#i have no excuse my brain is tired and the summer is just starting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 months ago

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Turn Off Your Phone (Dom!Pro!Hitoshi x sub!Plus-Sized!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot) [REQUEST FILL]

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x Black!Fem!Plus-Sized!Reader (Married Couple/Dom x sub Dynamic)

Synopsis: In which Hitoshi gets tired of not being the center of your attention and forces you to put your damn phone down.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Dom!Hitoshi/sub!Reader; Husband!Hitoshi/wife!Reader; Pro!Reader; Aged Up!Hitoshi (he’s in his late 20s-early 30s); Dom/sub Dynamics; BDSM; Consensual Hypnosis; Dubcon; Bondage; Oral (Giving & Receiving); 69ing; Facefuck; Riding; Doggystyle; Reader Cums 3x; Dumbification; Cum Drunk!Reader; Cunnilingus; Spanking; Hair-Pulling; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: This is a request by @dance-to-mythoughts-blog that was sent soooo long ago & I just managed to get to. I’m so sorry for the long wait! School & work literally became my entire summer, so I barely had much time to write. I hope you enjoy this regardless! -Jazz

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“Turn your phone off.”

You turn over to look at your husband, dazed and confused from scrolling through Pinterest. He is lying down next to you, in a tank top and boxers that do nothing to hide the muscles straining against the fabric. And he doesn’t look happy.

Sensing his irked tone, you slowly turn over in your cami that sticks to your soft, pudgy form and teeny-tiny shots dedicated to Hitoshi, his pro hero name printed across the back in bedazzled letters. “Excuse me?” you scoff.

You want to think you’re just hard at hearing or that your brain is muddled from the past few days at work. You work alongside Hitoshi as a pro hero, kicking ass, taking names, and sitting through boring meetings fantasizing about your hubby bending you over a table.

You love working with him, mostly because of how respectful he is towards you. You are more than just his wife when you work together. You’re equals. Hero to hero. He respects your intelligence and skills, allows you to use your voice…which is why you can’t understand why he’s talking to you like you’re a goddamn child now.

He glares at you, his handsome face written with irritation and his scarred lips pressed into a thin line. ”I said. Turn your fuckin’ phone off. You’ve been on that thing all day instead of on me.”

You sit up and place your phone in your lap for the first time in hours since he got home from your morning shift at the agency, much to Hitoshi’s joy. His shift is overnight patrolling which starts in an hour and he’s still here arguing with you.

“And that’s my fault?” You sharply ask. “We have a very demanding job, Shinso. This whole day, our team has been blowin’ us up about meetings, reports, villain sightings, and other bullshit.”

Hitoshi sits up too, on the same time as you are apparently.

“Yeah,” he replies, “but you’re not at work anymore. You’re here with me scrollin’ through Pinterest.”

He nods down at your screen showing one of your Pinterest mood boards that you’ve recently become obsessed with making. ”I have about eight hours till I have to get up and be back at work,” you argue, referring to your 5AM shift tomorrow at the agency. “Morning patrols. And you know my social media time relaxes me!”

And you’re not lying. An hour of scrolling through social media, watching YouTube, and online window shopping does relax you after a long work day. But Hitoshi begs to differ. When your phone suddenly dings with a notification, you go to check it, but your husband stops you by placing a hand on your thigh.

“I can’t relax you more?” He asks. He looks up at you with those damn violet eyes that always seem to melt you other than that handsome face, cropped lavender hair, and those muscles.

And his touch…it’s like you immediately lose all bodily functions when he touches your skin. And he knows that because his fingers, ringed and tatted at the knuckle, slink farther up your thigh to squeeze the soft flesh there. You ignore the way his calloused palms feel on your heated skin and scoot away from him.

“I’m not arguing with you tonight,” you sigh, swatting his hand away when he attempts to smack your ass. “Besides, don’t you have to get dressed soon and head into work which requires you to be on your phone just like me?”

You didn’t mean for it to come out as argumentative as it did, but it’s too late. As soon as Hitoshi hears the edge in your voice, his eyes darken and his brows narrow. Aw, shit.

“Yeah, and I’d rather spend my last hour of freedom with you.”

Your phone dings again, but the lavender-haired pro shoots across the bed and snatches it from you before you can check in. ”Gimme this,” he growls.

“Hey!” You snap. You go to grab it back, but Hitoshi is so tall, even when you’re both sitting, that all he has to do is hold it away from you and you can’t reach it. “Shinso, stop! Gimme back my phone!”

You try to stand up on the bed to reach over him, but he puts your phone on the bedside table before grabbing your ankles. You shriek, feeling the soft cushion of the mattress leave your feet as you find yourself falling backward in the air. Before you can hit the bed, Hitoshi quickly flips you both so he is underneath you.

He hits the mattress first while you’re wrapped up in his arms, your plush, soft body pressed against his harder, toner one. Your hands press against his hard chest, secretly indulging in the hard planes of his abs and shoulders.

