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1920sladydectective · 2 months ago

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Best Friend's Mother Ch.5 5.4K

This is the penultimate chapter everybody!

Love you all, thanks for reading my things! Scroll back on this account or check AO3 for the full story! Not proofread I am tired.

Enjoy Enjoy Enjoy

Considering the events of the previous evening, you should have anticipated a ridiculous morning.

Yawning, with bleary eyes, you left your room and were confronted with a wall of wrapping paper where the top of the stairs should be. A tap to the shoulder, an antler covered Kino.

“Mystic doorway,” He mumbles, “When Mel gets here we can smash through it and Mum will be waiting in a Santa hat,”

“You’re kidding,”

“Nope,” Mel added, appearing with hazy eyes. You were feeling it too. Port was brutal.

You were permitted to do the honours. Ruining the barrier, you were met with large white footprints going down the stairs towards the living room, and Ambessa Medarda wearing a Santa hat, wolf top and tartan trousers. The others smiled fondly, the novelty long since gone, but your heart was trapped in a whimsical vice. Muffled and shocked, a giggle tumbled out. You had never experienced this. Ever.

In the living room the most ridiculous show of presents lay under and around the tree, ornately wrapped with bows and ribbons. Your eyes couldn’t stay fixed on one thing, darting around madly till they settled on the mantelpiece

Four stockings, hand knitted, hung from the aged wood. The first three initials were obvious, but the addition of your own made your throat close oddly. You were so included here and it felt wrong, all things considered. You felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, a warm look in older eyes.

“Seems you’ve all been good,”

“Overdone it a bit this year, Mum,” Kino snorted, taking what was clearly his spot on the floor.

“Shut up, boy,”

Her touch grounded you, body relaxing as you saw the nibbled goodies and drained port. The carrots however, were intact.

“Guess Rudolph was just fine,” Sarcasm oozed, as you munched off the end of the carrot.

Mel smiled, pulling you roughly down next to her as you were handed your stockings. Your offer of carrot was rudely rejected and you waited with bated breath to take a peek. It was heavy, and lumpy, with a toblerone resting at the top. It was all your favourites and some things far too expensive to be stocking fillers in your mind. Lipstick, chocolates and a bottle of Rum. At the very bottom, resting sadly, was a Clementine. Kino had coal.

“Why?” It was outraged, cheeks full of chocolate coins.

“Perhaps Father Christmas didn’t appreciate you refusing to help me with the Games room remodel,” It was quiet, muffled by coffee.

He threw the coal at Mel, and a brawl began. You just nibbled a piece of fudge.

It was a slow and easy start, despite the family violence, and you sat talking with Mel as you had breakfast. The order, though different to your own, had been explained. Stockings, breakfast, gifts and then a family stroll.

A full english was slapped in front of you and you grunted.

“We normally save ourselves for the Christmas dinner in my house,”

“Foolish,” Ambessa said, beheading a sausage, “That makes your stomach shrink and reduces your appetite,”

Well. Fuck you I guess. Full English then.

Back in the sitting room, each person was handed a present.

Mel gave hers out first, swirling holly and ivy concealing presents that were so her it made you laugh. A spa holiday, for the both of you, in January. Ambessa received a collection of fancy cooking utensils and Kino received a book of mazes.

“This seems like a gift to yourself, Babe,” You smiled, flicking through all the treatments she’d bought, “Will I have any body left after it's cleaned and dissolved?”

“It’ll cleanse you of all your impurities,” Her gaze darted to an obvious place.

“Gee, Thanks,”

There was lots to get through and it seemed that they had refined patience with it that you did not possess. You had never seen this many gifts at once and wanted to eviscerate them to find the treasures beneath. Kino chucked another couple things each person’s way, some from Father Christmas, some from him.

He’d only gone and bought you a real tiara. Rich people are so fucking stupid. It sat proudly on your head all the same, swarovski crystals catching the light of the tree.

“Regal, your highness,” He bowed his head, eyes crinkled with joy.

“Twat,”

Father Christmas had been generous indeed, showering you with books and clothes and trinkets. You were a bit overwhelmed, dazed fingers stroking over jumpers and shoes as the Medardas continued to rip into the mountain. A sea of wrapping paper rested over your legs, warm and shiny as Ambessa drank an unholy amount of Brandy for 11am on a Wednesday.

She chucked you a lumpy package, this one actually from her rather than her fat old man counterpart. It was a stuffed toy, a book character Tigger from Winnie the Pooh to be exact.

“What?” You said, eyes gleaming, fingers buried in fuzziness.

“You mentioned it was your favourite childhood book,” Her lips smacked together, “And if you’re any of them it’s the hyperactive orange thing with an individuality complex,”

Wow. How sweet. Fuck.

“Your hat’s falling off,” You muttered to push the warmth away, passing her the gifts you’d begrudgingly bought, “These are yours,”

Ambessa took the pile, eyes murky as you watched intently for her reaction. You still needed her to like them, to like you. Mel couldn’t expect you to fall out of love that quickly.

A rough tear, paper crumpling to reveal a blu-ray DVD. Trading Places, of course. The smile she wore changed, lips twisting as if to contain something you couldn’t see.

“My favourite,” Her tone was far away, perhaps as trapped in the memory as you became every time you entered that room.

“Still don’t know what it’s about,” A lie, you watched it repeatedly on your laptop in October, half drunk and sobbing, “Sure it’s good,”

“We’ll watch it together sometime,” Dear god you hoped not.

“Okay!” It was dismissive, that was all you had, “Next one!”

The next one in question was a Lucky cat figure who looked suspiciously like Mina, paw waving up and down rhythmically. Her laugh filled the space, hard and strong, as the lookalike summoned the feline herself.

“It is you, Little Demon,” Ambessa whispered, “She has gifted me a VooDoo doll,”

Kino snorted, snatching Mina and peppering her with kisses, “Ignore the witch, Fluff,”

The last gift from you she reacted to silently, a heavy gulp in her throat. A little, hand carved statue of three wolves snuggled in one another, babes and mother ornately preserved. Her smile winded you, watery for but a moment.

The rest of the presents passed in a blur, your pile growing seemingly higher and higher until you’d forgotten half of the things. One thing that managed to stand out was Kino’s ridiculous gift to Ambessa; apparently her 9th wolf shirt, this one covered in a howling wolf with the word ‘Alpha' in icy block lettering.

She seemed, confusingly, to favour this above all other gifts as if it were a priceless relic. Mel, bundled in a new dressing gown from Damson Madder, seemed totally unsurprised.

Thankfully, that heralded the end of the gifts, and you were all given twenty minutes to get dressed and ready for the walk. As they shuffled out of the living room, a calloused hand gripped your arm to keep you in place. Ambessa, brown envelope in hand, looked down at you.

“Everything alright?”

“This is your last gift, Dear,” The rough paper slipped into your hand, the other hand still holding your arm.

Panic. Curiosity. A fluttering, harsh pull in your stomach. “What is it?”

“Open it,” She was earnest, no teasing, eyes softer than you’d ever seen.

Doing as instructed, you pulled out several pieces of paper. Trade invoices. Heating, Foundational, Pipe, Roof, and some stuff you didn’t even understand.

“It’ll be completed by the 6th,” Honeyed words, caring, daggers to your heart, “You deserve to enjoy this holiday, and your studies, without the burden of such things,”

You were stammering, eyes cloudy with salt water, as trembling fingers moved through each document. She’d solved years of problems with the flick of an ornate wrist, a trump card of good will she was giving up wielding in favour of giving you privacy. This was no bribe, there was no motive here that you could see, she had done it just because it would help you.

Ambessa was feeling a tad dizzy. Indulgence in brandy and emotional niceties leaving her reeling. You had been perfect all morning, a cocktail of wonder and sarcasm that swirled her mind harder than any drink could. Each reaction a glance or gasp to be cherished, her chest warm as you ended up in a tidal wave of wrapping. Each moment in your presence seemed more tenuous, but she could not fight the need for her next fix. It was a cruel trick, one she deserved, the way you had seemed to curl around her spine and crush it with a grin. Each attempt to slot into Mel’s rules felt like the loss of a limb. She had lost this fight, in more ways than one.

“Ambessa,” It was a croak, the very light of the sun caught in your eyes, “Thank you!”

“No quip about presumptive rich people?” She said, thumb stroking along your forearm, “No class conscious rant?”

A giggle, more silly than you wished, as your damp eyes rolled, “You’ve just saved my life, my childhood home, that’s what you bastards should be doing,”

“Seems I’m learning yet another thing from you then,”

An embrace, rushed and harsh, to prevent the kiss dancing across your lips. She was awful and perfect and you hated her. “I’m going to go get dressed,”

She wished you wouldn’t leave, perhaps ever, to allow her to linger in the aftermath of Christmas morning when it was just you and the fire and tender, crushed skin on skin. The moment ended all the same, and she sat on her armchair with a loud grunt.

The walk was nicer than you’d anticipated, Kino and Ambessa smashing snow at each other as Mel quietly spoke in your direction. Today had felt lighter with her, some tension drained by the closeness of the night before. She’d gotten angry again, called you a few names, and nuzzled into your arms. Her grievances came in waves, as did most of her thought processes, and you didn’t mind the repetitiveness for each time you gained a small chunk back.

Which is why, as she told you about Jayce and Viktor’s new idea, you did not notice the solid mass flying towards your face. Kino stood, eyes wild, gathering another bundle.

There was war after that, plain and simple.

At quarter to two you stumbled back through the French doors, hair damp and lip quivering from cold as Ambessa tugged a triumphant Mel through the door.

“You can’t contain me just because you lost,” She growled, pulling against her mother’s hold.

You avoided the conflict, darting upstairs and diving into the hot shower with such urgency you still had your koala socks on. Fancy shampoo and conditioner pushed away the grime of the outside as your forehead lent against the cool tile. This Christmas, though only half way through, had rocked your world. Ambessa Medarda creating an almost dreamlike, unattainable level of Christmas magic seemed ridiculous. Though, you supposed, she had always been good with grandness and negligent of day to day. You hadn’t needed a summer affair to figure that out. That knowledge did nothing to banish her soft eyes from your mind, that silly bloody Santa hat frizzing up her greying curls, as she did the best thing she’d ever done for you. Fuck her. In every way. Dangerous Path. Cold water smacked you back to Christmas day.

Rictus, sweet angel that he was, had prepared everything and left it in the fridges. All you four needed to manage was timing, and you overconfidently presumed that was a sure bet. None of you, it seemed, had factored in a shitfaced game of Cluedo.

“It was Mustard, in the Library, with the pipe,” Kino spoke into a highball glass, whisky half his lifeblood at present.

“You’re Mustard, you twat,” Mel smacked him in the head, crunching a handful of twiglets.

Ambessa had long since given up engaging, lent against the sofa with a grin as she met your gaze. As an only child you were not used to any kind of bickering over board games, making this confusing and tiring in equal measure. A sparkling, unknown cocktail sat in a gin glass in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, it contained over five shots of alcohol, hidden by sweet tea and cranberry juice. You may not have known, but by God could you feel it.

A thick smokey scent wafted towards you mid gulp and hazy eyes widened.

“The turkey!” You and Mel cried, scrambling to rescue a half scorched bird.

So, it wouldn’t be the juiciest Turkey Crown you’d ever eaten, but the rest of it was salvageable. Namely because you all camped out in the kitchen from that moment onward, checking every five minutes for slowly roasting carrots and stuffing on the off chance they burnt within seconds.

Candles of ivory and emerald glittered along the table as you took your place next to Mel. Your minorly fucked up feast had been served, your blood alcohol level begging for some kind of mass to soak up the metric tonne of vodka you’d ingested. It was good, great even, and yet you felt an odd emptiness. You hadn’t missed your Dad yet, and here it came, hurtling like a freight train into your roast dinner. Pushing peas around your plate like a petulant child, you munched at your inner cheek instead.

She shouldn’t care that you weren’t eating, you were an adult and could look after yourself. Didn’t stop her own chews from slowing to halt as she scanned you. Your mouth twitched, eyes pensive, she hated it. Her eyes managed to catch yours, echoing a question and a comfort in one, heart hammering as your shoulders visibly relaxed and you ate a potato. Good. That was good.

She seemed to smell weakness in you like a shark trailing blood, though she wielded this knowledge in a nicer way now. You felt an odd puncture, perhaps a lung giving out, as she grinned at you and ate a stuffing ball.

Mel was drawing noughts and crosses in her left over gravy, your fingers fighting an equal battle in which a stalemate was always reached. The game sort of became impossible to win if both participants were over five years old, but it made you smile all the same.

5pm rolled around, and with it your Dad’s phone call. It was brief, impersonal and hollow until you reached the news about the house. He knew, of course, as it was his fucking house but you blubbered excitedly all the same. He praised you for making good connections and you frowned. God he always had to be a knob. The call ended quickly after that and you wandered into the Cinema, flopping on Mel.

“Call go okay?” Her fingers stroked hair from your face.

“He’s a penis,”

“Bailey’s Hot chocolate?” She already had a large, reindeer covered mug to offer you, cream and marshmallows floating like little life rafts.

Perhaps this was the best Christmas of your life, and perhaps that filled you with a gaping despair unlike anything you’d ever known. Ambessa collapsed next to you and Mel, pulling you in close. Always there, mending and mutilating your soul.

“Well,” She kissed Mel’s crown, “How has the day been my little wolves?”

“Good, Mum,” A loud slurp, “Best in a long time,”

“Best I’ve ever had,” You admitted, uneasy and grateful.

Both Medarda women kissed your cheek, the tactical manoeuvre from both sides crushing you.

“Thanks by the way,” It felt like too little a sentence, brain blurred.

“You are most welcome, Dear,” Ambessa gave you more soft eyes and calm grins. What the fuck did Christmas do to her?

“Play a game of Uno?” Mel interjected, the food and fizz in her system making her fidgety.

“No more games,” You whined, “Game brain is dead,”

“What then?”

“Well, I say I want to watch the Polar Express,” She pulled a blanket over her knees, yelling for Kino.

“He’s out cold, food coma,” You muttered.

“Little shit, he avoids this film every year,”

“He doesn’t like Tom Hanks, Mum,”

“And that’s my problem, why?”

“Because you’re asking him to watch a film starring Tom Hanks?” You snipped obnoxiously.

Ambessa immediately withheld the Celebrations tin she had been offering, smacking your fingers to drop the Twix, “Sarcastic children don’t get mini chocolates,”

Mel munched happily on a Mars bar, your title of golden child stolen.

Christmas came to a close slowly, the day fluttering shut in time with your weary eyelids. Your room was piled with things, but only Tigger made it to your bed. His inquisitive eyes seemed to know exactly how you felt about his giver, and you had to shove his face into your shoulder.

“Shut up,” You slurred, to an inanimate object like a normal person, “I’ve got a good thing going here, she won’t ruin it,”

“Sure she won’t,” Tigger answered. Fuck, okay you were already asleep.

Boxing Day passed in a blur, as did the dateless, insignificant days that led to New Year’s Eve. The new, slippery dance continued. Mel watched your interactions with her mother less, shoulders settling slightly, though a sharpness remained when you weren’t looking.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and with it Another Bloody Party (shocker).

“How can you be surprised?” Mel muttered, tugging on your hair, “You said yourself this is all rich people do,”

“It’s different living it Babe,” You grumbled, “It’s exhausting, how do you manage?”

“Oh, well I-”

“Oh that’s right, none of you have jobs,”

The heat of the curling iron became intimately acquainted with your ear. Mel kissed it better, sarcastically, as she finished the curl. “I have a job,”

“Uh..no you don’t,”

“Well I will when uni’s over,” Mel muttered, “I’ll make a name for myself,”

“Is that name Medarda?” You really needed to stop antagonising the person holding the hot rod of metal to your skull.

One thing was different this time round and that was the host. The Kirammans hosted New Year’s annually apparently, the party larger than even Ambessa’s summer barbeque. Having not yet had the privilege of seeing a different large house, you experienced shock and awe anew. It was more regal than Ambessa’s home, ornate marbles mingling with old tiling. It felt sterner in a way, though its occupants were far from that. Like a scene in a film, limousines flooded in and out, showcasing tottering heels and tailored suits.

“Now,” Ambessa’s voice was a whispered grumble, “Best behaviour, I don’t want you lot embarrassing me,”

Your face contorted, as did theirs, “What?”

“I’m joking darlings,” She squeezed you all, “I don’t give a shit about these people,”

“Said that rather loud, Mum,�� Kino quipped.

“Intentional, sweet boy,”

Newness danced in every corner, Cait ready to grab you and shove her into every decorated crevice of her house. Cassandra Kiramman was far more blunt about keeping your group out of the way than Ambessa, gifting a whole wing of the house to your antics. There stood possibly every person aged 20-26 that Caitlyn had ever looked at in her life. Your inner circle were lounging, glittery and already a bit pissed, around a fucking conversation pit sofa. An actual, real inbuilt one. Nothing mattered for the two hours or so, cocktails and canapes shoved down you as you listened to Ekko explaining some physics thing that made you feel like an Egyptian having their brain removed.

A girl, tanned with glossy blonde hair, had been making eyes at you for the better part of an hour and you were beginning to crumble under the pressure. She was hot, sure, but she wasn't her. Though, another few glasses down, you realised that might be a good thing.

“Talk to her,” Viktor whispered, poking you in the side with his cane. Jayce showed his enthusiastic agreement through a scotch egg, making himself choke.

Your version of the heimlich manoeuvre was to smack him as Ekko did the actual heimlich, before swaying up to the pretty girl batting her lashes.

To say she was bored would have been the understatement of the century for Ambessa. Cassandra was less prone to recreational drugs and sordid corners, leaving her to discuss carpet swatches with Jayce’s mother. She was a kind woman, entirely not to Ambessa’s taste and the removal of the youngsters meant she couldn’t bother you. Or watch you from across every damn room you existed in. There wasn’t enough Moet to drown out the drivel and by quarter to eleven she was slinking away to find her drunk children.

Cadence, you had learned her name was, was an angel. Bubbly, bright and tipsy, she made for a fantastic conversation partner. It was lame to ponder how you hadn’t even considered anyone other than Ambessa romantically, so you let her touch your arm fondly and press herself into your side on the armchair. She studied psychology at Durham and would soon be going to America for a work placement. What’s the psychology of searching for your best friend’s mother in every crowded room, you wondered? She was talking your ear off when your eyes found the very woman in your mind.

