Your words didn't match your actions. Neither of you backed away. It felt like hours you stood there staring into each other's eyes, when in reality it was only a minute.

"But what if we didn't?" Hyde whispered, gently reaching up to move your (h/c) hair out of your (s/c) face as a soft wind casted.

"Hyde—"

"I messed up. I know I did, alright? I suck and took you for granted. Can you forgive me?" Hyde pleaded, holding onto your face now with both of his hands.

You hesitated, knowing how everyone in the gang would feel. They would say you're stupid for taking him back. The amount of burns would be endless in the basement.

The fear of him hurting you again was strong... but damn, the temptation was stronger.

"You promise not to look at other girls? To go on dates with me like I want? To stop being late?" You whispered.

Hyde nodded quickly, "I promise—"

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Hyde wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible yet it still didn't feel close enough.

The taste of alcohol mixed with crappy high school dance punch never tasted better than on his lips and tongue. It sent fireworks throughout your body, knowing he was yours again. And it was gonna stay that way.

#steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #hyde x reader #steven hyde #eric forman #jackie burkhart #donna pinciotti #michael kelso #fez #olivia rodrigo guts #get him back

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