Your husband stares up at you through long lashes, molten lust in his gaze. “Not until I get some attention…or do I have to use more persuasion?” His hands move down to grab on your ass while his lips toy with your neck.

You softly moan as soon as his lips touch your skin, his kisses tinged with the slight sharpness of his teeth as he nibbles on your collarbone. As he does this, your phone dings again.

“Shinso, c’mon,” you whine. “It’s a text. I have to answer it.”

You try to push off of him, but he stops you by suddenly rolling on top of you, trapping you beneath his big body. His knee wedges between your warm, plushy thighs, pressing right against your crotch…which is the last place you want anything of his right now.

“Mina can fuckin’ wait. You can tell her later that you were busy gettin’ put in the mattress by your one and only.” He gives you a smirk before pressing his lips to yours in a wanton, rough kiss that leaves you breathless.

You absolutely love his kisses. You love it when he teasingly nibbles along your bottom lip, pulling on it a bit before letting it pop back into place. You love the way his tongue slips out to swirl against yours, sharing spit and drawing the most desperate sounds out of you. You love the way he grinds his hips into yours as if he can’t wait to be inside of you.

As he does all of this to completely turn you to mush, just the way he likes, your phone continues to ring. Hitoshi pulls away, drawing a line of saliva with him that connects to your bottom lips. He then pulls your top up to reveal your soft, juicy breasts and hardened nipples.

You gasp as he leans down to begin caressing and showing your titties some love, sucking and tugging on the nipples with his teeth. “‘Toshi,” you moan. “Baby, no, we don’t have time.” Your hands raise to push him away, but they just tangle in his short, lavender locks.

His violet eyes flick up to meet yours as he pops one of your nipples out of his mouth. “We’ve got more than enough time. Just shut up and let your man take care of you.” He continues his pleasurable assault on your tits just as your phone begins ringing, filling the bedroom with the sound of ‘The Boy is Mine’ by Brandy and Monica.

“I-It’s Mina,” you breathlessly say. You reach one of your pudgy arms out to reach your phone. “I need to—“

“No.” Hitoshi’s voice is firm and not with the bullshit. It shocks you into silence and causes warmth to zip through your belly as it usually does. He looks up at you from your chest, his eyes nailing you to the spot. “What do I have to do to take that damn phone off of your mind? You got any ideas, babydoll?”

He sits up, straddling you and giving you a very nice view of his body and hard cock pressing against his briefs. You instantly feel yourself throb and get wet not just at the sight of the tent in his underwear, but all for the idea he’s got in store for you.

You can tell just what he wants by the smirk playing on his lips and the way his eyes have darkened. He knows you want it too. You need to feel like you’re under his complete and utter control, walking through the fog that he holds your hand in.

Your arm slumps against the bed, defeated. “Fine,” you sigh. “But only for the hour.” Hitoshi gives you a big, sexy smile that turns you on immediately like a light. Immediately, he goes to the bedside and fetches his scarves that he wears with his hero outfit.

They don’t just work nicely for combat when fighting villains. They also make for great restraints. Your heart pounds vigorously and does mini somersaults as you watch Hitoshi mount you and begin tying your wrists to the headboard. His hands move expertly, making the finishing knot tight enough to keep your hands tied but not tight enough to hurt you.

Once he finishes, he sits back and admires his handiwork…and you. “That’s my girl. Just hold still and look at me…thaaat’s it.”

His violet eyes begin to glow, piercing deep into yours as if he is trying to unravel the mysteries of your soul. You allow him to, letting yourself relax under his hypnotizing gaze. It doesn’t take long for your body to loosen and your head to fog as you fall deep under his spell aka his quirk.

Hitoshi only wipes your brain enough to take away the anxiety surrounding not answering or being near your phone and replaces it with him. Only him. When he finishes, you feel as if you’ve just smoked a blunt, your body and mind relaxed.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his eyes searching your face.

You relax against your binds, your muscles like putty. “Good, Daddy,” you reply, your voice breathless and soft. “Really, really good.” A slow, stupid smile stretches across your lips, feeling giddy and at ease.

Hitoshi smiles, immediately stripping off his shirt to reveal his beautiful body and tattoos to you. ”You’re about to feel even better.” And that’s a fucking promise.

Minutes later, you’re naked and your legs are wrapped around Hitoshi’s head as he slurps and sucks on your pussy, his tongue fucking your hole so skillfully that you can’t keep your voice down. “Oh, my God ‘Toshi, yes!” you cry out. “T-That’s so good, ohhh, fuuuck yes!”

You have no consciousness or self control. You can think about nothing but your husband and his mouth making you feel oh-so incredible. He peers at you from between your thighs, his tongue slashing against your clit. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums. “You’re makin’ such pretty sounds for me, babydoll. Keep it up. That’s exactly what I wanna hear.”