Ambessa did not feel angry. It was a slight twinge, too much carbonation, a high pitched thrum against her sternum. What a pretty little blonde, all cosied close and eating up all your attention. How lovely for you. This is what parties were for, a fantastic meet cute to tell the grandkids. Shut up. Your face was relaxed, glossy lips parted in an easy smile. It wasn’t the same as the smile she caused of course, less genuine, less involuntary. She could tell, there wasn’t the slightest twitch to your cheek, and your posture was distant, eyes elsewhere. Eyes on..oh. Eyes on her. A slow wave, pulling her smile from you as you attempted poorly to split focus. You looked sinful, lent against a leather armchair with smooth, soft legs crossed. Images flashed through Ambessa, her head between your thighs as your nails gripped the leather for dear life or you curled in her lap rambling as she peppered your face with lipsticked kisses. A half hearted swallow, her mind a desperate tailspin of lust, jealousy and the unnamed other. Her hand rose slightly, golden eyes drilling into you as a hand began to subtly call you over.

Sharp, angry nails sliced into her wrist, killing the summons.

Mel stood, a sickly smile on her face, crushing her mother’s wrist.

“Hello, Dear,” Ambessa smiled, fighting the twitch of her brow, “Was coming looking for you little wolves,”

“Can you come to the loo with me,” Mel said, tipsy slur in her voice, “These heels are fucking my ankles,”

WIth a nod, taking most of her body weight, she wandered off to the bathroom with her daughter. It was dark blue, much like the kitchen and the library and the Kiramman child’s hair, causing a giggle from Ambessa.

Once the heavy metal lock clinked shut, she lent against the door with her eyes averted. Several beats passed with no noise save their breath.

“Are you going to piss or what child?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sadness, fury, resentment all rolled into one. Her beautiful hair was a halo for her anger, body a brick wall of frustration.

“Excuse me?” It was a scoff, muscled arms crossed, “Did I not help you here?”

“Why won’t you leave her alone, Mum,” Mel stood toe to toe with her, dark eyes blazing, “She’s listened and tried and is taking all the shit I give her, but you,”

A lecture was coming, stormy and vicious, one Ambessa may not survive. Here she thought it was girly toilet bonding time. No, you had interloped into another part of her life.

“You,” She repeated, “Continue on like she’s one of your little things, like I haven’t said anything at all,”

“I resent that,” Ambessa said, frown on her lips, “I’ve been civil and supportive, but distant just like you asked,”

“Distant in the way the iceberg was to the Titanic,” Mel snapped, swaying slightly. “Do you want to destroy her? Destroy me?”

“Mel, I-”

“I gave you rules for a reason, and you just don’t give a shit, do you?” Her hands were waving about wildly now, “You can’t bear being told no, respecting boundaries, listening to others,”

“I thought I was doing as you asked, Child,” Her words were thunderous, form shaking with a terror Mel could not see. She was too close for comfort, a dog sniffing a trail she did not want followed.

“Bullshit!” Mel’s thoughts were a slurry, a piece of the puzzle missing, “You gaze at her in every room, you touch her whenever you can, you steal any time with her you can get and-”

“That is enough,” Her lungs were beginning to ache, palms sweaty, “I do not need to be lectured by you again over insecure, inflated claims,”

“You don’t get to tell me to be quiet, Mother,” She spat, “Explain yours-” Oh. Oh. Everything stilled, the picture shifting till it clicked. She had all the pieces, of course she did, she’d just confused a middle piece for a harmless corner component.

Ambessa’s relief at her daughter’s sudden silence was crushed like a nut between a novelty nutcracker.

“You’re in love with her,” Check.

“I-” She had named it before even Ambessa could, damned insufferable child, always too clever for her own good, her resistance a very confirmation “How ridiculous,” And Mate.

Mel’s body shook with mirth, “You fell in love with my best friend,”

“You are drunk and far more stupid than I gave you credit for,”

“So what if I am drunk,” Her movements were looser now, “I’m right and You’re scared,”

“I don’t get scared,”

“I would have agreed, twenty minutes ago, but now?” Mel’s eyes met the minute tremor in her mother’s hands.

Ambessa’s hand grips the cold, golden lock, body turning away as she let out an angry grunt.

A repetition, cold and grounding, halted her “You fell in love with my best friend”

It felt so lovely to hear, to know, to feel. Awful to examine, gutting her like a prize salmon. This was the worst evening of Ambessa Medarda’s life. She was at odds here, pulled in terrible directions. The horrible, sordid truth was undeniable, complicating a messy story by adding an Act Three twist of predictable but no less epic proportions. Her daughter’s eyes were steady and stern despite her sway, any battle she put forward dissolving into sparks against Mel’s measured smile. Vulnerability was the only way forward, resistance gone, a mother’s love twisting her tongue towards painful truths, “I-I didn’t plan to, darling,”

It fell on deaf ears, “And she is in love with you right back,”

“Unfortunately,” Ambessa choked, body tight.

Mel sat precariously on the bathtub, pulling a miniature from between her boobs and downing it, “This simplifies things,”

“It does?”

A loud knock, and indistinct whining from behind the door.

“Fuck off, There are twenty two toilets in this house” Mel shouted, flicking the empty bottle into the tiny bin, before turning back to her, “And yes, yes it does,”

“Do enlighten me,” She snarked, wondering if she could magically summon tequila from her own chest.

“Love I can begrudgingly figure out, it matters,” Her teeth kissed her tongue, “But what do you offer her?”

“Sorry?” Words were precious currency to Ambessa at present, unable to grapple with the situation she had stumbled into.

“She makes you an infinitely better person, whilst assimilating to your lifestyle,” A heavy breath, “But you’re an older, emotionally impotent bitch with a history of ruining every romantic relationship you’ve ever been in,”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Are you hazing me in the Kiramman’s bathroom about my eligibility?”

“Yes,” Mel quipped, “Someone has to, if you’re going to start dating,”

“I never said I have any intention of doing such a thing,” Ambessa growled, “She’s over twenty years my junior, and your friend,”

A giggle, “You didn’t give a shit about either of those things when you were fucking her,”

“Well that’s,”

“Different, is it? Why?”

“This is ridiculous, I don’t have to listen to this,”

“You do, if you want to keep a relationship with me,”

“Are you going to lord that over my head for the rest of my life?” A crimson sneer deepened, “Isn’t it tiresome?”

“What’s tiresome is you being avoidant,” Mel glared at her, arms crossing, “Selfish? Manipulative? Common tools of the Medarda trade, but this cowardly denial is embarrassing,”

“I am not a coward,” It was a sudden burst, body rushing forward to meet hers.

“Prove it then, you idiot,” A nail stabbed into Ambessa’s chest, “Prove that it’s real, that you can offer her more than money and sex,”

“But why?” Her mouth was dry, “What’s your goal here?”

“I want to see you happy,” She sighed, level gaze eating Ambessa’s soul, “The woman before me is entirely new, better than I thought possible, if it takes encouraging this to keep her then I’ll write your damn love notes for you,”

“We are not having this conversation now,” Sense returned, sludgy and damp, dirtied by her emotions, “We will have it sober, at some point tomorrow,”

“You’re not pushing this away,” The nail dug deeper, “It’s now or never, tell me why I should let you date my best friend,”

Ambessa’s mind was a dark red blanket of rage and panic, hand crushing around her daughter’s wrist, “What do you want from me?”

“Say anything!”

“Like WHAT? Like I miss the weight of her on my chest as I sleep, the relief of knowing she’s safe,” She was shaking, a furious animal fighting against a certain fate, “Or th-that she makes me want to be the better version of myself that she sees, just to keep that smile on her stupid, soft fucking face,”

Mel’s hand moved upwards and reached out, a tender stroke on her mother’s cheek, “Perfect, Mum,”

With that it seemed she had deemed the interaction over, leaving her stunned and rabid as she slipped out of the blue room in search of Jayce, or Viktor, or most likely both.

You were struggling to socialise now, brain lagging against the alcohol and noise, longing for the quiet weed fuelled haze of the Medarda games room. Cadence had clocked your distant lack of interest before you did, wandering off and leaving you with a rambling Powder. Her and Ekko truly were a match made in heaven. It was nearly midnight and the party was so vibrant your eyes ached.

Time to hide, time to be anti-social. Nobody to kiss, nobody you wanted to anyway.

Confusing corridors, long and ornate, as you slipped under a secluded marble staircase. Deep, soothing breaths, the darker lighting a balm.

Ambessa found that splashing her face with cold water was doing absolutely nothing. A dam she could not rebuild had burst and it was merciless, yearning for one thing and one thing alone. You were a siren, sent to kill her, sent to punish her. You were an angel, her salvation. Uncertain steps stormed out of the room, wandering aimlessly towards the party.

The countdown, though far away now, was as audible as if Vi was screaming in your ear.

What an odd year to be seeing the back of, everything changed and everything the same.

Glitter coated your skin as you made your resolution, firm and sure.

You would move on from Ambessa Medarda, even if it killed you. She would not follow you into this new chapter.

You emptied your champagne glass, peace settling in you.

Ambessa flung the door open, hinges trembling, as she looked down the long corridor.

Countdown time already? How long had she spent in that fucking bathroom?

The fabric of her trousers swished as she slipped towards the staircase, seeking a darker solace.

A resolution, a stupid tradition, a propeller forward. She would tell you how she felt, even if it killed her.

Shocked eyes lock, room spinning, dark alcove shielding them from reality.

Time slows. A war fought valiantly, lost to the hazy fog. Clashing, hungry, yearning lips. Red on smooth gloss. Hair tugged, breath stolen.

Happy New Year!

#reader insert #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane #ambessa smut

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domm1etae · 4 months ago

Text

Hot Tub Revelations

welcome to domm1etae's kinktober day 5 : nipple play

san x f!reader

4.4k

When you and San sneak off to the hot tub for some steamy fun at the cabin, things heat up way more than expected

nsfw tags under

m/f, top top san, bottom reader, oral sex, dirty talk, teasing, pet names, hot tub, nipple play, public space, make out, handjob, fingering, kissing

Requests OPEN! - let me know through the ask button if you have any requests for this Kinktober

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“Hey, San, feel like joining me in the hot tub?” you called out, breaking the easy silence in the cozy living room of the cabin.

San paused, chopsticks in hand, hovering over a steaming plate of tteokbokki. His eyes flicked toward you, filled with mild curiosity, as if he wasn’t sure he heard you correctly. After a beat, he popped a rice cake into his mouth, chewing slowly as he contemplated your question.

“You’re serious?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Completely,” you shot back, flashing him a grin as you tugged your hoodie closer around yourself. “We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves on this trip, right? The hot tub is the best way to relax after being snowed in.”

San gave you a once-over, his lips twitching as he tried to hide a smile. “You do realize it’s, like, negative degrees out there, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously. That’s why the hot tub is perfect—it’s warm. Trust me, it’ll feel amazing.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed his plate aside. “You’re really set on this, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” You stretched your arms above your head, your muscles aching slightly from the long day spent hiking earlier with the rest of the guys. “Everyone else is passed out or playing games. Come on, San, when’s the next time we’ll get a cabin like this for two whole weeks? We might as well take advantage of the perks.”

San sighed, but you could tell from the way he was already standing up that he was going to give in. He glanced out the window, where thick snow was still falling, covering the surrounding forest in a heavy, white blanket.

“You really want to drag me out into this frozen wasteland?” he teased, running a hand through his hair. “You must have some ulterior motive.”

You smirked, pulling your hat down over your ears as you headed toward the door. “Maybe I do. Or maybe I just want to soak in a hot tub with a nice view.”

He snorted, grabbing a towel and following you reluctantly. “Fine, but I’m holding you to that promise to make me more tteokbokki later.”

“Deal!” you laughed as the two of you stepped outside into the frigid air. The cold hit you like a wall, biting at your exposed skin, but you hurried toward the hot tub, eager to escape into its warmth.

As you stripped down to your swimsuit and slipped into the water, a blissful sigh escaped your lips. The contrast between the cold night air and the hot bubbling water was heavenly, instantly melting away the tension in your muscles.

San took his time getting in, shivering as he peeled off his hoodie and jogged over to the tub. “You owe me big for this,” he muttered under his breath, his face scrunching up as he gingerly lowered himself into the steaming water.

“Stop complaining,” you teased, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “You’ll thank me once you warm up.”

He huffed, but you noticed the way his shoulders relaxed almost immediately, the heat of the water working its magic. “Alright, I admit it… this feels pretty damn good.”

“Told you so,” you said smugly, watching him settle across from you.

You both fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the gentle bubbling of the jets and the soft whistle of wind through the trees. The stars overhead were barely visible through the swirling snow, creating a serene winter wonderland around you.

“I can’t believe the guys are all missing out on this,” you mused, breaking the quiet.

San shrugged, his eyes half-closed as he sank deeper into the water. “They’ll probably wake up in a couple of hours and join us. We’ve still got another week of this trip left.”

“True.” You smiled at the thought of the rest of ATEEZ spread out inside the cabin, either asleep from exhaustion or still buzzing from the day’s adventures. It had been a last-minute idea to rent the place for two weeks of relaxation, a break from their usual busy schedules. So far, it had been perfect—just you, the snow-covered mountains, and the warmth of the fire in the evenings.

San opened one eye and glanced at you. “Still, I’m surprised you dragged me out here. You usually let me hide away with my snacks.”

You chuckled. “I needed company for this. And besides, I couldn’t let you miss out on the full cabin experience.”

“Full cabin experience, huh?” His lips curled into a playful smirk as his eyes roamed over your face, taking in your relaxed expression. “You mean soaking in a hot tub while snow falls around us? Yeah, that’s a pretty good experience.”

You shrugged, your own gaze drifting over him as he stretched his arms lazily along the edge of the tub. The way his muscles flexed under the water’s surface sent a shiver down your spine, and you quickly looked away before he noticed.

Unfortunately for you, he did.

“Something on your mind?” San asked, his voice lower now, teasing.

You tried to play it off. “Just thinking about how lucky we are to have this whole place to ourselves.”

“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t buying it, and the way his eyes narrowed on you sent a wave of heat that had nothing to do with the water. “Or maybe you were checking me out.”

You scoffed, splashing him lightly with water. “Oh, please.”

But his grin only widened, and in one swift motion, he reached across the tub, pulling you toward him so quickly you barely had time to react. Your body slid over his lap until you were straddling him in the water, the warmth between your bodies instantly making your heart race.

“San, what are you—”

He cut you off with a smirk, his hands resting on your hips as his dark eyes locked onto yours. “Just getting comfortable. You said something about enjoying the view, right?”

Your pulse quickened at the intensity in his gaze, and you found yourself unable to look away. “I—I was talking about the snow…”

“Sure you were,” he murmured, his hands tightening their grip on your hips as he pulled you closer, your faces inches apart now. “So, tell me… why do you keep looking at me like that?”

You swallowed hard, the air between you thick with tension. “I wasn’t… I mean—”

“Liar,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’ve been teasing me all day, and now here we are… just the two of us.”

Your breath hitched as his hands roamed over your sides, pulling you firmly against him. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Uh-huh.” His voice was a low rumble now, vibrating through you as his lips ghosted over your neck. “So what do you want, then? Because right now… I think I know what you’re after.”

Your mind was spinning, but the moment his lips brushed against your neck, all rational thought flew out the window. You had imagined this scenario—being this close to San, feeling his hands on you—for longer than you cared to admit. Now that it was happening, there was no turning back.

Instead of answering, you leaned in and captured his lips in a kiss, soft at first, testing the waters. But the second San responded, pulling you even closer, the kiss deepened, quickly turning into something heated, something hungry.

His hands roamed across your body under the water, caressing your hips, sliding up your back, while his lips moved against yours with raw, unrestrained passion. The warmth of the hot tub paled in comparison to the fire building between you as you both gave in to the desire that had been simmering for so long.

When he pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your ear, he murmured, “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

You nodded, your heart racing as his hands settled on your waist again. “Yeah… for a while.”

His eyes darkened with desire, and his voice dropped lower. “Good. So have I.”

San’s hands gripped your waist more firmly now, fingers pressing into your skin as though he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you. The warmth of the water and his touch combined, making it hard to tell where one sensation ended and the other began. His hands slowly trailed from your waist up to your ribs, thumbs brushing teasingly just under your breasts, but he didn’t move further yet—like he was savoring each moment, each reaction.

You let out a soft gasp, the anticipation building as his thumbs ghosted along the curve of your breasts, so close to touching where you wanted him most, but still holding back. The way his hands explored your body felt both careful and possessive, like he was claiming you in slow, deliberate movements.

When his mouth found yours again, it wasn’t tentative like the first kiss—it was all heat. His lips moved over yours with an intensity that made your heart race, pulling a soft moan from deep within your throat. He nipped at your lower lip, just enough to make your breath hitch, before soothing it with a slow, sensuous drag of his tongue.

Meanwhile, his hands continued their exploration. One hand slipped behind your back, pulling you even closer to him, the other dipping just below the surface of the water, tracing a line back down to your hips, then slipping around to grip your ass firmly. He pressed your body flush against his, the friction between your bodies under the water sending sparks of heat straight to your core.

You could feel the hard lines of his chest against your softer curves, the firm muscles of his thighs beneath you as you straddled him. Every shift, every subtle movement, heightened the awareness of your bodies pressed together, the tension building with every second.

San’s lips left yours, trailing wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck, each one making your skin tingle. He nipped lightly at your earlobe before whispering against your skin, “You like this, don’t you?”

You could only nod, your breath catching in your throat as his hands roamed again, this time venturing higher. His thumb grazed over your nipple through your swimsuit top, and the sensation was electric. You arched into him instinctively, a low whimper escaping your lips at the light touch.

“You’re so sensitive here,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost teasing. His thumb circled the stiffened peak, the wet fabric clinging to your skin, making the sensation more intense. He repeated the motion, this time applying a little more pressure, causing a rush of heat to shoot straight through you.

“San,” you breathed, your voice coming out in a needy whisper as he continued to tease your nipple with slow, deliberate strokes. He pinched it lightly between his fingers, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body that made your hips press harder against his. You could feel his growing arousal beneath you, hard and insistent, and it only fueled your own desire.

His other hand wasn’t idle, either. It moved down your body, skimming over your ribs, your waist, before settling on your thigh. His fingers gripped you there, squeezing lightly before sliding upward, dangerously close to where you ached for him most. He paused just at the edge of your swimsuit bottoms, teasing you, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, so close but not quite touching.

“San, please…” The words slipped out before you could stop them, your need for him evident in your voice. Every touch, every kiss had you on edge, your body desperate for more of him.

He let out a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “You want more?”