His pillowy-soft lips begin to gently suck on your clit over the hood of your pussy lips, sending shivers and sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You tug at your binds, your body unable to keep still from the pleasure. It twists like you’re possessed and your back arches off of the bed as if a demon is being expelled from you.

Only Hitoshi can be the one to release you. Only he can make you so insane like this, damn near seeing heaven’s gates with his lips, tongue, and fingers as he replaces his tongue to flick and rub your clit.

Sloppy sounds begin to drift through the air as his mouth moves faster in an effort to make you explode. It doesn’t take long for that feeling of your peak to near, causing your body to tense. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming!” You gasp. “Fuck, Hitoshi, yes! Please, Daddy, let me cum!”

You know the drill and that’s why you beg. Hitoshi knows that you won’t cum because of his quirk. He has to order you to do so. It’s a little game that you play together and he always wins. So when he finally feels like you’ve had enough, he looks up at you, his lips glistening with your juices.

“Cum,” he orders, his voice echoing in your head.

Like a button being pushed to activate something inside of you, your orgasm is triggered and you cum in your husband’s mouth with a choked moan. Hitoshi gladly slurps up what you offer him as your body shakes and thrashes against his mouth, the aftershocks taking over.

Your loud moans die down into soft groans and sighs while Hitoshi hums appreciatively against your pussy. Once your orgasm high fades, he pulls away and licks his lips clean of you. He stares down at you like a starving man and you’re a dessert plate.

“Look at that face,” he chuckles. “You’re so cum drunk, it’s adorable. I bet you want more, right?” You nod, unable to let out nothing but a soft whimper. Your man doesn’t like that.

He takes a handful of your braids and harshly tugs on them, causing you to gasp at the sharp sting. “What was that?” He growls, getting reeeeal close to you. So close that you can smell the mint gum on his breath.

Your stomach flips and your pussy gushes despite the orgasm it just had. You love it when he gets like this. “Yes, Daddy, I want more.” He smiles and presses a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. “That’s my good little kitty. Now come here.”

He unties your wrists and gives you time to recover before flipping you on top of him. You giggle, settling down onto him with your plump ass in his face. His hands come down to smack it, watching it recoil deliciously for him. “You’re just too fuckin’ perfect,” he sighs. “I can’t believe I have to go into work and give up this for an hour.”

He adjusts underneath you so his cock is in your face, only separated by his underwear. “Take me out, baby,” he raspily orders you. You do so, peeling his briefs off of him to reveal his long, thick cock dripping in precum for you.

While you spit on your hands and proceed to stroke him, he begins to eat you out again, flicking his tongue against your overly-sensitive clit. “Hitoshi,” you whimper. “P-Please go slow. M’sensitive.”

SMACK!

He begins to do that ‘thing’ that you like—where his big, fat cock bobs without him using his hands or hips to do it. Your eyes grow big, hypnotized by the lewd movement. “As long as you do a good job suckin’ this cock,” he huskily says. “Think you can do that for me, kitty?”

You look back at him, knowing he loves it when you do that. “Yes, sir.”

Minutes later, you’ve got your throat full of his cock while he plays with your pussy, his fingers gently stroking your clit in semi-circles. You indulge in his delicious sounds and the way his toes curl as you bob your head up and down along his length, taking him in and out of your tight, wet throat.

“Such a good little slut,” he groans. “Your mouth was made for me, baby I swear.” You begin to take him deeper, coaxing him to use your mouth for his pleasure. He catches on immediately. “Oh…you want me to fuck that gorgeous face? Say no more.”

He lifts his hips up and begins thrusting into your mouth, plunging his cock deeper and deeper into your throat. You begin to gag along his length, but you never tap out. You take all of him, desperate for more.

“Yeah?” he chuckles. “You like that? This pussy certainly seems to—she’s so wet for me.”

He begins to eat you out, swirling his tongue inside of your wet hole and nudging his nose against your clit. As you indulge in each other and your tastes, the sound of a buzzer suddenly pierces through the air.

Hitoshi’s iPhone alarm. He sets it every morning when he wakes up or before a late shift when he needs to rest beforehand. He doesn’t want to oversleep. You pop off of his cock, catching your breath. “T-Toshi, your phone!” you moan. “You have to get ready!”

But Hitoshi never moves, his voice muffled by your thighs as he continues to eat you out. “Don’t care. Now cum for me.”

And like a puppet on a string, your body does exactly as your man wants it to.

You grind your hips shamelessly into his mouth as you have your second orgasm, pleasure zipping through you as fast as the speed of light. You moan and sob to the ceiling as you cum all over your husband’s waiting mouth, his cock throbbing and pulsing at the sound of your sweet, sexy moans. At some point, his alarm stops and all that fills the air are the sounds of his sloppy pussy-eating and your moans.

You think that Hitoshi will see how exhausted you are as your second orgasm fades. You think he’ll see that this is enough and your pussy can’t take another orgasm…but as usual, you’re wrong.