You nodded quickly, your hands clutching his shoulders as you fought to keep your breathing steady. “Yes… please.”

His response was a low, rumbling growl against your neck as his fingers finally slid beneath the thin fabric of your swimsuit bottoms. His touch was gentle at first, exploring, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you. But then his fingers found your clit, and the light, teasing circles he began to rub had your head falling back, a moan escaping your lips.

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and heat pooling deep in your core. His fingers moved with practiced ease, alternating between light, teasing strokes and firmer pressure that had your body responding in ways you couldn’t control. You rocked your hips against his hand, desperate for more friction, more of the intense pleasure he was giving you.

Meanwhile, his mouth had found its way back to your breasts. He tugged down the fabric of your swimsuit top with his teeth, exposing one of your nipples to the cool air before his warm mouth closed around it. The contrast between the hot tub’s heat, the cool air, and the warmth of his mouth on your sensitive skin was dizzying.

San’s tongue flicked over your nipple, and the sensation shot through you like a bolt of lightning. His mouth alternated between soft sucks and gentle bites, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. Every little movement sent more pleasure surging through you, your body aching for release.

His free hand, the one still working between your thighs, moved faster now, the circles on your clit becoming more insistent, more precise. Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his hand as the pressure inside you built higher and higher, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you completely.

You were lost in the sensation, every touch, every kiss driving you closer to the edge. The sound of San’s breathing, ragged and uneven against your skin, only fueled your desire. You could feel how much he wanted you, the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, but he was focused on you, on giving you exactly what you needed.

When his fingers slipped inside you, stretching you, filling you, a sharp gasp tore from your throat. The sensation of his fingers moving inside you, combined with the constant, steady pressure on your clit, was too much. Your body tensed, your muscles tightening as the wave of pleasure built, higher and higher, until it finally crashed over you.

You came hard, your entire body trembling as the orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless and clinging to San as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. His fingers didn’t stop, guiding you through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent, collapsing against his chest, your heart pounding in your chest.

San held you there, his hand still resting gently on your thigh as you came down from the high, his breath hot against your neck. You could feel his own need, the way his body trembled slightly under you, but he hadn’t asked for anything in return.

“You okay?” he murmured against your ear, his voice soft now, tender.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest as you leaned against him. “More than okay…”

He chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Good.”

San’s lips lingered on the top of your head, his hand resting possessively on your thigh, still gripping you lightly as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. The sound of the hot tub bubbling beneath you filled the air, mingling with the faint sounds of laughter and chatter from inside the cabin, a reminder that your friends were only a few feet away—completely unaware of the heated moment you and San had just shared.

The thought sent a rush of excitement through you, your pulse quickening as you realized how close you had come to being discovered. But instead of pulling away or feeling embarrassed, the thrill only heightened your desire for him. The way he had touched you, the way he had brought you to the brink of ecstasy with nothing more than his fingers and mouth, left you wanting more.

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling his hard length pressing against you through the thin fabric of his swim trunks. He hadn’t gotten his release yet, and you could feel the tension in his body as he tried to hold back, to give you space to recover.

But you didn’t want him to hold back. Not anymore.

With a teasing smile, you reached between your bodies, your hand trailing over his abs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch as you moved lower. San’s breath hitched when your hand finally brushed over the bulge in his trunks, and you could feel how badly he wanted you. The heat from his arousal matched the intensity you felt, and you knew he was just as desperate for more as you were.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, a warning, but his body betrayed him. His hips bucked slightly into your hand, the need in him too strong to hide.

You bit your lip, leaning forward to press a slow, deliberate kiss to the hollow of his throat. “What’s wrong, San?” you whispered against his skin, your lips brushing over his collarbone as your hand began to stroke him through the fabric. “You didn’t think I’d forget about you, did you?”

San let out a ragged breath, his hands tightening on your waist as you continued to tease him. His head fell back against the edge of the hot tub, his eyes closing as he tried to steady his breathing. “You’re gonna drive me crazy…” he muttered, but there was no real protest in his voice. If anything, he sounded like he was barely holding it together, each stroke of your hand sending him closer to the edge.

You smiled against his skin, loving the way he was unraveling under your touch. You wanted to make him feel just as good as he had made you feel, to give him the same kind of pleasure he had given you. And you weren’t going to stop until he was completely undone.

Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his swim trunks, finally wrapping around his hard length. The moment you touched him, San let out a deep, guttural groan, his hips lifting off the seat as if his body couldn’t help but chase the sensation. He was thick and heavy in your hand, the heat of him pulsing against your palm as you began to stroke him slowly, savoring every reaction.

“Fuck… Y/N…” San’s voice was hoarse, his breathing labored as you continued to pump your hand along his length. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you tighter against him as he struggled to keep himself from completely losing control.

But you didn’t want him to hold back. You wanted him wild, unrestrained.

Your thumb brushed over the tip of his cock, slick with precum, and you spread it over his length as you quickened your pace, your hand working him with slow, deliberate strokes that had his body trembling beneath you. His moans grew louder, more desperate, and the way his hips moved in time with your hand told you he was close.

But you weren’t done with him yet.

You leaned forward again, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss as your free hand slid up his chest, your fingers trailing over his pecs before finding one of his nipples. You pinched it lightly, rolling it between your fingers, and San let out a sharp gasp against your mouth, his body jerking in response to the unexpected stimulation.

“Y/N…” He was barely holding on now, his voice rough and strained as his hips bucked into your hand with more urgency. “I’m not… I’m not gonna last if you keep…”

But that was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to see him lose control, to watch him come undone beneath your touch.

Your lips left his, trailing hot kisses down his neck, over his chest, until your mouth found his other nipple. You sucked it into your mouth, your tongue flicking over the sensitive bud as your hand continued to work his cock in firm, steady strokes.

San’s reaction was immediate. His head fell back against the tub, a deep moan escaping his lips as his hands clutched at your waist, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back. But it was no use. You could feel the way his cock twitched in your hand, the way his breathing grew more ragged with each passing second.

He was so close.

“Y/N… fuck… I’m gonna…” His voice was strained, barely a whisper as his hips jerked uncontrollably beneath you.

You didn’t stop. You didn’t let up for even a second. Your hand moved faster, squeezing him just right, your lips and tongue working his nipple with a relentless intensity that had him teetering on the edge.

And then, with a broken moan that was half your name, half a desperate plea, San finally came.

You felt the hot rush of his release spill over your hand, his body convulsing beneath you as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you close as he rode out his orgasm, his entire body trembling with the intensity of it.

You didn’t stop touching him, didn’t stop kissing him, guiding him through it just as he had done for you. You loved the way he looked in that moment—completely undone, vulnerable, and utterly yours.

When it was over, San collapsed back against the tub, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. You leaned forward, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his lips, your hand still resting lightly on his chest as you smiled down at him.

He opened his eyes, staring up at you with a dazed, satisfied grin. “You’re… unbelievable,” he murmured, his voice still thick with exhaustion and pleasure.

You grinned back, giving him a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

For a few moments, the two of you simply sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the warm water of the hot tub swirling around you. It felt peaceful, intimate, like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you.

But the sound of laughter and footsteps from inside the cabin quickly reminded you that you weren’t alone. You both turned toward the door, where you could hear the others moving about, probably getting ready to head outside again.

San chuckled softly, pulling you closer. “We should probably head back in before someone notices we’ve been gone too long.”

You both hurried out of the hot tub, the cool air hitting your wet skin and sending a shiver through you. San helped you tug the cover back over the tub, your fingers fumbling a little from the cold. Once everything was back in place, you quickly grabbed your towels and wrapped them around yourselves, laughing as you stumbled toward the cabin.

Thankfully, the door wasn’t locked, and you slipped back inside the warmth, your body still tingling from the heated moments with San. You thought you had made a clean escape—until you walked into the common area.

There, sprawled across the couches and chairs, were the rest of the ATEEZ members, mid-game of Solitaire. They all turned to look at you and San as you entered, dripping wet and shivering like a pair of soaked rats. You were definitely worse off, your hair still damp and sticking to your neck, while San’s was mostly dry.

Yeosang was the first to speak, his eyebrows raised as he looked between the two of you. “Looks like you had fun.”

You glanced at San, whose lips quirked up in a guilty smile. Before either of you could respond, Wooyoung groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch cushions. “Great, now I don’t want to go in the hot tub anymore.”

Hongjoong, who had been shuffling through the deck of cards, let out an exasperated sigh. “You guys contaminated the tub already? We’ve only been here for one day.”

Seonghwa, ever the calm one, simply shrugged. “Just means we need to clean it before we get in. No big deal.”

“I’m never getting in that thing,” Jongho muttered, folding his arms over his chest with a look of disgust. “You two better be the ones cleaning it.”

Mingi, however, burst out laughing. “Doing it in the hot tub, huh? That’s gotta be a bucket list thing.” He winked, clearly enjoying your flustered expressions.

You pulled your towel tighter around your body, cheeks flushed, not just from the cold. San, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the attention. “What can I say? It’s a good spot,” he teased, earning a round of groans and playful jeers from the others.

“Come on, San, at least try to be subtle,” Yunho chuckled, though there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he dealt the next round of cards.

“You should both go get changed before you catch a cold,” Seonghwa suggested kindly, giving you an understanding smile.

“Yeah, and come back for a game,” Hongjoong added. “I could use another victim—I mean, player.”

You and San exchanged amused looks before quickly scurrying off to your rooms, eager to change out of your wet clothes. As you reached your door, San stopped you with a playful grin, leaning closer so only you could hear. “Wanna meet up later? My room?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, pretending to consider his offer. “Not very subtle, San.”

He shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I could be even less subtle.”

Before you could respond, you heard a voice from down the hall. “I hope you’re not planning anything scandalous tonight. We’ve got plans to play a drinking game later.” It was Wooyoung, smirking at the two of you from the hallway.

San groaned, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ll see,” you teased before slipping inside your room to change, eager to get back to the others—and perhaps more excited about what might come later.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. The night was still young, and with two weeks left at the cabin, there was no telling what else was in store for you and San. But one thing was for sure—you wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.

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wonderlandwalker · 1 year ago

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Cherished Moments | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick is trying to get you to relax and, well, it works maybe a bit too much.

Content Warnings/Tags: Mostly fluff, small injury, lovesick Finnick, grumpy!reader x sunshine!Finnick, insinuations of violence, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.2k

Requested by Anon: I love your writing!!! What do you think a grumpy reader × sunshine finnick would be like? Love the back cat gf golden retriever bf trope haha and I feel like finnick would be obsessed with someone who was mean to everyone BUT him! Feel free to ignore if you don't feel inspired, I'll read everything you write anyway!!

A/N: Can someone pls let me know if they actually manage to find the request after I've posted them I have no clue if these are getting through. Ngl this one was a struggle for me but once I found the right idea it came pouring out. Do they even have darts in the Hunger Games universe? Well, they do now. Keep sending me requests I genuinely love doing them!!

“Come on, I know you can do it! I’ve seen you throw knives, this is pretty much the same thing, only smaller.” Finnick was trying to encourage you, but you weren’t easy to win over.

“I’m telling you, I can’t. This is just different. The darts are so much smaller and lighter, it throws me off balance.” You were at a party in District 13, well, calling it a party would be generous.

“Just try. I’ll help you come on. I promise it’ll be fun.” He couldn't hide his smile at your antics, but he also knew if anyone was able to convince you, it was him.

“Fine, but if something goes wrong it's on you.” You looked him in the eyes, and could see a spark of light inside them, and you wouldn't admit it, not with all the other people in the room, but it warmed your heart a little.

“It’ll be fine, what’s the worst that could happen” He asked you, and you almost scoffed at the question.

“I could hit someone, and then everyone will hate me even more than they already do”

“They don't hate you, they just don't know you the way I do.” Whenever someone would ask him what he saw in you, he would always be dumbfounded. Sure, you had a hard exterior, but when someone has gone through as much in their life as you did, were you really to blame? No, he didn't understand the question, because, to him, you were perfect. Whether you were sulking at breakfast for having to leave the bed or smiling at him because they were serving your favourite dish for dinner, he would take anything you gave him.

“Are you telling me that you, the victor of the 70th Hunger Games, are afraid of hurting someone with a tiny dart?” He was challenging you, and it was working.

“I'm not afraid, I just don't want anything to go wrong.” The way your voice softened around him made his heart beat faster for you and sometimes, he swore you knew and were doing it on purpose.

“You won’t, just throw it straight into the board.”

Finnick is standing behind you, grinning like he’s just won some sort of lottery while he guides your arm up for you, you can feel his breath on your neck before he whispers “Come on love, do it for me.” You’ve never been able to deny him, to your own annoyance at times, so you do as he says.

The dart flies through the air, and it doesn't hit the board, but it comes relatively close. So you throw a second dart and it hits the board, but you don’t manage to score any points just yet. As you throw another one, it manages to hit the board, but only for a little while before it falls to the floor. You throw your hands up in defeat before saying “See, told you I couldn't do it.” But Finnick hasn't given up, in you, he would never give up.

“That’s nonsense, you just have to try again, be patient.” He walks over to collect your darts and hands them back to you. He steps behind you again, guiding you into the right position before speaking.

“Just close your eyes, imagine you’re throwing them at Snow.” It makes you laugh and he can feel your muscles relax. He would always feel so proud of himself when he made you laugh, he didn't mind that you don't do it often, it would only feel like so much more of an achievement.

You do as he says, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath right before you throw the dart, hitting it right in the bullseye. You throw another, hitting the bullseye again. But you miss the board with the next one when Finnick leaves a small kiss on your shoulder, and your breath hitches. You can feel his body moving from behind you, and focus to throw another dart. It’s only when you hear an exclamation of pain coming from right in front of you that you snap open your eyes, you would recognize it anywhere. In front of you was Finnick, standing right next to the board with one of his hands clutched in the other, and when you take a closer look, you can see the dart that is stuck in the back of Finnick's hand.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry are you okay.” He would never tell you this, but he doesn't even mind that it happened, seeing you being sweet on him so openly, it makes him forget anything even happened in the first place.

“I'm fine sweetheart.” there is a strain in his voice, and he knows you can hear it too from the way your brows furrow in regret. You knew he wasn't trying to be tough for you, no, you had moved past that years ago. he was trying to not make you worry, it was something he would always do no matter how much pain he was in. But you were worried, because in contrast to all those other times, this time it was your fault that he was hurt. It never phased you much when someone would get shot, it never phased you much as you heard the canons each night in the arena signalling another death, not in the way it phased other people, but this, this broke you.

“Finnick you are not fine, there is a fucking dart inside your hand and it's my fault.”

“Well, most people don’t throw a fourth dart sweetheart." He says, and he chuckles a little, but you don't hear it in your state of worry.

“I am so sorry I-” You were choking up over your guilt, and while he loved getting to see your raw emotions, this one he didn't enjoy.

“Hey, no, I'm sorry too, don't get yourself worked up over this. It's just a dart, I will be fine. Why don’t you go get me a first aid kit?” He really was fine, and he could have gotten it himself, but he knew how much you would get in your own head when you didn't have anything to do in these kinds of situations.

Once you come back and help patch him up, he looks up at you and you catch his gaze. A smile crosses his face in a way he knows his cheeks are going to hurt.

“Why are you smiling” you ask, confused at his glee in a situation like this.

“Because I know you care about me. You don’t always show it, and you don’t have to, because moments like these I’ll cherish forever.” His eyes are sparkling as he looks into yours, he swears he could just stand here and look at you for the rest of his life.

“Oh, would you shut up already” you tell him while swatting his hand away from your face and rolling your eyes.

“You can’t tell me to shut up, you threw a dart into my hand.” He’s still grinning like an idiot, and it's infecting you. One of the corners of your mouth lifts up, and it's subtle, but he catches it, how could he not with how intently he is watching you. You’re back to your old dynamic, but he loves it just as much.

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luvismenu · 2 months ago

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STARBOY — JJK ,, 05 universe ✎ ,, index

warnings: just them bantering and idk, fluff? (jungkook trying to be romantic ekjwkwja)

note: yay finally!! i will update more often now dw guys (not an empty promise) only 5 more chaps!

“___! can i take a break now? i think everything’s fine.”

you glance around the room, groups of students chatter excitedly, some jittery with nerves as they await the start of the contest, while others treat the event like a casual hangout, their laughter echoing too loudly in the room.

turning back to elena, you let out a sigh. “just a few more minutes, vice. can you help me get everyone to settle down? you’ll get your break once the contest ends and we’re waiting for the results, yeah?”

she looks momentarily disappointed, her shoulders slumping slightly, but she nods.

you offer her a small, reassuring smile. “thank you for sticking with me through all of this. it’ll be over soon, i promise.”

her expression softens at your words, and she gives you a faint smile before heading off to manage the crowd. you take a moment to breathe, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the long day ahead.

that’s when you notice kim namjoon weaving his way through the throng of students, his tall frame making him hard to miss.

“looks like you’ve got everything under control,” he says as he approaches

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i wouldn’t say that. it’s more like controlled chaos.”

namjoon smiles. “that’s still impressive. pulling off an event like this isn’t easy, but you seem to have it handled.”

“well, i have all of you to thank for a lot of it,” you admit, glancing towards the vice as she speaks to a group of students. “and honestly, i’m just praying everything goes smoothly once the contest starts.”

“it will,” namjoon assures you, his voice steady. “you’ve planned everything down to the last detail. plus, the turnout’s great. everyone’s excited.”

“that’s what worries me,” you joke, half serious. “the more people, the more chances for something to go wrong.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “classic class president mindset. always prepared for the worst.”

“someone has to be,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “what about you? are you just here to observe, or are you part of the contest?”

“observe,” he says with a shrug. “i wanted to see how this plays out. it’s not every day the english majors get this much attention.”

“true,” you agree, scanning the room briefly before turning back to him. “but i thought someone like you would’ve joined. you’re always talking about writing.”

“i prefer writing stories for myself,” he admits, his expression thoughtful. “contests like these are great, but they’re not really my thing. i like watching people shine in their own way.”

his words are sincere, and for a moment, you find yourself appreciating his perspective. “that’s... nice. i hope the participants feel the same way and don’t faint from all the nerves.”

“they’ll do fine,” he says with confidence, glancing at the other students. “but you should probably take your own advice and relax a bit. you’re doing great.”

you scoff lightly but nod. “i’ll relax when this is all over.”

“fair enough,” namjoon replies with a knowing smile. “good luck, ___. not that you need it.”

“thanks,” you say, watching as he turns to blend back into the crowd.

you wonder where jungkook is.

not that you care, of course.

he was one of the people who helped the student council a lot with the event, so it’s only polite to thank him. nothing more, nothing less.

pulling out your phone, you scroll through the messages he sent earlier.

starboy: should i wear a suit?

you: it’s a contest, not the met gala.

starboy: says the girl who’s defo trying to outshine me

you: i don’t need to try :)

starboy: wow u're so humble 🙄

you: confident, maybe

starboy: r u looking forward to seeing me

you: only because you told me you're participating. nothing more.

starboy: sure. keep telling yourself that, stargirl. i know you wanna see me so bad ;)

you: wtv helps you sleep at night, starboy.

you shake your head, fighting back a small grin that threatens to creep onto your lips. he always had this way of getting under your skin, whether you wanted him to or not.

deciding to refocus, you make your way over to the vice. but to your surprise, she isn’t standing alone.

elena is talking to someone, her hands gesturing wildly, a small laugh escaping her lips. it takes you a second to realize who’s standing there with her, but the sight makes you stop in your tracks.

jungkook.

of course, he’d show up now, looking every bit like he belonged in a spotlight. he’s dressed in a crisp black suit that, while simple, fits him too perfectly to be considered anything but deliberate.

he catches your gaze almost immediately, a smug grin curling at the corner of his lips as if he knew you’d been wondering where he was.

“prez,” he says smoothly, breaking away from elena to walk towards you.

“oh no, they’re gonna argue again,” one of elena’s friends whispers, leaning closer to her.

“let’s hope not,” elena mutters nervously, her eyes fixed on you and jungkook.

“you look... stressed.” jungkook points out.

“and you look overdressed,” you shoot back, crossing your arms as you try not to let his presence throw you off.

“i call it setting the bar high,” he quips, standing in front of you now. “wouldn’t want to disappoint, you know.” he shoots a glance to a group of girls who are already eyeing him like he's the main event.

you roll your eyes, “and i thought you were here for the writing contest, not competing for bestdressed.”

“why can’t it be both?” he shrugs, the grin never leaving his face.

you shake your head. “you’re late, starboy.”

“perfection takes time,” he replies with a casual shrug.

“is perfection in the room with us?” you raise a brow, and he pretends to look offended for a moment.

“my goodness, prez,” he says dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded.

you chuckle despite yourself, and he smiles.

“thanks for helping out, jungkook,” you say, your tone softening just a little. he looks genuinely surprised for a second before his face turns smug.

“oh?” his brows lift playfully. “am i high or did you just thank me?”

“don’t make me take it back,” you warn.

he lets out a small laugh, the sound warm. “don’t mention it. after all, i am the best,” he says, leaning back as if basking in imaginary applause.

your smile immediately fades. “you’re so full of yourself.”

as you follow jungkook to the registration desk, you notice how the girls in the corner giggle louder when he walks by. he tilts his head slightly in their direction, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“you’re enjoying this too much,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

“what can i say? people appreciate greatness.” he shrugs, feigning modesty.

“greatness? please. you’re just tall and have nice hair. it’s not that deep.”

“you think my hair is nice?” his smirk widens, and you immediately regret your choice of words.

“focus, starboy,” you snap, pointing to the line of participants. “you’re here to submit your entry, not to boost your already inflated ego.”

“don't worry about me stargirl, i can multitask.” he flashes a grin and steps forward to sign in.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were participating?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“surprise, surprise,” he says in a sing-song tone, not even glancing back.

you hum thoughtfully, narrowing your eyes at his back. “i don’t know if i’m more annoyed that you didn’t tell me or impressed that you kept a secret for once.”

“i’m full of surprises, prez,” he replies, finally turning around. “are you perhaps curious about what i wrote?"

“curious isn’t the word i’d use,” you deadpan.

as the two of you walk away from the desk, you glance at his entry form, trying to peek without being obvious. but he notices immediately.

“curious isn't the word i'd use.” he mocks you, holding the form just out of your reach.

“i was just checking if you spelled your name right.” you roll your eyes yet again.

“i’ll have you know, it’s going to win.” he says.

“oh, it’s definitely going to win something,” you say with a smirk. “most mediocre attempt, maybe.”

“keep talking,” he laughs, “but when my name is announced as the winner, i want you in the front row, clapping louder than anyone.”

“i am not a seal, you know,”

the banter continues as you both head towards the seating area, your playful digs turning heads as others watch the dynamic between the class president and the self proclaimed starboy.

the chatter in the room quiets down as the head of the event steps forward, holding a small glass bowl filled with folded slips of paper. “to kick off the contest,” she announces, her voice echoing slightly in the room, “we’ll randomly select one of our participants to read their submission aloud.”

a murmur spreads through the crowd. your eyes flick to jungkook, who leans back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be unbothered. but the way his posture stiffens as the name is drawn doesn’t escape you.

“jeon jungkook.”

you swear you see his confidence falter for just a split second, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he quickly recovers

“well, well,” you say, unable to resist a jab. “didn’t think the universe would humble you this quickly.”

“humble me?” he scoffs, standing up and dusting off his pants as if preparing for a performance. “please. this is nothing.”

the crowd shifts, a few participants nudging him towards the makeshift stage at the front. he lets out a dramatic sigh, walking forward with a nonchalance that feels just a little too forced.

“don’t trip,” you call out, earning a few chuckles from the students around you.

jungkook turns just enough to throw a glance your way, his eyes glinting. “enjoy the show, prez.”

as he steps up to the mic, the room falls into an expectant hush, the silence settling over everyone. jungkook takes his entry, he scans the words, his expression unreadable, before finally beginning to read.

“the story,” he starts, his voice steady yet soft, the kind that makes everyone lean in just a little closer. “it’s about… how one person can change everything, even if they don’t know it.”

he takes a pause, eyes scanning the room briefly before settling somewhere in the distance, as though he’s speaking to a ghost only he can see.

“she’s not like the sun, burning too bright for anyone to hold,” he begins, his voice growing quieter, more deliberate. “she’s more like the moon.. steady, always there even when you can’t see her. the kind of light that keeps you grounded on the darkest nights.”

you hear a few soft sighs from the crowd, and you can’t tell if they’re swooning or genuinely moved. you shift in your seat.

“she’s… not perfect,” he continues, a small, fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “but that’s what makes her real. she’s messy, stubborn, maybe even a little mean—” there’s a flicker of amusement in his tone, “—but somehow, she’s still the most beautiful thing i’ve ever known.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know why. it’s just words, you tell yourself. just another story for the contest. but the way he says them makes your stomach twist.

“she doesn’t know,” jungkook says, quieter now, almost like a confession. “she doesn’t know how much space she takes up in my universe. how, even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart, she stays constant. the one thing i never want to lose.”

the silence in the room is deafening. you can feel your heart thudding against your ribs.

his voice is steady, but there’s an undercurrent of vulnerability that catches you off guard. the story he weaves is vivid and poetic, describing a brilliant, infuriating force of nature who constantly challenges and inspires him.

“she’s impossible to ignore,” he says, his eyes scanning the room but never quite meeting yours. “like a star in the night sky, guiding but distant, always just out of reach.”

his eyes finally meet yours.

“she's my universe.”

your heart stutters.

is this about—

the applause is immediate, loud and thunderous. jungkook gives a small bow, his usual smirk creeping back into place as he steps down from the stage. but for a split second, as he glances your way, you think you catch something else in his expression; something raw, something different.

“woah,” elena whispers beside you, nudging your arm. “that was… something.”

“yeah,” you murmur, but your voice sounds far away, your mind still caught on his words. “definitely something..”

note: took me a while becuz I AM NOT POETIC— 😓 but anyway lol do u guys think he could win? 🫢

📜 series taglist: @rrosiitas

📜 permanent taglist: @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097

#jeon jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #fluff #fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts fanfiction #bts smau #jungkook smau #jungkook frenemies

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jjtheresidentbaby · 11 months ago

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Hi! I just saw that you’re doing obx fix’s now and I’m so happy! I was wondering if you could do one with cg!Rafe Cameron and a little!reader, where the reader stayed up all night playing and they are very sleepy. If you can, could you make it very cute and fluffy?

It’s totally fine if you can’t write it!

Btw, I love your fics!

˚. ❝₊˚ 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 ❞ ˚₊·

» rafe cameron x reader

» a/n: ah sorry this got a tad angsty, i swear i can’t write rafe without it turning angst *stares at all my wips with him*

» warnings: slight angst, rafe being insecure, pet names

“Here you go sweetheart.” Rafe smiles as he slides a plate of pancakes over to you from the other side of the island in the tannyhill kitchen. You rub at your eyes and nod in thanks, still tired from not going to bed when you were supposed to last night but waking up at your normal time.

“You okay?” There’s already a furrow of worry in Rafe’s brow, his voice soft but concerned in full. It’s always been easy to tell when Rafe gets worried about you, his go-to emotion with anyone else is anger but with you it’s different, you get his vulnerable side.

“I’m tired.” You huff and stare at the cut up pancakes on your plate, feeling slightly guilty for not eating them when Rafe had spent the morning cooking for you.

“I guess you did go to bed pretty late last night, you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to.” Rafe assures and plucks the plate from its place in front of you, slipping it into the fridge and instead pulling out a reusable bottle of water he keeps on hand for you. You don’t know when the bottle got bought or what prompted Rafe to get you your own bottle instead of just grabbing one from the cabinets, but you won’t ask, there’s no need to, the fact that he did it is more than enough.

“Do you wanna go lay on the couch? We can watch a movie, have a chill day.” Despite how nonchalant Rafe is trying to sound, you can tell he’s studying your every move to see if something else is wrong or if he’s the one doing something wrong.

He’s been hesitant about taking care of you in certain ways, always checking to make sure that you’re okay, second guessing things under his own anxiety that he’s messed it up, trying to do things perfectly in fear of you leaving and finding a new caregiver because he slipped up. It’ll never be the case and you’ve told Rafe both when little and big that you don’t care if things are perfect, you just want him, in any way shape or form. You think in the past few months he’s been getting better at accepting what you say as truth, but times like this you can see the insecurities poking through.

“Yeah, movie.” Once you have the bottle of water securely in your hands, Rafe comes to scoop you onto his hip. You happily take the physical contact and lean your cheek onto his chest, breathing in his familiar pine scented cologne and snuggling against the soft sleep shirt he still has on.

“The normal?” He asks and sits down on the couch without putting you down, content to hold you throughout the movie- and if he’s being honest it’ll be easier to put you down on a bed if you fall asleep this way, avoids the risk of waking you up by picking you up.

“Yeah.” Your favorite movie is already queued up on the Tv, as it has been since the second week of Rafe stepping in as your caregiver, it’s a small detail but it always makes you smile.

“You can go to sleep, little one.” His hand reaches to lay on the back of your head, thumb rubbing back and forth against your hair as you nod along.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to slip shut and for Rafe to pull a blanket from the back of the couch around your shoulders. You can feel how he relaxes against the back of the couch once you’ve sunk farther into his chest, finally accepting that being tired really was the only issue. You find it fascinating how expressive Rafe’s body language can be without him knowing, how much him being calm makes you calm, how your body naturally leans into his when you know he needs it and that he subconsciously does the same. It’s a comfort you don’t find with other people, you cherish it with Rafe even if it is just the two of you falling asleep on the couch for an afternoon.

#jj writes #outer banks agere #little!reader #caregiver!rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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happybird16 · 8 months ago

Text

Levi can't swim. You doubt the man has never been in a body of water deeper than a bathtub. Never really had the opportunity to, given where and how he grew up. Just getting him to admit the gap in his skill set was like pulling teeth. You aren't sure if it was out of embarrassment or just a reluctance to talk about himself.

You offer to teach him at the small lake near the base, a serene and secluded spot, a hidden bit of paradise known only to a handful of scouts. Assuring him multiple times that no one will be there to watch, you see his reluctance soften ever so slightly. The tightness in his shoulders loosens ever so slightly. He tells you no about a hundred times over the course of several weeks before eventually giving in, dragging his feet a bit as you lead him towards the lake. It's a miserably hot day, you wonder if that was part of his decision to finally give in.

The walk there is filled with Levi's characteristic grumbling, though you catch the occasional flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Excitement simmering in those steely blues, deep beneath his usual flat glare. The path is lush with greenery, the sound of rustling leaves and distant bird calls creating a tranquil atmosphere. When you finally arrive, the lake is as peaceful as ever, its glassy surface reflecting the vibrant hues of the surrounding foliage.

Levi manages to maintain his usual calm demeanor up until the two of you are standing in your underwear on the edge of the lake. His expression remains stoic, but you notice his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. You take his hand, squeezing it reassuringly as you step into the cool water. The moment his feet sink into the lake, his eyes go wide, and his grip on your hand becomes almost painfully tight. “It’s just water,” you say softly, trying to soothe him.

“Water teeming with fish shit,” he grumbles low in response, eyeing the darkness before him.

You laugh, the sound causing Levi to twist his head from glaring at the water to meet your gaze. Tugging his hand, you nod towards the lake, “Come on. It’ll be fine.”

Levi’s jaw is clenched, and you can see the effort it takes for him to loosen his hold on your hand, even slightly. “Easy for you to say,” he mutters, his voice betraying the tension he feels. Not afraid, per se, but deeply unsettled. Out of his comfort zone, that's for sure.

You guide him slowly, step by step, further into the water. Each movement is cautious, Levi's eyes darting around as if expecting some unseen danger to emerge from the depths. Despite his apprehension, he trusts you enough to follow, his breath coming in shallow, controlled bursts.

"You're doing great," you encourage, leading him until the water reaches his waist. "Just focus on me." Levi nods, his attention fixed on your face.

You teach him to float first, supporting him with gentle hands under his back. His body is rigid at first, but gradually he begins to relax, trusting the water to hold him up. His eyes remain locked on yours, seeking assurance. After several minutes, you start to show him basic strokes, keeping your movements slow and deliberate. Levi's progress is hesitant but determined, his brow furrowed in concentration. You praise every small achievement, every awkward paddle that keeps him afloat.

Time passes, and eventually, Levi manages to swim a short distance on his own. The triumph in his eyes is unmistakable, and you can't help but smile at his accomplishment. "See? Not so bad," you say, treading water beside him.

He gives you a rare, genuine smile in return. "Maybe not," he admits, though there's still a hint of his usual gruffness in his tone. He's close, still clinging loosely on you despite it no longer being necessary. The casual brush of his arm against yours makes your heart throb. "But don't think this means I'm doing this regularly."

#trying to get my writing shoes back on #levi ackerman #levi x reader

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penkura · 8 months ago

Text

In My Heart

Note: I know I literally just did Penguin calming down his child yesterday but Law doing the same took over my mind, I'm so sorry I just had to do this today. I really hope you all enjoy this!

Your son Rosinante was an easy baby, he was quiet and would sleep quickly, his first full night of sleep happened only a month after he'd been born. You and Law could calm him down instantly when he started to fuss and cry, and that was nearly six years ago, he’s still easy to calm down when he’s upset, all you have to do is gently speak to him and he’s perfectly fine.

Your daughter Cora, however, was not as easy to calm down. She takes much more attention and time to quiet when she starts to cry, even Rosi trying to help her relax, though he keeps his hands over his ears as she wails when she’s upset. He’s happy to have a baby sister, but he never though she’d be so loud.

One night when Cora is six months old, she’s been inconsolable for hours, she’s been in pain more recently from teething, keeping all of you awake until well past one in the morning from her crying. Rosi has taken to having you hold him while he keeps his ears covered and eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, as Law holds and gently bounces Cora, though it does nothing to alleviate her wailing, even when he moves her up to his shoulder, she still grips his shirt and cries.

Law brings Cora over to your bed with him, sitting beside you and watching Rosi hide his face in your sleep shirt, eyes shut tight while you stroke his hair and try to shush your daughter yourself. You start to hum and rub her back gently which causes her wailing to quiet just a bit and gives Law an idea on how to calm her and get Rosi to sleep too.

“Here, I’ve got an idea,” Law sets his free hand on your shoulder briefly before putting it on Cora’s back, clearing his throat a bit which causes you to perk up and smile, “Come stop your crying, it’ll be all right. Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

While Law sings and Cora starts to settle, Rosi uncovers his ears, opening his eyes just a bit to watch his father and sister. You kiss the top of your son’s head, causing him to wrap his arms around your neck and lay his head on your chest, finally getting the quiet he needs to sleep too while you lean your head on Law’s shoulder.

“Cause you’ll be in my heart. Yes, you’ll be in my heart. From this day on, now and forever more.”

It’s been a while since you’ve heard Law sing, he’s normally shy about it even around you, but he’d started doing it more when Rosi was a baby, and now realizes he’d had the answer to calming down Cora from the start. She slowly settles completely, staring up him for a few minutes before her little eyes close and breaths even out, finally falling asleep and forgetting why she was even crying in the first place.

By the time he finishes the song, Law notices all three of you have fallen asleep, you still holding Rosi while leaning against him and Cora has slightly loosened her grip on his shirt. It makes Law smile as he leans back against the headboard of your bed, closing his eyes to try and sleep as well. To know the three of you are so comfortable around him, that you’re his own little family and you all feel more than safe enough to sleep easily, Law’s not sure he ever expected such things to happen, or to become a reality after everything he’d been through.

He knows his family would have loved you, that they and Corazon would’ve been absolutely in love with your children too. You’ve told him they’d all be so happy to see how he’s grown up, everything he’s built on his own, and now with you.

He's sure his family and Corazon are proud of what he’s become.

#one piece x reader #reader insert #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #fem!reader #op men as dads #law would get over his shyness and sing for his babies fight me

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bridgyrose · 5 months ago

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Weiss assumes everyone has ridden a horse/pony before... only to find that the only person who doesn't fall off in the first five minutes is Jaune.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun,” Weiss said as she walked her friends over to the corral with a smile on her face. “This is going to be a nice and relaxing day to take our minds off finals.”

“And how, exactly, is horseback riding relaxing?” Yang asked.

Weiss stopped at the gate and looked back at her friends. “Why wouldnt it be relaxing?”

“Because its an animal that can potentially break our necks?” Jaune asked more than he said. “I dont know if this is a good idea.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” Weiss opened the gate and took the reins of one of the horses. “Its easy enough to ride them and these horses have been trained to let people on them. Plus, there’s ranch hands at the ready in case anything spooks the horses. Everything about this today is going to be safe.”

Nora walked over to one of the horses. “If Weiss says its easy, how hard could it be?”