Hitoshi is a greedy lover. “Nicely done, gorgeous,” he chuckles. “You listen so well to me.” He begins to fuck your hand wrapped around his cock, groaning as he does. “You’ve still got somethin’ to take care before I leave, kitty, don’t you?”

And like an obedient submissive for your Dom, you turn to him and nod. “Yes, Daddy,” you obediently say.

Gently, you lift yourself up with Hitoshi’s cock still in your hand. Slowly, you sit yourself down and take the head inside of the wet, quivering depths of your pussy. You both moan at the sensation, especially as he gets deeper and deeper, sinking inside of you as you sit on it fully.

Desperate and needy, you begin to bounce on his cock. It is slow at first, but gradually, you grow frantic and begin to fully bounce on him, your tits jiggling and your pussy open for him.

Hitoshi grabs your tits and massages them as you bounce on him, watching your ass jiggle and shake as you take his cock.

“That’s. Fucking. It,” he growls, each word punctuated as you come down. “Such a. Good. Fuckin’. Girl!” He wraps a hand around your braids, tugging them back. “You love takin’ this big dick, don’t you? Much better than a phone, right?”

You can’t agree more with that. “God yes!” You practically sob. “Yes, I love it!” Your hips begin to grind as you ride your husband’s dick like you stole the damn thing, pleasure zipping throughout your bones and muscles.

Suddenly, the sounds of your mixed moans and sex are interrupted by your ringtone again. Mina is calling again. You look towards the glowing screen, but Hitoshi stops those thoughts by wrapping a hand around your throat. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it,” he growls. “I’m about to break that phone if you keep playin’ with me.”

The phone continues to ring, rudely puncturing the air and ruining the atmosphere. “B-But—“

You squeak as you’re suddenly picked up and placed on all fours on the bed. Face down, ass up. Just the way Hitoshi likes to fuck.

With his cock still inside of you, he grabs your hips and begins to draw himself out of you “Or do you not wanna cum?” he asks. The loss of that feeling sends you spiraling. “‘Toshi, no!” You beg and plead. “Please don’t stop! I’m sorry!”

Hitoshi slides back home inside of you, drawing a loud moan out of both of you. “You’re what?” he firmly asks. “Say it again.” His hips begin to piston in and out of you at a slow but hard pace, stretching your pussy out and abusing your G-spot in the best way possible.

You gasp, moan, and wail into the bedsheets, your hands gripping the sheets in an effort to keep yourself from exploding. “I-I-I’m sorry!” you sob. “I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

Hitoshi places a foot on the bed and begins to fuck you silly, his cock stroking your insides and filling you up over and over again. “Keep sayin’ it,” he demands, his voice low and deep. “Tell me you’re sorry for ignoring me. That you’re sorry for bein’ a little brat all the goddamn time. Say it if you want more of this cock.”

You would say that you’re a cow and can moo if he ordered you to. “I’m sorry, ‘Toshi! I won’t be a brat anymore, I promise! I’ll be your good girl!”

The tears that have begun to prick at your lashes wet your lash line. Hitoshi reaches down to wipe one away, sucking on his finger. Freaky ass bitch. “You are my good girl. You just need to be reminded sometimes.”

He goes faster, harder, drilling your pussy into the bed. “So you’re not gonna be a brat no more? You’re not gonna be in your phone while you should be fucking me, right?”

“No!” you wail. “No, I promise, Daddy, oh, my God, I’m gonna cum!” Your words come out in a rushed, rapid sentence as your moans grow louder and your third orgasm of the night peaks.

“Do it,” Hitoshi growls, his voice deep in your ear and echoing in your head. “Cum for me and I’ll forgive you. C’mon, baby, give it to me. Do it for me.”

His voice and his cock demand you to have your final orgasm of the night. As soon as it hits, it is intense and abrupt. You let out a loud moan of your husband’s name along with a string of sobs as you cum all over his cock. Hitoshi chases his orgasm with yours, your pussy clenching around him and stroking his orgasm out of him.

“I’m gonna cum,” he moans. “Stay right there.” You do as you’re told and stay still even as your pussy quivers and throbs around him, overstimulated by his rough fucking. “Cum for me, husband,” you purr. “I’ll take it all. I always do.”

That is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Hitoshi. He grabs his arms around you and holds you tight as he cums deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his spunk. You let out a delirious giggle as he cums, the high of his sex and the orgasms washing over you.

When your dual highs fade and you come down from the clouds, Hitoshi peppers your face and neck in kisses. “My perfect little wife,” he sighs. “My kitty. My good, good girl.”

You shiver and melt at his words and under his lips, feeling his quirk begin to fade. Once it does, Hitoshi lays you down under the sheets and presses himself against you. You curl into him, spooning with him. “That was much better than Pinterest,” you softly say.

Hitoshi’s raspy laugh makes your stomach joyously flip. You tilt your head up to share a kiss with him, but the sound of his alarm stops him. “Ah, shit, I’m late,” he groans. His hand shoots out to slam on his phone screen, stopping the sound.