Weiss nodded and watched as Nora got up onto the horse… and then slipped off when she couldnt get her footing in the stirrups. With a heavy sigh, she walked over and helped Nora get steady before taking a few steps to let Nora try to get the horse moving. Then, she watched as the others tried their hands. Blake seemed to get up the easiest, but couldnt seem to stay steady once the horse started moving. Ren and Pyrrha struggled with getting up onto it, Pyrrha worried about hurting it and Ren unable to keep his balance. Even Ruby and Yang, the two she would’ve expected to ride a horse easily, struggled to get onto their horses correctly or even to stay on while the horses were moving.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, this is going to be harder than I thought…”

“Not our faults that we’ve never ridden a horse before,” Ruby said as she held her horse by the neck to keep stable. “Some of us have only watched it in shows or movies.”

“It shouldnt be *that* hard to ride a horse.”

“Its not, but sometimes it takes a bit for people to really learn how to do it,” Jaune said.

Weiss looked over at him, expecting for him to be falling off, only to be surprised to see that he seemed to be the only one of her friends that was capable of riding a horse. Even as he brought the horse to a quick trot, he seemed to hold on fine and almost professionally as he kept himself up right and gentle with the horse. “Where… where did you learn to ride like that?”

Jaune brought the horse to a stop next to Pyrrha and got off to help her up. “My parents had a friend who owned horses and would ask us to help take care of them. Riding lessons were put up as payment, so my sisters and I all learned how to ride a horse.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Weiss watched her team continue to struggle with their own horses and started to make her way towards them. “You want to help your team while I help mine?”

Jaune nodded. “Sure thing.”

Weiss paused for a moment as she watched Jaune make his horse trot over to Nora. It was almost too easy to envision him as a knight from the romance novels she read, a blush crossing her cheeks when she thought about it. If he were to bulk up and get a set of armor that fit him-

“W-Weiss!” Ruby called out from hanging under her horse. “A-a little help?”

Weiss shook her head as she was pulled out of her own thoughts and started to make her way over. “How did you do that?”

“I tried to get on and I dont think I set the saddle on quite right.”

“Its not that hard. Just drop to the ground and we’ll set it right.”

“I dont think I-” Ruby winced as she dropped on the ground. “Nevermind!”

Weiss pinched the bridge of her and took a deep breath. “This will be a relaxing day… as soon as I teach them how to stay on their horses correctly.”

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #drabbles

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thebest-medicine · 7 months ago

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could you do 16 “Come on, stop it - I’m serious, that really tickles!” with lee!dipper and ler!stan or ford🩷🩷

Prompt 16 - "Come on, stop it - I'm serious, that really tickles!"

A/N: yessssssssss gravity falls!!!!!!!!

…

“We just need to take a few measurements and I get you a nice anti-magic jumpsuit made! It’ll only take a few days. Come on, hop up!” Ford explained excitedly as he gestured for Dipper to take a step up on the stool in his lab.

“Ok. Great! Thanks Grunkle Ford!” Dipper stepped up, reaching his arms straight out to his sides and waiting.

Wrists and ankles were quick and easy. Dipper startled a bit when Ford touched his leg to measure his inseam. When the tape started at his wrist and then wound up under his armpit, he jumped with a startled giggle. “S-sorry!”

“You alright kid?”

“Fine! Fine.” Dipper assured him. Ford raised an eyebrow but kept up the measuring.

Ford looped the tape around Dipper’s waist and he sucked in a breath, stomach tensing.

“Relax, it needs to be a good fit! don’t suck in!” Ford poked at Dipper’s belly.

A nervous peal of laughter spouted from Dipper’s lips as he teetered backwards, saved by the measuring tape around his middle. “ACK-!”

Ford chuckled, going back to his measuring. A few spots hedged close to being a little ticklish, but Dipper kept it together. Soon, it seemed he had been measured head to toe, and he prepared to step down.

“Oh, shoot.” Ford frowned.

“What is it?”

“I forgot to write the measurements down.. I’ll have to do them again.” Ford shook his head, keeping the little quirk up of his lip out of view of his nephew.

Dipper shrank back a bit, tensing up again as he suddenly prepared to be accidentally tickled a few more times. He held his breath as Ford measured from wrist to underarm. This time, he fumbled the end of it a few times, pressing it into the hollow under his arm, and Dipper squeaked out a laugh despite his efforts not to.

“Ahaha- Grunkle Fohohord! Come on!” Dipper protested. “Yoohohohou’ve got it! Stop it- that really tickles!” He snickered as Ford ‘finished’ his measurement there and jotted it down on the notepad next to them.

“I’m almost done, Dipper!”

“I’m seheheherious! AHH!” Dipper squealed as Ford pinched his hips while wrapping the measuring tape around them. “It tihihickles!”

“I know, kid.” Grunkle Ford winked. “Almost done, almost done!”

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further gravity falls drabbles on ao3]

#summer sentence starters 2024 #tickle fic prompts #gravity falls tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!dipper #lee!dipper #tickling #mine #drabbles #my fic #fluff #ler!grunkle stan #dipper pines #gravity falls #gf #disney #ler!grunkle ford #my fics #my drabbles

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writeforfandoms · 2 years ago

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Born for Greatness bonus 3

Okay I ended up adding a chapter because this is a gift for a friend

Find the series masterlist

It's that time of the month and the cramps are awful. The pack fusses.

Warnings: Lil bit of panic from the boys, emotional whiplash, emotional instability, cramping, Feelings.

Word count: 1.6k

John was the first to find you curled up on the couch, hugging a heat pad to your abdomen, face twisted in pain.

“Love?” He crouched in front of you, hands on your knees, trying to make eye contact. “What’s wrong?”

“Just cramps,” you grit out, trying to breathe slowly. They were bad this month, worse than normal. Much worse.

Some of his concern cleared, and he lifted one hand to brush your forehead. “Had any painkillers?”

“An hour ago.” You closed your eyes at the tiny bit of relief he brought just by being there.

“Not helping?” He murmured sympathetically.

“Not yet.” You clenched your jaw tight and stopped breathing at another sharp ripple of pain.

“Here, move forward a bit, love.” John stood and circled around behind you, gently nudging you forward until he had free access to your lower back. He started massaging slowly, taking his time. Just the pressure of those big warm hands on your skin helped, the cramps easing in their intensity.

“What’s going on?” Gaz asked sharply, more intense than usual. “Who’s hurt?”

You jumped at the unexpected intrusion and then hissed softly. Oh ouch.

“At ease,” John grumbled, hands briefly detouring to squeeze your shoulders. “Alright, love?”

“Good enough,” you muttered. “It’s fine, it’ll pass.”

“Not soon enough.” John huffed softly and resumed massaging your back.

Gaz put things together quickly, because he was smart. He also dropped down in front of you, frowning with concern. “Want some tea?”

You smiled, small and tight, trying to hide your pain again. Despite the fact that you knew it was far too late for that. “Only if it’s no trouble.”

“Not for you.” He stood again and started working on tea. (You’d known getting an electric kettle for the pack room was a good idea, and mentally congratulated past-you.)

You breathed out slowly, the cramps lessening as John continued massaging your lower back and hips. “Not that I want you to leave,” you started slowly, pausing to grimace at another clench of pain, “but don’t you have to go do Captain-y things?”

John huffed softly in amusement, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll worry about it later,” he rumbled. “Don’t fret, love.”

“Don’t fret, he says to the person whose job it is to fret,” you muttered, grinning to yourself when you saw Gaz’s shoulders jump with a stifled laugh.

“Here.” Gaz held out the tea to you, hovering even after you’d taken it. Clearly he was unwilling to leave just yet.

“Thanks.” You took a sip. Perfect.

“Cap?” Soap called from down the hall, footsteps approaching fast.

“In here,” John said, speaking normally. “Everything’s fine.”

About three seconds later, Soap stopped next to the couch, looking between the three of you. He blinked and then muttered a little “oh”.

“Soap,” you started before he could say anything. “I love you but if you say anything I might deck you.”

“Rog.” He grinned, opting instead to plop down next to you and cuddle into your side. You relaxed a little, the heat of him and John and the heat pack all working to ease the cramps to something more manageable.

Relief had you going near-limp, leaning back (and not even apologizing as you trapped John’s hands) with a little sigh. “Finally,” you grumbled, eyes sliding closed.

“Hungry, love?” John didn’t try to free himself yet, just moved a bit to be more comfortable.

You made a face, shaking your head. “Definitely not.”

John hummed acknowledgement, glancing down at where Soap was still cuddled up against you. “Gonna take it easy today?”

“I think if I try anything otherwise, I won’t get very far,” you admitted with a sigh.

“Good.” He pressed another kiss to the top of your head before he pulled his arms free. “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m sure.” You tipped your head back further to smile at him. “That helped.”

John nodded once, though you could see he was thinking about something. His gaze went from you to Soap to Gaz (still hovering by the minifridge) back to you.

You decided to save him the trouble. “Yes, I know you have to work. Yes, one of them can stay with me. No, I have no preference which. No, I will not shout at anyone.” You paused. “Probably.” You paused again. “At least I will do my very best not to.”

John looked very briefly chagrined but then smoothed out his expression and nodded. “Good,” he murmured. “I’ll check in for lunch, how’s that?”

“That’s fine,” you agreed, ignoring the looks Soap and Gaz sent each other. “No setting your paperwork on fire.”

John heaved the biggest sigh known to man and turned around, but not before you saw his lips twitch in a grin. “That was once,” he grumbled on his way out.

“Drink your tea,” Gaz said, making his way over to the two of you. “Gotta go deal with recruits.”

“Don’t scare them too much,” you joked, grinning up at him.

He rolled his eyes but still leaned down to rub his cheek against the top of your head. And ruffle Soap’s mohawk playfully, dodging out of the way and leaving with a cackle while Soap swore at him.

“Movie time?” Soap asked after he’d settled back down again, having somehow managed to contort himself so he was half-curled around you.

“Mmhm.” You picked up the remote, flipping through options.

You two managed a fairly peaceful couple hours. Soap got a little antsy, which didn’t surprise you. He wasn’t used to being inactive, especially first thing.

“You can go for a run,” you murmured to him after you finished the first movie. “I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head a little. “‘S fine,” he murmured, even as he fidgeted.

“Seriously. Go.” You nudged him. “I think I’m gonna go get a book, anyway.”

He wavered until you stood, leaving your now-cool heat pack on the couch. “Ye sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, flapping your hands in a shooing motion. “Go. Get some energy out.”

He nodded and left, and you hummed as you went back to your room to retrieve your book and your meds. Because you were definitely not skipping a dose today.

The couple hours of quiet reading time to yourself helped, as did more meds. As promised, John brought lunch to you, and the two of you had a quiet meal.

You tried very hard to tamp down your fraying temper. You even managed it.

Until the afternoon.

You breathed in deep, pain once again battering you, temper entirely too short, energy levels too low to do something like climb up on the roof.

“Gaz,” you started, closing your eyes. “You do not need to hover.”

He paused, in the middle of hovering. And took a step back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You grimaced when that came out too short. “It’s not you, I’m just…” You trailed off, not sure how to put it into words. The general discomfort, the pain, the short temper because of everything else.

“Got it.” To his credit, Gaz just nodded once, stepping away to flip on the kettle again before pulling out his phone. You sighed softly, frustrated with yourself on top of everything else now.

But Gaz didn’t seem to be upset. He brought you tea a few minutes later, checked his phone one more time, nodded to himself, and smiled at you. “One of us’ll bring you dinner, yeah? Text if you need anything.”

And then he left quietly.

You were so relieved you could almost cry, and so disgusted with yourself for being so relieved that you did cry, just a little bit. You were a terrible person.

But you had silence and the pack room to yourself for a little while. Which was great, up until it wasn’t. You ended up hunched over yourself, feeling terrible, trying to push the heat pack into your skin until it almost burned.

A soft chuff pulled your head up and you squinted at the cheetah in front of you. “Ghost? You need something?”

He chuffed again and nudged your arm with his nose. When you just blinked at him, confused, he chuffed a third time and shoved his head under your chest, physically pushing you. You let him and eventually got the hint, laying flat on the couch.

He promptly hopped up and draped himself across you. His purr rumbled pleasantly against your skin, the vibration far more soothing for your cramps than you would have guessed. Within minutes, you were completely relaxed under him, moving only to push a pillow under your head. He continued purring, louder now.

You didn’t stand a chance against that.

You woke slowly, groggy and disoriented, to John leaning over you with a little smile. “How’re you feelin’, love?” He kept his voice quiet.

You blinked a few times. “Groggy,” you muttered. “Better. Doesn’t hurt.” You started to stretch and quickly realized you couldn’t, because you still had a cheetah on you.

“You want dinner?”

You made a face. “Not hungry,” you grumbled, wiggling one hand free to scratch through Ghost’s little ruff of fur. His purring got louder, which you hadn’t thought possible.

“Alright.” John leaned down enough to kiss you, soft and sweet, before he turned the TV on low, settling next to you. You hummed softly, content, your fingers curling lazily in Ghost’s fur.

You had no idea when you fell asleep, but you woke up to John snoring softly, leaned back on the couch with his hat over his face and Ghost still laying on you as a cheetah. A quick look showed Gaz and Soap, both shifted, laying near John’s feet.

You smiled and closed your eyes again. Couldn’t hurt to get a little more sleep.

#born for greatness #shifter au #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

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aidemint · 2 years ago

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To Break A Habit | Routine Doesn’t Get You Kisses Like These

Summary: You kinda-actually find out he wasn’t joking about the spider stuff. Okay. But you’re totally cool about it. Totally.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Hobie Brown/GN!Reader

Notes: 5 minutes of screentime and i’ve already wrote more about this guy in a week than i usually write about anything in three months jesus christ

Masterpost | AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3

“40081’s got this hoodoo shit goin’ on.” Hobie sighs as he makes his way down the main hall of Spider-HQ, recounting his mission discoveries from days prior. “Some sort of bad luck spell that’s making the world lose its plot.”

Gwen paces beside him, listening intently. “Sinister Six behind it?” she asks with a frown. “Or do you think it’s something else?”

“Not certain,” Hobie responds with a shrug. “But I’m close to catching the anomaly. Things should reset once it’s out of the fabric.”

“Hope it gets resolved soon.” Gwen sucks in a breath from between her teeth. “Miguel’s not looking too happy these days.”

Oddly enough, the mission so far had been almost deceptively easy—three days into the operation Hobie had already located and shut down a multitude of energy pockets emanating from certain parts of the city. A variant of Mysterio or Osborn was bound to show up soon, as the sites were likely siphoning vitality from the dimension. Now he just needed to gather intel about the effects of the magic while playing the waiting game. Luckily for him, he has a direct source.

“Relax Gwendy, it’ll be fine. I even got in touch with one of the locals for—” Hobie starts assuredly, turning to address his drummer, but pauses and swivels around when she’s noticeably no longer keeping up with his stride.

“You what?” Gwen stands frozen in the middle of the walkway, eyes blown as large as dinner plates with her mouth slightly ajar. She readjusts herself with a shake of her head, though her hands and shoulders remain raised and stiff. “Hobie, please tell me you’re not getting to know a civilian. ”

“Then I won’t tell you that I’m ‘getting to know’ a civilian.” A roll of his shoulder and he’s back walking, half-lidded eyes peering at Gwen when she inevitably joins again, bobbing and weaving through a downcurrent flow of Peter Parkers. “And I won’t tell you that it’s strictly for information about the mission.” A coy smile tugs the edges of Hobie’s lips upward. “Probably.”

Gwen looks just about ready to explode at the last quip. “You just told me— Oh my God, you know that, out of everything, is against protocol. Very against protocol,” she hisses, her voice lowering as her lip curls and she leans further into the privacy of only each others’ company. “What will you do when Miguel finds out?”

“You gotta live freely past the propaganda, Gwendy,” Hobie replies nonchalantly, patting a palm on her shoulder as a point of reassurance. “Just think about it.”

The best Gwen can offer him is a wary glance and a moment of hesitation, but he takes it with a grin anyhow. He’s certain she’ll eventually come around—the extent of their friendship isn’t something so miniscule that a few words of indoctrination would ever be enough to turn her.

It’s a nice notion to have, but he unfortunately doesn’t get much time to dwell on it—suddenly, his watch buzzes with an alert.

Hobie checks the device. “Someone’s ringing me, gotta bounce.” A few taps of an orange screen and a twist of a dial, then a portal opens up just shy of his left arm. “Been fun, Gwendy. Don’t blame me if I come back late.”

No matter how hard she rolls her eyes, Gwen can’t help but give into the smile that creeps onto her lips. “Stay safe, loser,” she responds, bumping her fist against his.

“Safe is practically my middle name.” With that, Hobie ducks into the gateway, and disappears.

How the fuck do you accuse someone of having spider powers without sounding like you’ve gone insane? Since morning you’ve been stuck in a cycle of decision-making for a seemingly hopeless situation. You thought the hard part was over after seeing the guy in the costume swing away on white silly string, but the mostly sleepless night and brainstorming the resolution to be had was another beast altogether. What doesn’t help much either is the fact your favorite pair of jeans are now stained to shit because an idiot thought it would be a good idea to trickshot a half-full Starbucks drink into a trashcan you were standing right next to.

Oh, New York, how it surprises you each day. You swear you’ve never had bad luck like this in your life—and now you’re twenty minutes late, punching in your timecard and hurrying to tie on an apron.

Even through your shift the anxiety doesn’t go away, despite how you try to ignore it. Nervous energy bleeds into your work, shaking hands spilling and dropping drinks; your preoccupied mind is nowhere near as focused as you need to be for the rush—you remake a drink three times in a row before being on the receiving end of a tired lecture from an angry customer.

“Something on your mind?” one of your coworkers ends up asking after most of the crowd has dissipated. “Or just tired?”

You’re on the verge of bursting into tears actually, but you manage to stifle it with a deep breath in. “A lot of both,” you mumble in response. You can’t tell her about Hobie, and it’d be too winding to describe the entirety of everything. She’s pretty good at giving looks of pity and she’s already shot you one following the complaining customer. Honestly another one is the last thing you want to deal with right now. “Maybe I should’ve just skipped work today.”

“Don’t worry, we all have bad days,” she offers with a consoling pat on the arm. “How about you just calm down for a bit and take your break? I’ll make you your favorite drink and get a bowl started for you.”

The gesture does ease your nerves, even if only by a little. You sigh, shoulders slumping, and give your coworker a grateful smile. Parting ways then, she returns to her station to honor her word and you make your way to the back to punch in the start of your break.

Exhaustion starts to seep in when you catch yourself staring blankly at the time card machine, watching the hands of the clock tick away second by second. There hasn’t been significant progress in terms of settling the whole “Hobie Brown is a superhero” dilemma, you realize, just a lot of pain and aching on your part. Maybe it’s time to put the matter to rest just for a brief half an hour—you’ll pick it up later. There isn’t even a guarantee Hobie will show up to the shop anyhow.

Yeah, you have time.

The chunk sound of the punch machine brings you back to your senses and you put away your slip before making your way back to the front of the house.

“Drink’s ready and bowl’s on the way. You can enjoy that while you wait,” your coworker chirps, sliding a cup to you when you emerge from the back. You’re just about to voice your thanks before she cuts in again, gesturing to a spot just beyond the counter. “Oh, and someone asked for you. He’s right over there.”

Your eye is already twitching before you even look. But you suppose you hate yourself and the world at this point, because you slowly turn to where her hand points regardless and find the one man you just made a pact with yourself to not think about.

Hobie greets you by name and gives you a friendly wave. Out of courtesy, you force yourself to return in, lips pressed together in a tight smile with the short extension of your hand.

“Heard it was your break,” he says, approaching the glass panel between the two of you. “Mind if I intrude?”

Yes! you scream internally. Yes I do mind very much!

“No, it’s alright,” you end up saying to him, staving off a growing impulse to whack yourself upside the head.

“Sick,” is all Hobie replies with before he retreats to a nearby table. “I’ll be waiting here—don’t rush yourself.”

It’s right about now that you’re wishing he wasn’t so nice and you didn’t like him so much so that this process of confrontation would go about smoother. Your gaze lingers on him and you bite in the inside of your cheek as you think about the validity of what you witnessed yesterday.

The option to not tell him and maintain your chances of still potentially becoming friends like normal exists. Dodging the awry reputation that comes with the manic conspiracy theorist persona is always good. You’ll get over it one day, right? Leave the suspicions behind and assume that the image was just a hallucination brought about by stress; convince yourself that Hobie Brown is just your average British punk-rocker.

But you can’t fight the feeling in your gut, how it burns, and suddenly you’re leaning over the counter, over the glass.

This is a bad idea. “Hobie,” you call in his direction.

He looks up. “Yeah?”

Shit, this is a bad idea. “I have something to tell you.”

“Wah’gawn?”

“It’s… I think it’s a matter best told in just our own company.” You look around apprehensively, a slight crease in your brow. “Mind going somewhere more private?”

Trying your best to ignore the suggestive look your coworker shoots at you from your peripheral, you beckon Hobie to come into the back. Walking through the kitchen, you usher him into the storage pantry and shut the door behind you when you join him.

“I’m guessing we’re not just here to kotch?” Hobie teases with the sideways tilt of his head.

“Unfortunately.” Your gaze lowers to the ground at the admission, fingers finding one another and squeezing. “Been thinking about something for a while.”

Hobie lets the change in the air stew until it thickens before responding. “Ready when you are.” His voice is softer, malleable, lost of all its previous playfulness and replaced with a certain kind of sincerity.

The slightest incline of your chin brings your stare back to him. You wish it served the simple purpose of just admiring the slopes and angles of his face, but your lips part and your curled hand trembles, and it all reminds you of the gnawing insecurity.

“I need you to tell me the truth.” You say it slowly, sincerely, keeping your voice as steady as you can despite the way your heart rate thunders. “Please.”

In your supplication, you aren’t certain how to appraise the extent of your desperation, but Hobie’s gaze does not leave yours. He nods wordlessly, a glint of something in his eye and it looks a lot like deference.

You take it as permission to continue. “When you brought up Parker”—you swallow thickly—“you were talking about something real, weren’t you?”

A beat of silence. There isn’t any external reaction from Hobie, standing as still as he had the moment he stopped in front of you, face lax and hands tucked away in his pockets.

“Ain’t got a Scooby-Doo what you’re talking about,” he says plainly, unfaltering in every word. Even then he doesn’t move, fortress-like in his disposition.

Perhaps he truly doesn’t know what you mean, you think. The chance is present, albeit slim, though present nonetheless—and how tightly you clutch this sliver of hope. But for a moment, in your hesitancy and under Hobie’s untelling stare, doubt creeps in—your palms grow clammy against the material of your pants, sweat assisting the glide of your fingers against one another. Your eyes search those of the man in front of you, wishing his look could change so you could find the courage to ground yourself.

What if you’re wrong? What if it’s all a fallacy, some trick of the light? New York is no stranger to oddities but even this seems too extreme. Coincidental talk of Spider-People leading to an impossible accusation. Fucking Spider-People don’t—shouldn’t—exist. The idea grows more absurd the longer you question it. Peter Parker got the short end of the stick, if there was even a long end in the first place, so what the hell are you doing?

But what if you’re right?

A breath rattles through you. “Hobie.” With a new waver in your voice and a tremble to your hands, you stand unsure of how your conviction bleeds through what you say but you try anyhow. “I know you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I saw a masked man walking on the side of a building yesterday.” The admission comes quickly, riddled with cracks, but you’re entirely too focused on the followup to care. “After the conversation we had about Spider-People, after the whole thing about superheroes, tell me that it wasn’t you up there. Because I saw your— your fucking pins and I’ve never— God, I don’t even know! I’ve never seen something like this.”

Your fists clench, fingers digging crescent-shaped craters into the flesh of your palms. The marks bite, angry red and stinging—perhaps aching even more the absence of Hobie’s response, the seconds you give him to reply.

“Who are you?” Dry—your throat is so dry. Your voice can’t be anything above a whisper with how hoarse the question comes, flaking away with every shallow breath you take.

Silence blankets the both of you then, soundless space a limbo between comfort and unease. Unsure of what to do with it, what to make of the situation you stand in now, you let it hang listlessly, drawing upon an empty room and an even emptier conversation.

It takes a handful of moments for Hobie to even look like he’s processed all that you’ve said. Under your scrutiny, the smallest movement of his eye is the only discernible change to the testament. Whatever goes on inside his head is a complete mystery to you for the few minutes that elapse before he speaks.

Finally, he shifts in his stance. “You want me to just come out with it, yeah?” he asks, not sounding terribly happy, but not as nonplussed as you expected. He sighs when you nod slowly. “Alright. I’ll start from the top, then.”

He tells you his name is still in fact Hobie Brown, and he was bitten by a radioactive spider three years ago. Formerly a runway model, though not a role model, he’s been protecting the streets of his hometown against the PM. When he’s not playing shows, antagonizing fascists, or staging unpermitted political “action-slash-performance art pieces,” he’s out partying with his friends.

“And don’t call me a hero,” he ends with a frown. “Hate the label. Calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologizing, narcissistic autocrat.”

When he stops, you have both hands to your temples, pressing down hard. You can deal with his anti-authority spiel just fine—some part of you even agrees with the sentiment—but there is so much to unpack prior to the statement.

“So you— you have actual spider powers? Oh my God?” you sputter, eyes blown wide in an expression of surprise you’re sure looks exaggeratedly dreadful. “What even— that’s— what even are spider powers?”

“Dunno really.” Hobie gives a shrug. “Enhanced hearing, speed, vision, and sticking to walls are the main perks. Also links up to my—”

“Can you shoot webs out of your butt?” you blurt in a sudden horrible realization.

There’s a few seconds of tense silence before Hobie bursts into laughter, arms crossed around his torso to hold himself, shoulders bunched to his ears. The ring of his joy through the air lifts a weight from it and suddenly the atmosphere doesn’t feel as crushing as before.

Witnessing his state, it doesn’t take long for unease to fade away and for you to start softly chuckling with him.

“You’re so jokes,” Hobie cackles, a hand over his eyes as he leans back. A long, shuddering breath tears through him in his attempt to calm down. “But to answer your question, no I can’t shoot webs out of my arse.”

“Thank God,” you breathe, clutching your heart. “Wouldn’t have looked at you the same if you said you could.”

“I don’t think I can look at you the same after you just asked that.”

“Hey, in my defense it was just to get to know you better.”

“I’m sure that’s all it was.” Hobie gives you a pointed look, but is quick to smile after. “Speaking of which, I came in to ask you something as well.”

“Oh?” You blink. The sudden shift in conversation is unprecedented, taking you slightly by surprise, but suspicion is quick to replace your wonderment when you notice a change in Hobie’s features. A squint narrows your eyes. “What are you plotting?”

“Nothing, it’s just I have an excuse now that you know me better.” He pauses briefly, staring at you for a moment. “I wanted to ask if I could know you a little better.”

Your lips purse in confusion at the phrase, forehead pinching. “But you already know me?” you ask, brow raised. “Don’t tell me you forgot everything already.”

“I didn’t,” Hobie reassures gently. “I was just thinking instead of talking over a counter we could do it over dinner? Maybe a movie, if you have the time?”

A beat passes and suddenly realization sets in, drawing all the air out of you. The smallest groan escapes you as you bury your face in your palms, the skin of your neck and cheeks burning hot. Every inch of you seems more sensitive in your mortification—were you always this close to Hobie, and was his cologne always that strong?

“I’m an idiot,” you whisper from between the gap in your hands. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

Hobie supplies a soft chuckle to ease your embarrassment. “You’re not. It came out pretty corny anyways.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting asked out by a guy with spider powers.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

You groan again, a tight breath pressed against your fingers. “You are so lucky you’re cute, Hobie Brown.”

It is as endearing as it is exasperating that you can practically hear how big his smile is. “You free tomorrow?”

“Anytime past five,” you reply softly, slowly inching your hands away from your face to peer at him. “Where should I meet you?”

Hobie’s grin tilts sideways at the query, a new sparkle of mischief brightening his eye. “I’ll come pick you up.”

Dates aren’t exactly a new concept to you—you’ve been on a handful, and they all go about the same. The first time, someone shows up with flowers or a small gift to start the evening right, then you’re whisked away for three hours to some place to hang around and have fun. It’s conventional, it’s safe—sometimes you enjoy the company more than the actual activity, leading to a second or third outing, but there’s nothing too special about the dance you do with routine.

Along this line of reasoning, Hobie crash-landing on your balcony with one of the most ridiculous offers of transportation isn’t exactly the way you imagined your date would start.

“You are not web-swinging me to Manhattan,” you tell him, still inside your apartment, arms crossed and shaking your head vigorously. “I don’t care what you have set up, I’m not gonna risk going splat on the damn concrete.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Hobie pushes playfully. “Promise I won’t drop you.”

You frown, brows furrowing and lips pursing as you glare at him. He returns the look as calm as ever, a slight smile edging the corners of his mouth and stance open in invitation. The way he holds himself has uncertainty creeping to you, forcing out your fervent disagreement in favor of consideration in a rather slick way of persuasion.

Perhaps you should’ve known you wouldn’t win, with the sheer difference in your demeanors. Your staredown continues for a couple of minutes before you sigh, breaking eye contact with a reluctant drop of your chin and a gentle moan of diffidence.

“Can I at least close my eyes?” you mumble, walking out and shutting the balcony door behind you.

“You can do whatever you want,” Hobie replies, sliding on his mask and gloves. “Just hold on tight.”

Stifling a breath when his arm wraps around the small of your back and under your thighs, you cling to his shoulders as he lifts you up and climbs on the railing.

“You ready?” His chest rumbles under your touch when he speaks, and you can only give a small nod in your position, heart pounding against your ribs and face buried deep in the nape of his neck.

Hobie laughs—a deep, warm sound—and then launches off your balcony.

There are no words to truly describe the feeling that swallows you while in freefall. Wind blasts past your ears in violent howls, gravity pulls your figure down but your insides up, and the only thing you have to ground yourself is the feel of Hobie as you clutch him with every bit of strength you possess. Adrenaline thrums through every vein, lighting your nerves on fire and prickling your skin with gooseflesh; even your energy to scream depletes into fueling the rush that floods your senses.

Upon the first pull up, Hobie’s web catching a surface to swing from, your gut lurches and a serrated gasp shudders through you. Your arms pull you impossibly closer to him, fingers clawing to dig deeper into the back of his vest.

“Easy now,” he chuckles, sounding miles away with how loud your heart beats in your ears. “I promised I wasn’t gonna drop you, didn’t I?”

“D-Doesn’t make it better,” you gasp, shivering now that the breeze whips against your back.

“Try to relax—we’ll be there soon.” Though he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, it proves contrary to the way his grip tightens around you with the next swing.

Despite how comforting the gesture is, you find that you can’t relax much while still flying through New York a hundred feet in the air.

After what seems like days of travel, Hobie finally lands on solid ground, giving you a moment to catch your breath before setting you down gently. His arms are threaded underneath yours as you try to balance on shaky legs, knees bent and feeling all too much like jelly for your own comfort.

“I feel like a newborn deer,” you sigh, voice trembling from the withdrawal of adrenaline. Jitters quiver your fingers, lightly chatter your teeth, and shake the thin chamber of your chest. “My God, how do you even get used to this?”

“Gotta learn to trust yourself,” Hobie hums smoothly. “First time’s always a tad tricky.”

You only nod, gaze now pinned to the ground as he gradually guides you forward, step by step, until you’re stable enough to slowly walk on your own. From there, the slightest incline of your head brings your attention to a small spread of food and flowers laid out nicely on a patterned blanket. A warmth comes to settle in your core at the sight, softening your eyes and easing the tenseness in your limbs—contentment reaches you and the stress gained from the ride here begins to fade, if only by a little.

“Hobie, this is so sweet,” you coo, pleasure lightening the tone of your voice.

His rings just as sweetly through the evening air. “Good to hear—would’ve been gutted if you didn’t like it.”

You laugh at the response, casting an affectionate glance at him that just grows fonder upon meeting his charming reciprocation. The bend of his brow, the part and curve of his lips, the crinkle of his eye—all of it has you transfixed for a generous moment, barely able to notice the way your navel aches with longing in your stupor.

The feeling persists throughout the evening, present in every winding conversation and instance of quiet shared between the two of you. It’s rather freeing to be unconstrained by the formalities usually held by the label of a first date and to sense such endearment for the whole of it. There is no talking to only talk—every sentiment has meaning, every word punctuated by some semblance of tenderness; there is no awkward atmosphere brought about by nervous tension—you rest comfortably, leaning back on your hands, as does Hobie, elbows on crossed legs, positioned towards you.

Hours pass by easily in the space, kissing the sky with hues of orange and gold and violet as they bid a teary farewell, trails of light following in the wake of their departure. Yawning clouds push to the east, unlined shapes dissipating with the fleeting luster. Soon, the New York city skyline is only a bleak, black horizon that cradles a half-yolked sun just shy of its surface.

Golden rays grace your skin, full and temperate and real. You’re just about to gush to Hobie about how this is your favorite time of the day when you’re stopped by the shallow movement of his arm.

He shifts to pick the carnation laid closest to your hand, snaps off the longer part of its stem, then tucks it delicately behind your ear. Wordlessly, he adjusts the petals, and grins when they seem to his liking.

You’re practically bursting at the seams when he retracts his hand, fingers ghosting the curve of your cheek on their path back. Heat rushes to your neck, white-hot on a quick shot up to heat every inch of your face. The sensation catches your breath, widens your eye, tucks the tip of your bottom lip between your teeth, and all you can do is sit and watch Hobie as he admires you.

There’s a look in his eye that you hope is reflected in yours, how beautiful he is. The warm vermillion hue of the sun hits his complexion and it’s like there’s nothing else in the world to behold but him.

Suddenly you find yourself reaching for the flowers on the blanket, clasping multiple in one hand and halving the stems with the other.

Leaning forward, palms stained with sap, you place the carnations in each of Hobie’s wicks, uncaring of the smell of chlorophyll or the tremble of your fingers. You only return to your seat and wipe your hands when you finish, the expanse of his head dotted in small blooms, all that’s left of the original bouquet messily cut stems and loose leaves.

A breathy laugh escapes you at the sight, light and happy and bright. “You are so pretty, Hobie,” you whisper, your heart swelling with adoration. “And I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

He smiles. “I’m not going to stop you,” he says, then wraps his arms around you when you crush your lips to his.

You feel you must be drunk on something, but are entirely too far gone to care the slightest bit. Hobie is every bit as soft and warm as you imagined, his hold homely, his scent familiar. Breathing him in, bergamot, plum, and sandalwood filling your lungs, a dreamy sigh stutters out of your nose before you start to move.

The kiss takes on a steady rhythm then, perhaps the easiest thing you’ve had to follow. Each press of your lips against his finds just the right amount of resistance, the feel of his piercing snug as it nudges you in every shift. Your hands find purchase in cupping his face, fingertips smoothing the silver studs that line his ears and thumbs stroking his cheeks.

Hobie’s touch rests just shy of your waist, the bend of his elbows against your ribs, palms flat against your scapula. His chest rises and falls with every breath, a slight hitch in the motion when you crawl to his lap, sitting in the space between his legs.

The two of you share your own pocket of heaven for a minute longer, then with one last kiss, you part. As your eyes flutter open, Hobie slides a hand off your back to thumb your lip, swiping a finger across your bottom one.

You make a questioning noise but remain unmoving as he works, sliding his digit across sensitive skin.

“My lipstick got on you,” he explains when he finishes, showing you black makeup smeared on his thumb. “I liked the look of it, but didn’t know if you did.”

A gentle laugh spouts from you at his kindness. “I’m all for you giving me a makeover next time,” you say with a grin.

Hobie gives a small chuckle back, delight sparkling in his eye. “Good.”

The afterbuzz of the date still tingles the back of Hobie’s neck even hours later. It’s ten o’clock, the moon at highrise and not a single star in sight in the muddy violet pool that overhangs New York. He’s in the middle of a stakeout, monitoring an energy station reopened as bait for whatever, whoever, might come out in response. The task of fully focusing proves rather hard in the wake of remembering the warmth of you as you held him, the brush of your lips against his, and your small gasps of breath, but he tries anyhow.

Hobie’s just finished shaking off the image of your face in the light of dusk when his watch buzzes. He looks down with a frown, noting the peculiarity of receiving a call this late.

“Gwendy,” he greets, an orange hologram of Stacy appearing with the twist of a dial. “What are you ringing me for?”

“Hey Hobie,” she returns flatly, not providing much else before quickly casting her gaze askance.

From her projection, Hobie can gather that something seems off—Gwen’s stance is completely closed, arms crossed and feet together. What looks like nervousness twists her features, pinches her forehead, pulls her lips tight together. She’s never been good at hiding her emotions, but even this seems exaggerated.

Sobriety seeps into Hobie then, the high of hours ago eroding. “Something wrong?” he asks, voice dropping low.