He turns over to face you, giving you a lazy smirk. “Might as well take my time then.” He kisses you and trails his lips down to your neck, sending goose pimples across your skin. “But what about—“

Your phone rings again and this time, Hitoshi lets you answer it. You moan weakly as he begins to massage one of your breasts, his thumb playing with one of your hardened, brown nipples. “It’s Mina,” you giggle and shush him. He gives you a wink as you answer the phone. “Hi, hon, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, hey, I’ve been calling you!” Mina says. “Where’s Hitoshi? I’ve been trying to reach him. We’re supposed to patrol tonight.”

“Pssst.”

Hitoshi motions for you to give him the phone. When you hand it over, he then crooks his finger in a come hither motion towards you, exciting you. ”Yes, sir,” you giggle.

Like a moth to a flame, you draw yourself to him and begin to kiss, touch, and stroke him to your heart’s content while he keeps his voice level on the phone. “Hey, Pinky, it’s me,” he says. “Sorry about the confusion. I got caught up in something.”

That overnight shift never happened, by the way.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #plus sized reader #hitoshi x fem!reader #hitoshi x black reader #shinso x black reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha smut

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sleekervae · 11 months ago

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New York Romantic .1

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: a young actor moves across the hall from an aspiring ballerina. (college au kinda)

word count: 1562

a/n: i've had this idea knocking around in my brain for a few days and finally got to penning it down -- enjoy!

August 2016

The sun stretched its golden rays across the morning sky in New York City, the last embrace of summer's fading heat lingered in the air. The city bustled under a whispering breeze that carried the promise of change, as tree leaves, once adorned in vibrant green, began their slow transformation into a canvas of crimson and gold. Amidst the streets, a serene anticipation filled the air, capturing the essence of a city transitioning as the summer activities came to a close and the kids were dreading the return to school.

The wheels on Tom's luggage clacked against the cracks and bumps in the concrete sidewalk, bleary and tired eyes scanning between his phone and the address placards on the various condos. He knew he should've taken a cab, but the bus was so much cheaper and Google indicated it was only a five minute walk to his new living quarters anyway.

He finally stopped in front of a brick building, the address placard worn and rusted from the elements but the numbers matched up with that on his itinerary. The other cue that gave it away was the variety of art pieces in windows and hung over bannisters and fire escapes. Tom lugged his bag up the three stone steps and ducked inside.

The lobby was pale, dingy and in dire need of a fresh coat of paint; not to mention the air held hints of mothballs and burnt microwaved popcorn. An older woman was sat behind a desk, reclined in her chair while glazed eyes were focused on her computer screen. Tom approached slowly, hoping his smile could cover the exhaustion hiding in his face.

"Hello,"

The woman's eyes were the last to focus when she turned her head, blinking over her glasses and a warm smile graced her face, "Oh, hello! You must be... erm..." she suddenly grabbed a clipboard and scanned the tiny text, "... Jacob Nielson?" she spoke in the classic Brooklyn accent with exaggerated vowels and nasally undertones.

"No," he shook his head politely, "My name's Tom. Blyth," he replied.

She scanned her list with her pen, gasping aloud when she found his name, "I see, now! Very nice to meet you, my name's Doris -- I'm the super here. You're my renter from London, right?"

"Yeah. Well -- Yorkshire specifically,"

"I didn't do so well in geography, honey. Have mercy," Doris replied as she stood up, heading for the wall of cubbies behind her, "So tell me, which insane asylum are you checking into?"

" -- Excuse me?"

"What school are you attending?" she asked again, her fingers flourishing across the cubbies.

Tom nodded, "I'm starting at Julliard next week. I'm an actor," he replied.

Doris scoffed, "Yeah? You and everybody's dog, honey," she pulled a key from a specific slot and returned to the desk, "But you got a nice face, maybe you'll luck out,"

Tom wasn't sure whether or not he should've taken that as a compliment, so he simply smiled back and accepted the key, "Um, thank you,"

"You're on floor three, room 14. Your roommate should already be moved in, he can give you a tour of the place," she explained, "If you need anything, leaky faucets fixed and whatnot just come down and see me,"

"Thank you, Doris," he took his bag and started for the elevator on the right of the room, but Doris called out to him again.

"Hold on, handsome! Elevator's broke! Hasn't worked since Giuliani was mayor," she pointed to the left, "Stairs are over there,"

Tom huffed under his breath; he was tired and the last thing he wanted was to lug his suitcase up three flights of stairs. Nevertheless, he gave Doris one more polite grin as he started for the staircase.

The sun cast stark patterns across the stairs, the skewed silhouettes of the window panes interrupted by Tom's own shadow as he made his trek up. He hadn't at first registered the thundering of footsteps above him until a group of kids rushed passed him.

"C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" The stairwell was relatively narrow, arms and bodies knocking into Tom until he nearly slipped and his grip loosened on his suitcase. The suitcase went tumbling down the stairs, smacking hard against the opposing wall and the latches burst open. His belongings spilled everywhere.

Tom grumbled to himself, trekking down the stairs again to clean up the mess. One of the kids however hung back, trailing behind her group but she'd witnessed Tom's misfortune. She double backed up the stairs, staring in astonishment at the clothes and knick knacks, then at him.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Tom was crouched over the ground when he looked up, coming face-to-face with the concerned expression of a young brunette. She was lean and petite, dressed down in denim shorts and black tank top. Her converse had two different coloured laces, one red and one yellow. He found that peculiar.

"I'm alright," Tom assured her, "If this is the worst thing that happens to me today, then it's not such a bad day, right?" he tried to laugh it off.

The girl simpered, "Sure," nevertheless she crouched down to help him. One of her friends called out from below.

"Noelle! C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" she shouted.

The girl -- Noelle -- shouted back, "Go ahead, Bianca! I'll catch up with you guys!"

"But the movie starts in an hour! It's take forty five minutes from here, man!"

"It's twenty minutes of previews, anyways!" she turned back to Tom, her cheeks tinting bashfully, "Sorry about that,"

"Don't worry. You should go with your friends, I'll be fine," he replied.

Noelle scoffed, "Can I trust you with a secret?"

"Sure,"

"I hate horror movies,"

Tom smiled, "And lemme' guess: they're going to see a horror movie?"

"Don't Breathe. Some kids break into a blind guy's house and he ends up killing them all and quite frankly -- I can go my whole life without more nightmares," she replied, a coy smile playing at her lips.

"Don't half blame you. I'm not the biggest fan, myself," he said, "Do you live here?"

"Yep. That nutcase shouting at me was my roommate," she replied, "Sorry, I didn't get your name,"

"Tom,"

"Very nice to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances," she chuckled back.

"Don't worry about it -- Noelle," he grinned.

She helped him clean up and pack his things, leading him back upstairs to his room. He assured her he could manage but Noelle insisted, saying it was the least she could do for his trouble.

"Room 14?" she cocked a brow when he told her, the corners of her lips pulling back to bare her clenched teeth.

"Yeah. What's wrong?" Tom asked apprehensively, "I don't have a serial killer for a roommate, right?"

Noelle shook her head, "No, no, you get Sunny. And he's just like his name -- absolute sunshine human being,"

"... I sense there's a 'but' coming," he trailed.

"He's a scholarship violinist, he's brilliant. And he's so brilliant because he practices at all hours of the night," she explained, "... All hours. You might wanna invest in some noise cancelling ear plugs,"

Tom nodded, relieved that at least his new roomie didn't sound like a dickhead, "Thanks for the advice,"

They stopped in front of the door, a worn brass 14 glinting subtly in the light. Tom fished out the key from his pocket, "I guess this is me,"

"Oh, damn," Noelle huffed, glancing at the door across from them, "You get the insane neighbours,"

His eyes flitted between her and the door, "... Whatcha' mean by that?"

Noelle pulled a key from her pocket, "Well, they're dancers for one. So they're always playing music, talking shit, burning their instant noodles because they're half-daft," with that she shoved the key into the lock and twisted, and sure enough the door opened.

Tom glanced at her, sheer amusement crossing over his face. He simpered under his breath, "You're my half-daft dancer neighbour who burns her instant noodles?"

"Unfortunately for you," she confirmed, half smirking.

"And how does one burn their instant noodles?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," she closed and locked the door again, "But I'll let you get settled in. If you need anything at all, you can just pop over,"

"Thank you, Noelle," he smiled, "And thanks again for --" he stopped suddenly when he heard a faint violin melody from the other side of his door. It was a beautiful melody nonetheless, and it had him intrigued, "I suppose that's my roommate?"

Noelle nodded back, "Yep. I promise you, he's a sweetheart," she started walking backwards towards the stairwell, "I'm sorry again about earlier,"

"Don't give it a second thought. Have fun at your movie," he replied.

She giggled sardonically, "Oh trust me, I'll have a blast. I'll see you around, Tom,"

Tom gave her a small wave, watching her until she disappeared around the corner, could hear her shoes squeaking as she trotted down the stairs. He couldn't deny he found her quite a looker, a small part of him giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting to know his new neighbour. The violin melody continued to play on the other side of the door, and taking a deep breath for confidence, he pushed the key into the lock and opened the door...

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #original story #original female character #imagine blog

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 6 months ago

Text

This is kind of part 2 of my last post. Content warning of internal Homophobia.

******

Sirius couldn't shake that image from his brain. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw Remus and Emmeline, laughing, kissing, hugging. Happy as a couple and he couldn't bare it. Sirius didn’t know why. It was driving him crazy.

It was almost carefew on that Saturday night. And Sirius had decided to ditch his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for games and drinks. He got to his dorm with the excuse of being tired. He desperately needed a cigarette. One glance to Remus's bed and he knew where to find some.