Gwen pauses, hesitating. “Miguel wants you back at HQ,” is what comes from her after a few seconds. “Now.”

“What about the mission?”

“He just says to leave. There’s been some new intel. That’s all I know.” Gwen swallows thickly, her eyes flickering back to Hobie. “See you soon.”

“Alright, see ya.” The hologram blinks twice, then disappears. Hobie taps on his watch to open a portal back to Earth-928, dubiety sinking its teeth into his thoughts. Miguel was ever the autocrat, so he was never quite fond of the guy, but the way Gwen had come to him—with a fresh feeling that extended beyond terror etched in her expression—that doesn’t sit well. He doesn’t need a spider-sense to recognize that something is amiss.

Somehow, he can’t elude the feeling of dread that creeps to him when he’s swallowed by the vortex.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown/reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown/you #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #hobie brown imagine #fluff #angst #kissing <3 yeah #miguel o'hara #gwen stacy #i wish this kiss were a canon event i really do #yeah uh hold onto your hats for the last part

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 3 months ago

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Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 11: Damian, Damian, Damian, Kayden, Kayden, Kayden

Meanwhile in New York..

Damian hummed to himself, the comforting scent of bagels and cream cheese filling the air as he walked down the quiet city street.

His mind wandered to the relaxing day he had planned with Kayden, but his peaceful thoughts were shattered when something cold and hard pressed against his back.

Before he could react, two hands gripped his shoulders, yanking him violently into a nearby alleyway. The bagel sandwiches flew from his hands, landing with a muffled thud on the grimy pavement as the world around him spun.

"Hey!" Damian managed to shout, his voice hoarse. "What the hell-?"

The figure struck first, a brutal punch to his stomach that left him gasping for air. He stumbled back, but there was no escape.

The figure closed in, swinging a baseball bat with bone-crushing force. The sickening crack of the wood connecting with his ribs sent pain radiating through his body, and before he could recover, another strike hit him square in the head. The world blurred, his vision going dark.

Damian crumpled to the ground, unconscious and vulnerable. The figure loomed over him, a shadow of malice, before stepping away with a smirk.

Inside the loft, Kayden hummed as she picked up a stray shirt off the floor. The cozy space had a peaceful aura, but it felt off. She couldn't quite place it. When the knock came at the door, she thought nothing of it.

"Damian? You forget your keys babe?" she called, heading over to answer.

But as soon as she opened the door, she was hit with the full force of it-the door crashing into her nose, sending her stumbling backward. The sharp pain exploded through her face, and before she could recover, the figure was upon her.

A brutal kick to her ribs stole the breath from her lungs, sending her crashing to the floor in a daze. Kayden gasped for air, but the world around her spun. She barely had time to react before another hard blow to her head rendered her unconscious.

The figure stood over her, its chest rising and falling with a satisfaction that was chilling.

"Too easy," they muttered, pulling out the burner phone from their pocket.

With a quick, practiced motion, the figure dialed a number.

"Man and woman assaulted.” The figure gave the address and hung up without another word, it turned, and walked calmly out of the loft. The door swung shut behind them with an eerie finality.

Stepping into the alleyway, the figure discarded the burner phone into a trash can.

The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

—

In the dimly lit room, the figure stood over a small table cluttered with documents and photos, a burner phone pressed to their ear. The quiet hum of a nearby streetlamp flickered through the window, casting long shadows across the floor.

“Is it done?” The figure asked, their voice low, almost impatient.

“Yeah. It’s done,” the voice on the other end replied, calm, almost detached. “Damian and Kayden are out of the way.”

The figure grinned, the rush of adrenaline still fresh in their veins. “So, what’s next? What do we do now?”

There was a pause on the other end, before the partner’s voice came back, more amused now. “Now, we wait.”

The figure frowned, pacing in a tight circle. “Wait? We’ve got the momentum now—why can’t we strike again? We’ve got everyone rattled. We can finish this.”

The partner on the other end chuckled darkly. “Because it’s not time. You have to understand, this isn’t a game of quick wins. You can’t rush this. The next move is scheduled. But it’s going to take time. We move in April.”

“Almost two months from now?” The figure’s confusion mixed with frustration. “That’s so far away!”

The partner’s laugh was colder this time. “It’s April. Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait. Everything will fall into place then.”

The figure’s eyes narrowed. “April… Fine. I’ll tell the others.”

“I don’t need to tell you twice. We’ll reconvene when the time comes.” The partner’s voice became firmer, signaling the end of the conversation.

Without another word, the figure ended the call, a sinister grin spreading across their face. They glanced out of the window, staring at the quiet street as if imagining what would unfold next.

It wasn’t the time to act more aggressively, but when April came… everything would change.

—

11:48 AM

The sound of laughter and casual chatter filled the room as Jey, Rhea, Liv, Dominik, Jeyce, and Jaciyah sat around the breakfast table. Despite the lingering tension from recent events, the group did their best to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

Jaciyah, ever the curious teenager, turned to Liv. “So, you single or what?”

The table fell silent for a moment, before Jey’s voice cut through. “Jaciyah,” he called out sternly, shaking his head.

Liv, ever the good sport, grinned at the young teen. “On the contrary, you’re sitting next to my boyfriend,” she said, nudging Dominik.

Dominik waved at Jaciyah with a casual smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

Jaciyah leaned back in his chair, a smirk forming on his face. “Damn, you get all the girls, Dom.”

Dominik laughed, looking at Rhea. “Eh, not all of them.”

Rhea chuckled from across the table, giving Dominik a playful look. “Definitely, not all of them,” she echoed, sending Jaciyah a wink.

The atmosphere lightened, the sound of laughter spilling over as Jey tried to mask his concerns. But the moment was short-lived.

Jey’s phone buzzed suddenly, and he glanced down to see his father’s name flashing on the screen. Excusing himself from the table, he stood and stepped into the garage, pulling the door shut behind him for a little more privacy.

“Go ahead, Dad,” Jey said, his voice steady but his brow furrowed in concern.

“Jey,” Solofa’s voice crackled through the line, a hint of worry slipping through his usually calm demeanor. “Jon and Trinity’s cars got caught on fire.”

Jey’s heart skipped a beat. “What? Are they okay?”

“They’re safe now,” Solofa reassured him quickly. “They’re on a plane to my place in Titusville. But I thought you should know. He had called me first and then before he boarded the plane he had called me again and told me it.”

Jey let out a breath of relief, but the unease still lingered in his chest. “Fuck… what is even happening?” he said, the weight of the situation settling over him.

Solofa paused for a moment. “Son… are you safe? You and Rhea, are you around people you can trust?”

Jey looked back toward the house, his gaze resting on the family inside, who were still enjoying breakfast. “We are, Dad. Don’t worry about us. Just make sure Jon and Trinity are safe. That’s all I care about right now.”

Solofa let out a long sigh, one that seemed to carry a lifetime of concern. “Of course, son. You take care of your family. I’ll take care of Jon and Trinity.”

Jey ended the call with a nod, his thoughts racing as he stepped back into the house. It felt like the world was closing in, and there was no escaping what was coming next.

—

Rhea knelt down in the greenhouse, her hands gently touching the freshly planted lilies. It was a small act of normalcy amidst the chaos that had consumed her life over the past weeks. Yet, the quiet was always fleeting.

The least you could do is finish planting the roses.

Rhea didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The voice, low and familiar, had a calming effect on her, even in the midst of everything. She set down her trowel, her fingers brushing against the soft earth, and sighed.

Jey stepped into the small space, his presence filling it with warmth and safety. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. His touch was grounding, pulling her back from the edge.

Rhea leaned into him, her eyes closing for a moment, taking solace in the silence that surrounded them. But after a beat, she broke the stillness. “Are we ever going to have some time of normalcy?” she asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

Jey’s lips brushed against her neck, his embrace tightening just slightly as if to reassure her. “We will,” he murmured against her skin.

Rhea turned slightly in his arms to face him, her expression filled with concern and a trace of fear. “Jey… I don’t want to feel like we have to live in constant fear.”

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing her cheek. “I get it, babe. But I’m not gonna sit here and do nothing while our family’s at risk. I won’t take that chance.”

Rhea’s brow furrowed, her eyes flickering with unease. “What do you mean?”

Jey hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with determination. “Well, I just signed us up for a safety course, and I’ve filed both of our applications to carry.”

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat, and she took a small step back, her hands shaking slightly. “Jey… I don’t want us to resort to carrying weapons. That’s not us.”

“I get it your concern Rhe’..” Jey said, his voice softening, but his tone still firm. “But you’re carrying our child, babe. I’ve got my sons here. I’m gonna do what I have to do to protect my family. I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

Rhea felt the weight of his words settle heavily in her chest. She knew he was right. The world around them was dangerous, unpredictable. And even though it terrified her, she understood that Jey would do whatever it took to keep them safe.

She met his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but found none. Just love. Just unwavering resolve.

“Promise me we won’t lose ourselves in all of this,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Jey kissed her forehead softly, holding her close. “I promise. We’ll fight to stay together, no matter what.” After they broke apart, Rhea tended to the roses.

Jey finally spoke after their moment of solitude. his voice heavy with concern. “Do you think we should hire security?”

Rhea didn’t look up from her task, but her hand stilled as she processed the question. “We can’t afford it,” she replied, her tone calm but resigned.

Jey frowned, frustration building. “Babe… I make damn near seven million a year. I could afford it.”

Rhea set down the soil and turned to face him, meeting his gaze. “And I went from making six million a year to only ninety thousand. We’re adjusting, Jey. We’ve got enough bills piling up as it is—mortgage, utilities, groceries, medical expenses…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I just don’t see how we can stretch our finances any thinner right now.”

He stepped closer to her, his expression hardening. “I get it. I do. But we need someone to help us right now…”

Rhea crossed her arms, her gaze flickering away as she considered it. She understood his worry. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of danger, fear, and unanswered questions. But the reality was, even with all of Jey’s wealth, they couldn’t afford to be reckless.

“I agree,” she finally said, sighing. “But who? We don’t have anyone left we can trust. Even family has been shaken.”

Jey’s eyes darted down to his arms as his fingers brushed against the tattoos that marked his skin—symbols of his heritage, his bloodline. Family. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“I’m stupid,” he muttered to himself.

Rhea gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

He grinned, finally seeing the answer. “My family,” he said confidently.

Rhea blinked, a furrow crossing her brow. “Your family?”

Jey nodded, determination in his voice. “Yeah, my family. I gotta make some calls.”

Without another word, he spun on his heel and left the greenhouse, his mind already racing with the plans he needed to set into motion. Rhea watched him go, her heart pounding. She whispered to herself, a touch of disbelief in her voice, “This is the life I chose.”

Inside the house, Jeyce was sitting at his piano on his bedroom, his fingers lightly pressing the keys, a soft melody filling the room. The sound of his phone vibrating broke through the music.

“Demi,” he said with a smile, seeing her name flash on the screen. He quickly picked up the call.

“What’s up, Jeyce?” Demi’s voice was warm, teasing, as usual.

“Not much, just practicing,” Jeyce replied casually, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the tune. “So, what are you doing later? Want to hang out?”

Demi sighed from the other side of the screen. “My dad and Daya are having dinner with my mom and my bonus dad. I’m not going. I’m just gonna stay in.”

Jeyce leaned forward, his face lighting up with mischief. “Sneak out. Come to my house. Rhea and my dad are entertaining guests, so they’re gonna leave me alone.”

Demi raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “How exactly am I supposed to get in, genius?”

Jeyce grinned, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve got a picket wall that goes right up to my room. You could easily climb over and come in through the window.”

Demi let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You want me to climb up to your window? Seriously?”

Jeyce nodded, his smile widening. “Piece of cake. Plus, I’ve got a lock on my door, so no one will ever know you’re here. It’ll be like a secret mission.”

Demi smiled, clearly entertained by the idea. “You’re ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amusement. “Fine, I’ll come over. But I’m not climbing that wall in a dress.”

Jeyce laughed. “Deal. I’ll see you tonight then.”

Meanwhile, Jey was in the garage, his phone pressed to his ear. The weight of the situation was heavy on his chest, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was closing in. He needed help—he needed his family.

The phone rang for a few moments before Solofa, his father, picked up.

“Son,” Solofa greeted, his voice calm but carrying the authority that only a father could have.

“Dad I’m sorry I didn’t think of this before but I need your help,” Jey said firmly, pacing as spoke. “I’m not going to wait around for something worse to happen.I need security. And I need family.”

Solofa was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, his tone unwavering. “Say no more. What do you need?”

Jey glanced back at the house, where Rhea and the kids were inside, likely making dinner or just trying to hold it all together. “Everything you can spare,” he said. “I don’t care what it takes, Dad. We need to be protected.”

Solofa’s voice was steady. “Consider it done. You take care of your family. I’ll handle the rest.”

Jey hung up the phone and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. A sense of relief washed over him, knowing his family would have his back—always. He knew his father wouldn’t hesitate to rally the troops and make sure everyone was safe.

As Jey stood in the garage, staring at his Mercedes, the weight of responsibility began to settle over him. He had a family to protect, a family that was his everything. And no matter what it took, he would make sure no one touched them.

—

Liv paced the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was tense, her mind racing. “So, you see why you should implement something or at least warn your talent?” she pressed, her voice laced with urgency.

Hunter, seated across from her and Dominik, leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his temple as if trying to stave off an impending headache.

“I got word about Damian and Kayden,” Hunter began, his tone somber. “One accident, I can overlook. But three incidents in twelve hours? All targeting my top talent?” His piercing gaze flickered between the two of them. “That’s a coordinated attack.”

Dominik nodded, his jaw clenched. “It’s not random.”

Hunter exhaled deeply, his shoulders visibly weighed down. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll work on a game plan to keep everyone safe. In the meantime, I’m pulling you two off the air for two weeks.”

Liv’s eyes widened. “Two weeks? Hunter, we—”

Hunter held up a hand to stop her. “This isn’t a punishment, Liv. You both need time to recover, and honestly, I want you out of the spotlight while we figure out who’s behind this. You took that chair attack from Bianca this past Monday, I could do a work on you being out for these next two Mondays.” He glanced at Liv, his expression softening slightly. “I’ll set you up with a doctor’s appointment on Monday. You’ve been through a lot. I want to make sure you’re okay, physically and mentally.”

Liv hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine.”

“Are you two safe staying with Jey and Rhea?” Hunter asked, leaning forward.

Dominik pulled out his phone, checking his messages. “Jey texted me earlier. Said some of his family is flying in to stay with us until this blows over.”

Hunter nodded approvingly. “Good. That’ll give you some added protection. In the meantime, if the police want to speak with you, let me know immediately. I’ll have a lawyer ready for both of you.”

Liv and Dominik exchanged a glance before standing. “Thanks, Hunter,” Dominik said, extending a hand.

Hunter shook it firmly. “Stay safe. And keep me posted.”

—

Jey was in his home office, pacing as he held his phone to his ear. His voice was low but intense. “Jeremiah, you got my message?”

“Yeah, cuz,” Jeremiah’s voice came through the speaker, calm yet resolute. “You need us, we’re there. Uncle already sent someone over to watch Jon and Trin’. We got you Uce’.”

“I’m not playing around with this,” Jey said, his tone serious. “These people came after my friends, my family. And now, with Rhea pregnant…” His voice trailed off, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

“We get it,” Jeremiah replied. “No worries, Jey. We’ll be in Connecticut by Monday.”

“Good,” Jey said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “We’ll handle this together.”

Jeremiah chuckled. “Like always, cuz. Family sticks together.”

As Jey ended the call, he glanced out the window, his mind racing. He wasn’t just fighting to protect himself; he was fighting for everyone he loved. And with his family by his side, he knew they had a fighting chance.

—

Rhea stared at her phone screen, the tears in her eyes blurring Damian’s face in his hospital room. She had just heard the devastating news: both Damian and Kayden had been attacked. Her heart ached for them, and for herself. This nightmare wasn’t over; it had only escalated. She wiped her eyes, but the tears kept coming, fueled by helplessness and frustration.

“Are you sure you and Kayden don’t want to come to us?” she asked, her voice cracking with concern. “I want to protect you.”

Damian let out a soft chuckle, as though trying to lighten the mood despite the heavy conversation. “Rhea… mi amor, al final, el diablo viene por todos.”

Rhea smiled through her tears, hearing the familiar warmth in his voice despite the situation. “Te quiero mucho, Damian,” she whispered, her heart heavy with the weight of it all.

Damian waved at the screen, his face fading as the FaceTime call ended.

Rhea dropped her phone onto the table and buried her face in her hands, feeling utterly defeated. How had everything spiraled out of control so fast? The attacks, the fear for her friends and family—everything was too much to carry on her own.

She didn’t hear Dominik approach until she felt a gentle hand on her back. She turned to him, tears still streaming down her face, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her.

“Dominik,” she gasped between sobs, clinging to him, “did I cause all of this?”

Dominik pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes. His hands rested on her shoulders, and his voice was firm but comforting. “No, Rhea. Being with Jey has changed you. It’s made you stronger, but it’s also made you care more. You’ve grown so much since I met you. You’re not the same person you were before.”

“But…” She hesitated, her voice shaking. “I don’t want Jey to regret me. I just… I can’t bear the thought of him resenting me.”

Dominik softened. “Jey loves you, Rhea. He’ll never regret you. But you need to trust him too. He needs you, just like you need him. You’re both stronger together.”

Unbeknownst to them, Jey and Liv had quietly watched the entire exchange from the hallway. Jey’s eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed in silent thought. His heart ached for Rhea, but a knot twisted in his chest as he stood there, unseen.

After a moment, Jey turned and quietly made his way downstairs. His footsteps were slow, each one heavy with frustration. His mind raced, and his heart pounded in his chest. He needed to get away, to clear his head, to find a way to handle everything—the fear, the guilt, the constant barrage of violence and heartbreak.

He reached the garage, the cold air hitting his face as he stepped inside. The quiet hum of the space was a temporary relief from the chaos in his mind.

Jey approached the punching bag, his eyes hardening as he stared at it. Without hesitation, he stretched his hands, cracking his knuckles, and then let loose. The first punch was powerful, the bag swinging in response, but it wasn’t enough. The anger, the frustration, the helplessness—nothing could be worked out with one blow.

With every punch, memories flashed in his mind, each one more painful than the last. Rhea’s assault at the hands of Matthew. The day she tried to end it all. His own shooting, the blood, the pain, the loss. Julie.. Each image looped in his mind like a broken record, repeating over and over. The rage and pain felt like a living thing inside him, and he poured it all into the bag, each punch louder, more desperate than the last.

He lost track of time, his body moving automatically as the adrenaline surged. Sweat dripped down his face, his shoulder screaming in pain from the exertion, but he kept going. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. The rage was endless.

Eventually, his arms felt like lead, and the punches slowed, finally coming to a stop. Jey’s breathing was erratic, his chest heaving as he stood there, his hands gripping the punching bag for support. His entire body trembled with exhaustion, but the anger still gnawed at him.

As he leaned against the bag, trying to steady his breathing, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned, meeting Liv’s calm gaze. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but soft.

“You two need each other, no matter what,” she said quietly.

Jey blinked, the exhaustion in his eyes giving way to a flash of understanding. He let out a deep breath, his head dropping slightly.

“I’m just so tired, Liv,” he muttered. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Liv’s expression softened. She had never fully understood the weight that Jey carried, the constant pressure of trying to protect the people he loved while dealing with his own demons.

“I never realized how heavy this all is for you,” she admitted, her voice gentle. “You’ve been carrying so much, Jey. And I know it’s not easy, but you’re not alone in this. You’ve got Rhea, you’ve got your family, and you’ve got us. Me, Dom, Finn, Cody… everyone. We’ll get through this together.”

Jey didn’t say anything for a moment. He just stood there, his eyes distant, lost in thought. He could feel Liv’s words sinking in, but it wasn’t enough to erase the heaviness in his chest. The fight wasn’t over.

But maybe… just maybe… he didn’t have to fight it alone.

As he took another deep breath, he finally nodded. “Thanks, Liv.”

Liv offered him a small, reassuring smile. “Anytime, Jey. Anytime.”

And as the weight of the past few months settled around them both, Jey couldn’t help but wonder if he was strong enough to carry on, if he could keep his promises to Rhea, to protect her, to fight for them both. The battle wasn’t over. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like he might just be ready to face it.

The door to the garage creaked open, and Jey turned to see Rhea standing there with Dominik behind her, her eyes searching his face. She wiped away her tears and without a word, he walked toward her, his hand reaching out. She took it, her fingers intertwining with his, and for a moment, the world outside faded away.

They didn’t have all the answers, and the road ahead was uncertain. But together, they would face whatever came their way. Because at the end of the day, they needed each other more than anything.

Dominik cleared his throat, breaking the tension in the room. “Look, I understand a lot of shit has happened, but… maybe some liquor would help?”

Liv smirked. “And honestly, I’m starving. All this drama works up an appetite.”

Jey let out a soft laugh, his first in hours. “BBQ?”

Rhea scrunched her nose and sniffled. “Do we even have any meat left?”

Jey grinned. “Me and Dom will take care of it.”

Dominik stood, patting Rhea on the shoulder. “Yeah, come on, Rhea. I’ll make your favorite.”

Jey raised a brow. “Wait, what’s her favorite?”

Dominik smirked. “Beef fajitas with my homemade tortillas.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please!”

Jey leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Alright, we’ll be back soon.”

As Jey and Dominik headed to the car, Liv and Rhea made their way back to the living room. Liv plopped onto the couch beside Rhea. “Looks like you’ll have a full house soon,” she said with a smirk.

Rhea exhaled, nodding. “Yeah, it’s a lot, but… it feels right, you know?”

Just then, Jeyce came down the stairs, his face flushed and his steps hurried. He stopped at the bottom, looking around. “Where’s my dad?”

“He and Dom went to grab food for the BBQ,” Rhea said, studying his expression. “You okay?”

Jeyce’s eyes darted away as he mumbled, “Yeah, I’m fine,” before quickly retreating back upstairs.

Liv tilted her head, watching him disappear. “What’s up with the little Uso?”

Rhea sighed, standing up. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

Rhea walked up the stairs, her steps soft against the hardwood. She stopped outside Jeyce’s room, her hand hovering over the door. Just as she was about to knock, she paused, hearing his voice through the thin barrier.

“The plan is off. Rhea and my dad are BBQing,” Jeyce said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Rhea tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. What plan?

A softer voice responded through the speaker. It was a girl, and she sounded surprisingly calm. “It’s okay. We can figure it out.”

“No,” Jeyce sighed, the irritation in his tone melting into something more disappointed. “I wanted to spend time with you again.”

Rhea felt her brows lift in surprise. She leaned in slightly, careful not to make a sound, her heart warmed by the sincerity in his voice.

The girl giggled softly. “Maybe I could show you a better peck on the lips next time…”

Rhea’s eyes widened. Her surprise quickly turned into a grin, her heart swelling with pride and amusement. Jeyce… had his first kiss? She couldn’t help but feel a mixture of pride and protectiveness.

Jeyce’s voice faltered, stammering through his next words. “D-Demi, you’re so cool. I’ll text you later, okay?”

Demi? Rhea’s smile grew. What are the odds? The girl shared her name, which made the situation even more amusing.

The familiar FaceTime end tone sounded, and Rhea decided it was time to intervene. She gently knocked on the door.

“Jeyce? Can I come in?”

There was a sudden shuffle from inside—papers rustling, a drawer slamming shut, and what sounded like a hurried attempt to straighten up. “Uh… yeah! Just a sec!”

After a few more seconds, the door creaked open, revealing a flustered Jeyce. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, his eyes avoiding hers.

“Hey, Rhea,” he mumbled, clearly trying to play it cool. “What’s up?”

Rhea leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms, a playful smirk on her lips. “Not much. Just wanted to check in. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jeyce replied quickly, his voice cracking slightly. Jeyce broke eye contact and he sat on his bed.

Rhea raised a brow, her smirk widening. “So… who’s Demi?”

Jeyce’s eyes widened in panic, and his face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, Rhea took a step into the room and sat next to Jeyce on his bed. “Uh… no one! Just a friend from school.”

Rhea chuckled, leaning in slightly. “A friend who gives you kisses?”

Jeyce groaned loudly, his hands flying up to cover his face. “You heard that?”

“Yep,” Rhea said, laughing softly. She reached out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Jeyce peeked at her from behind his hands, his embarrassment starting to fade. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “She’s really cool, Rhea. I think she really likes me for who I am..”

Rhea’s heart softened, her playful demeanor giving way to genuine affection. “Sounds like it. And for the record, you’re pretty cool too, kid.”

Jeyce finally managed a small smile, his earlier nerves easing. “Thanks.”

Rhea stood up, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, why don’t you come downstairs and help me set up for the BBQ? Your dad and Dom will be back soon, and we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

“Okay,” Jeyce agreed, his confidence returning.

As they made their way down the stairs, Rhea glanced over at Jeyce, her heart swelling with warmth. Despite all the chaos that had surrounded their lives lately, moments like these reminded her of the joy and love that still existed.

When they reached the living room, Liv looked up from her seat on the couch, her eyes narrowing playfully. “What’s up with the little Uso? He looked like he saw a ghost earlier.”

Rhea exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Jeyce before smirking at Liv. “Oh, nothing. Just some top-secret business, right, Jeyce?”

Jeyce grinned, a spark of mischief returning to his eyes. “Right.”

Liv rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Well, if it’s as ‘top secret’ as you say, you’d better hope your dad doesn’t find out.”

Jeyce froze for a split second before Rhea laughed, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t worry, Liv. This one’s between me and Jeyce.”

Liv smirked but didn’t press further, letting the moment pass.

Rhea felt a sense of peace settle over her as she and Jeyce began prepping the outdoor area. Despite everything they had been through, this family was still standing strong.

—

Meanwhile, Hunter sat next to Bruce Prichard, rubbing his temples in frustration. The weight of the recent events—the attacks on his talent, the mounting pressure, and the responsibilities of running the show—was taking a toll on him.

“Is that it with the calls?” Hunter asked, his voice weary, leaning back in his chair.

Bruce, who had been taking diligent notes on his tablet, nodded. “I believe we got them all.” His eyes met Hunter’s. “Everyone’s been informed, at least the important ones. The mandatory safety protocols are in place—three people traveling together, basic awareness checks.” He sighed.

Hunter ran a hand through his hair, staring at the papers spread across the table. The follow-up emails were still buzzing in the background, the reminder of the chaos weighing heavily. “Good, good,” Hunter muttered. “And what about the detectives in Orlando and Pensacola? Have they given us anything solid?”

Bruce’s eyes darkened slightly, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “Yes, they’re now working with Stamford PD and NYPD at this point. They’re all coordinating, but… they can’t tell us anything definitive just yet.” He leaned in a bit closer. “They’ve got a few leads, but they’re being tight-lipped. Still, it’s better than nothing.”

Hunter frowned, feeling the sense of helplessness creep in. He took a deep breath, trying to focus. “Has it been spreading any further? Any other incidents?”

Bruce shook his head. “Not as of now, thankfully. But with everything happening in such a short span, it feels like it’s only a matter of time. We’ve got to be ready for anything.”

Hunter sighed, feeling the weight of the uncertainty hanging in the air. He shifted in his chair, his mind working over the logistics, the details. “Did you adjust the storylines because of the superstars being out?”

Bruce looked down at his tablet and started scrolling. “Yes I’ve already made the adjustments. The biggest change right now is the lack of availability of some of our top stars. I’ve had to shift some angles, but we’ve got plans in motion. It’s not ideal, but we’ll manage.”

Hunter nodded, absorbing Bruce’s words. The show must go on, no matter how many obstacles were in the way. “Do we have a backup plan for Elimination Chamber?” he asked. “It’s coming up, and we can’t afford any more hiccups.”

Bruce gave a small, confident smile. “We do. It’s tight, but we’ve got a plan B in place. If we need to adjust the entire card, we’ll be ready.”

Hunter rubbed his temples again, feeling the mounting pressure. “Good. We can’t afford to lose any more ground, not with everything that’s at stake. Get the talent ready, and keep me in the loop if anything changes.” His tone softened slightly. “And, Bruce? Let’s keep this between us for now. We don’t need corporate panicking. The last thing we need is paranoia spreading like wildfire.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. “Of course, Hunter. We’ll keep it tight.”

Hunter exhaled, trying to shake off the stress that was quickly building again. “Alright. Let’s focus on getting this show on the road. We’ve got too many people relying on us.”

As Hunter and Bruce continued to strategize, the hum of the office around them faded as they both plunged deeper into their work, their minds focused entirely on the task ahead. But in the back of both their minds, the chilling thought remained: the person behind these attacks was still out there. And they couldn’t afford to let their guard down—not for a second.

They reviewed notes and ran through the adjustments; but Hunter couldn’t shake the unease in his gut. No matter what happened, he would have to keep everyone safe—and make sure the show, and his talent, were protected.

—

Jeyce and Jaciyah sat comfortably in the living room, their eyes glued to the TV screen as they went back and forth in a heated Call of Duty match. The sounds of controllers clicking and their competitive banter filled the air, while Liv and Rhea worked in the kitchen, preparing sides for the BBQ. The kitchen smelled like fresh vegetables, sizzling sauces, and spices—everything coming together for a meal that would bring some sense of normalcy to a chaotic time.

Outside, Dom and Jey were by the pit, standing next to the fire, with the faint crackling of the wood filling the background. Dom had pulled out his phone, ready to put Jey onto some new music, the playlist blasting to life as the cool evening air surrounded them.

“Hey I told Hunter at the meeting about contacting Orlando..” Dominik said looking up from his phone.

“Thank you for that.. did he say anything else?” Jey asked, his curiosity piquing.

“Well we all have to travel in threes.. me and Liv are off camera for two weeks… so can we continue to use your spare guest room for the time being?” Dom asked.

“Anytime..” Jey said patting Dom’s back.

“Great… now let me put you on some new rap,” Dom said with a grin as he continued scrolling through his playlist. He raised his eyebrows, glancing over at Jey as he found the perfect track.

Jey rolled his eyes and raised his hand, “Ay man, don’t hate on my playlist,” he teased.

Dom laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not hating, just expanding your horizons.”

With a flourish, Dom hit play, and Cowboy Killer by That Mexican OT blared through the stereo. The rhythm hit hard, the Spanish beats blending effortlessly with the rap flow, and the bass seemed to sync with the crackling of the pit.

Jey’s head immediately started to bob along with the beat. He took in the difference in the music, feeling the way the melody carried itself. “Dude is actually cold,” Jey admitted with a grin, turning to Dom.

“Right?!” Dom said, laughing. “This track gets me hyped. I listen to it to get into my Dirty Dom persona,” he added, his voice dripping with amusement.

Jey raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “Dirty Dom, huh? That persona really did work for you, didn’t it?”

Dom smirked, leaning against the table next to the pit. “Hell yeah, it did. You’ve seen the heat I keep getting, man. Best part of my career so far.”

Jey laughed and shook his head. “Man, you’re crazy.”

After the song ended, Jey swiped his phone and started scrolling through his own playlist, looking for the perfect track. He was in the mood to vibe, but also wanted to get into the mindset of his old Right Hand Man gimmick. He smirked as he found the song, his thumb hovering over the play button.

“You want to hear what I would listen to, to get into my Right Hand Man gimmick?” Jey asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Dom’s eyebrows shot up. “Hell yeah,” he said eagerly. “That was my favorite gimmick of yours, bro. The way you’d crash out every day, get into people’s faces—man, that was gold.”

Jey smirked, feeling the rush of memories flood back. He hit play, and the unmistakable opening beat of Black Skinhead by Kanye West blasted from the speakers. The hard, gritty rhythm filled the air, and as soon as the bass dropped, Jey’s head started to bob, his eyes closed for a moment as he felt the familiar energy of the song.

“Man, this track use to always get me in that zone,” Jey said, turning to Dom with a grin. “You know, back when I’d be standing by Roman’s side, just being that damn presence.”

Dom watched Jey closely, taking in the change in his demeanor. He could tell the Right Hand Man persona still had its hold on him, even if it was a chapter long passed. “That’s exactly it, bro,” Dom said, his voice serious for a moment. “That energy, that intensity—you were unstoppable.”

Jey nodded, feeling the beat pulse through him as the song continued. He let the rhythm take him back to those days when he was fiercely loyal to Roman, his confidence high and his focus sharp.

The song ended, and the two men stood there in silence for a moment, reflecting on their respective journeys. As Rich Flex by Drake play, they were both at a crossroads, dealing with so much personal and professional turmoil, but in that moment, the music and the shared history between them brought a sense of clarity.

Dom broke the silence, cracking a smile. “Man, I swear you still have that energy in you. You ever miss it?”

Jey shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t know. I’ve got my own vibe now with Main Event. And besides, I’m always gonna be Roman’s right hand, but it’s different now.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Dom said, nodding. “It’s crazy how things change. But you know, you still got that fire. You just gotta tap into it when you need it.”

Jey chuckled and took a swig from his drink, feeling the weight of Dom’s words. “Maybe. But right now, I’m good. Just taking it one step at a time.”

“That’s all you can do,” Dom agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. “We got this.”

The two of them stood there for a few more moments, watching the fire flicker as the music continued. Inside, Rhea and Liv continued to prep the meal, the warmth of the family gathering spreading through the house. Jeyce and Jaciyah were still battling it out in the living room, with their voices rising in playful arguments. Even with everything that had happened in recent weeks, this was the peace they needed.

As the music continued to pulse in the background, Liv and Rhea stepped outside, their laughter filling the evening air. Rhea handed Jey his beer and the bowl of seasoned meat for the grill, and without a second thought, she kissed him gently on the lips. Jey took the beer with a grin and sipped it, savoring the coolness that met his lips, but the kiss lingered in his mind long after.

Liv handed Dominik a beer too, but he, ever the playful one, puckered his lips toward her with a mischievous grin.

Liv shot him a look and shook her head with a laugh. “Leave the PDA to those two,” she teased, glancing at Rhea and Jey.

Rhea let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at Liv’s comment but still smiling as she caught Jey’s gaze, knowing there was no shortage of affection in their bond. They shared a connection that was deeper than just physical attraction—despite all the turmoil, their love was something that brought them peace when everything else felt chaotic.

Liv, who had been quietly tapping her foot to the music, paused. She looked at the men by the grill, then turned back to Rhea. “Oh hell no,” she said, dramatically raising her hand as if to stop the music. “I need a music change. Me and Rhea need a different pace.”

Dom looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly interested. “What do you suggest?” he asked, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Liv scrolled through her playlists on her phone, her expression one of focus. After a brief moment, she pressed play on WHATCHU KNO ABOUT ME by Glorilla and Sexyy Red. The bass hit hard, and the lyrics were fast-paced and full of energy.

Jey rolled his eyes as the beat dropped, but there was a playful smile on his face. “This ain’t really my thing,” he said, shaking his head but clearly amused.

Liv ignored his comment and grabbed Rhea by the hand, pulling her into a goofy, fun dance. They swayed, laughed, and completely let go, spinning around in the yard. It was a moment of pure fun—no worries, no stress, just the two women living in the moment.

The song ended, and as if on cue, the next track came on: What’s My Name by Drake and Rihanna. The soft intro played, and Rhea, still full of energy, glanced over at Jey with a playful smile. Without missing a beat, she began to sing the lyrics to him, her voice smooth and teasing as she sang, “Hey, boy, I really wanna see if you can go downtown with a girl like me…”

Jey watched her, captivated, as she moved toward him, pulling him into a brief but sensual dance. Her hips swayed as the beat flowed through her, and she took his hand, guiding him with ease as the lyrics continued: “Hey, boy, I really wanna be with ya, ’Cause ya just my type, ooh na na na na…”

Jey smiled, the warmth in his chest growing as he pulled her closer. Despite everything that had happened—everything that weighed heavy on both of them—the music always had a way of bringing them back to each other. It was like a secret language they shared, something that only the two of them understood, a connection that cut through the noise of the world around them.

Rhea leaned in slightly, her lips brushing his ear as she sang the line softly. She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, seeing the familiar spark there that always reminded her why she loved him so much. The chaos, the struggles, the pain—it all felt a little lighter in this moment. And as they danced together, Rhea felt a quiet sense of peace settle over her.

Jey smiled, his hands resting gently on her waist. “You know, I always said music was your thing,” he said softly. “But it’s like… it’s our thing now.”

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice soft. “It’s our thing.”

The song played on, but the world seemed to slow down as the two of them shared this simple, quiet moment of connection. It was like everything else faded away—the weight of everything they’d endured—and in this fleeting moment, it was just the two of them. And that was all they needed.

Author’s Note: this chapter takes place in a whole day. February 1st, 2025.

#fanfic #fanfiction #jey uso #rhea ripley #wwe #rhea and jey #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #yeet #the judgement day

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