Remus was taking too long to return from his date with Vance. Which meant that everything was going well and he was having a great time. And that thought annoyed Sirius to the core. There was something about Emmeline that he didn't like. She was too upfront, wild and outgoing for Remus.

When Sirius found a new pack of fags in Remus's drawer, he stopped for a minute when he saw one of Remus's sweaters laying on his bed.

Sirius didn't know what possessed him in that moment. But he had the urge to grab it and sniff it. It smelled exactly like Remus. That sweet men cologne and chocolate. It made Sirius miss Remus somehow.

The sweater was so soft and warm. And the night air was cold as Sirius opened the window to smoke, so he put it on.

It was fine. Sometimes the Marauders shared clothes. Remus wouldn't mind if Sirius borrowed it. Sirius felt good in it somehow. And the idea of Emmeline using Remus's clothes made him so angry that he didn't take it off.

Sirius started chain smoking lost in thought. His mind kept repeating everything that had happened over the summer with his family. How Orion had gone wild with the mere possibility of his son and heir being different. How Walburga had said nobody was going to love him for real. The scared look of Regulus as he left the house.

Sirius had tried to distract himself since term started. Fooling around with The Marauders as always. Making that stupid bet with Peter. And spending as much time with Remus as possible. Because Remus made him feel good. Remus gave him peace. Remus gave him joy.

And even if James was and would always be his best friend, Sirius had been getting closer and closer with Remus lately. Maybe that was why he missed him tonight. Even cigarettes tasted better with him.

An hour later, Sirius jumped when he heard the door bursting open. Remus himself was crossing the door with a foolish smile on his face. Sirius realized his date with Emmeline had caused that.

When Remus noticed Sirius, his smile became smaller.

"Hey" Sirius said, trying to seem unbothered.

"Hey" Remus answered as he closed the door "Where are the others?"

"Girls' dorm, playing Monopoly or something"

"Why aren't you there?"

Sirius shrugged as Remus walked to his bed.

"Got bored" Sirius turned to look when Remus was taking his jacket off. "How was your date?"

Remus twisted his mouth before answering "It was fine. I had a lot of fun"

Sirius felt a knot on his throat.

What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you?

Sirius had acted like a dick when Emmeline asked Remus out. All possessive and jealous. Sirius didn't know why it bothered him so much. But Remus had been right to get angry. It was none of his business. If Remus fancied that bird, it was not Sirius’s problem.

"Cool" Sirius replied as he looked away into the window.

"Are those my fags?" Remus asked with a smile as he walked towards him.

"Sorry I'll pay you back, Moony"

Remus took a seat on the chair next to Sirius’s bed. The window was just next to them. Remus's curls flew in the wind.

"Just give me one, you thief" Remus let out a little laugh. Sirius smiled as he gave him the pack "I see you took my sweater as well"

Sirius’s cheeks burned. He felt a bit dumb and embarrassed.

"Is this yours?" Sirius asked innocently "I was feeling a bit cold and found it lying around" he shrugged, faking indifference "Want it back?"

Remus shook his head with a smile "It's fine, Pads"

Even if Remus was acting normally, Sirius knew he was still angry for the other day.

"I'm sorry, Moony"

"Don't worry about it" Remus said "We all share clothes at this point. I think I'm wearing Peter's socks actually. And I took some of James's cologne. The expensive one..."

"No" Sirius snorted "I am talking about the other day. For acting like a dick. With all the Emmeline stuff..."

"Oh!" Remus nodded as he took a drag "It's okay"

"You were right" Sirius said "I was a bit selfish"

Remus waited for Sirius to continue.

"You guys are my family, Moony" he continued "Not the Blacks. You, The Marauders..." Sirius looked up to make sure Remus was listening. When Remus nodded, Sirius carried on "I have to admit that you being girl-crazy makes me really scared"

"Scared of what?"

"Of being left alone!" Sirius snapped then sighed "You don't get it, Moony" he could feel his eyes with tears "James is amazing, handsome and heroic. A dream for every girl. Good thing Evans is finally realizing that.... Peter is pretty funny and very convincing. He will flirt with lots of girls and actually find someone eventually..." he chuckled sadly "And you... You, Moony. You are so special..." Sirius dared to look at him. And Remus seemed overwhelmed, pendant of every word "You have no idea how special. I mean I wouldn't be surprised if there is a long line of girls pinning for you after Vance" Sirius looked away as he felt himself blush "You're not only sweet and incredibly funny. But you're terrifyingly hot"

It was Remus's turn to blush. He did it in an adorable way even.

"It don't think so" he laughed softly.

Sirius let out a snort "You are terribly blind, Moony. And thick" he tutted.

Remus smiled shyly.

"My point is that you three can make anyone fall for you. But not me"

"Says the bloke who has all the female population after him" Remus teased

Sirius shook his head "They might want me for my looks, my money and name. Not because they actually like me. They couldn't never love the real me" he added remembering his mother's words.

"Don't say that"

"It's true" Sirius faked a tiny smile "That's why I got scared. Because I feel I am actually losing Prongs to Evans. And I will eventually lose Wormtail. But with you..." Sirius’s eyes filled with tears again "I couldn't stand to lose you, Moony. Not you. That's why I got crazy when Emmeline asked you out"

Remus moved to sit next to Sirius on his bed. So close that Sirius’s heart started beating faster. Remus smelled nice. Better than the sweater, the source.

"I could never leave you, Pads" he said "James and Peter could never leave you. We are The Marauders, for God's sake" he giggled "It had always been us before girls. Isn't that what says on The Marauders Code?"

Remus's eyes locked on the door where the boys had glued a paper with their rules. On the bottom of the list, the four of them had signed it. Sirius, James and Peter had done it at twelve. And Remus had joined a year ago when he arrived to Hogwarts.

Sirius smiled "We're not twelve anymore. Clearly girls are a problem now"

"It's part of growing up" Remus replied "And it's part of life, falling in love and settling with someone. For those who seek it"

Sirius was silent thinking he didn't want to grow up.

"James and Peter might have girlfriends or even wives some day" Remus smiled when Sirius shivered "But that doesn't mean they are going to stop loving you or stop being your friend"

Sirius turned to look at him "And you?"

Remus pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Because I really suffered when you left. Back when we were kids. I really missed you"

Only in a year, Sirius had gotten very close to Remus. Back when he was Rosie. They became inseparable too quick, that when The Lupins left out of the sudden, Sirius’s heart broke for the first time.

Remus's glistened as he placed his hand on Sirius’s arm.

"I promise no one is going to separate us again"

"Not even Emmeline?" It came out of Sirius’s mouth like a child's whine. It made Remus smile

"God, sorry" Sirius sniffed, looking away "If you actually fancy her, Moony. I swear I am not going to make a scene".

Remus was silent for a few seconds. And Sirius considered that he was right. Remus had feelings for Emmeline but didn't know how to say it. It would destroy Sirius. James with Evans. Peter with his unreachable girls. Remus with Vance. Sirius alone.

Remus with Vance?? No. No. No. Please no.

"Sirius" Remus finally spoke very low and carefully "I'm gay"

Sirius was genuinely speechless. His mind went wild with a million contradictory thoughts. For one side, the horrible things his parents had said about Alphard, because they thought he was gay. And for the other, it made Sirius feel an indescribable desire to hug Remus. To protect him. To love him more.

Remus would not be with Vance. And any girl for that matter. Which was good. But he could be with boys. If Remus was gay, there was this possibility of Sirius being interesting for him. And it increased the chances of Remus deliverately choosing someone else. Not because he was straight and Sirius was not a girl. But because he was gay and Sirius would never be what he deserved.

The thought of that chance. Of the possibility that they could kiss. That Remus might be able to like him, it scared the hell out of Sirius.

So the boy was very silent and still for a moment. He probably stopped breathing even.

But when he saw Remus's scared expression he forced himself to react.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sirius asked because he didn't know what else to say.

"Because I didn't know" Remus explained "I had been too busy thinking and being obsessed with my identity as a boy that I never thought about my sexuality"

Sirius kept quiet.

"I thought I liked both. Boys and girls" Remus continued "That's why I thought I fancied Emmeline... And I do" he nodded "I like her a lot. She is so pretty and funny, simply amazing. But I don't like her like that, you know?"

Sirius nodded understandingly. Remus was expecting an answer. Something.

So Sirius forced himself to be supportive. A better friend. Someone Remus deserved right now. Even if all the confusing feelings and thoughts were haunting him.

He smiled to show him everything was okay.

"Nothing changes, Remus" Sirius said "You're always going to be my Moony. Always"

And he meant that. Because nobody was going to break them apart. Nothing. Not even the sudden fear of Remus rejecting him or choosing some other boy.

What? It was stupid to think this way. Sirius wasn’t even gay, right?

Remus was smiling in relief.

"Thank you for telling me" Sirius added, patting his arm.

"You are my best friend after all, Pads" Remus confessed. Though he looked a bit sad. Maybe the fear of Sirius treating him differently was bothering him.

Sirius would never. He had acted like an idiot before. But he would never hurt Remus. He would always try to avoid him any suffering.

Sirius shivered a little as he dared to grab Remus's hand. He saw it as an assuring gesture. But when their palms touched, and their fingers interlocked easily, Sirius felt something crazy. Some kind of fire burning in his chest. A feeling of dizziness and excitement. Like when you are about to ride a roller-coaster and you are nervous but thrilled. Accompanied with the loud heart beats.

"Are you..." Sirius found his voice was shaking so he cleared his throat "Are you telling the others?"

"Eventually, yeah"

Sirius was scared of this new feeling. But at the same time he didn't want to let go. It felt amazing to have this connection with someone.

And they stayed like that for a while until they got comfortable not only with the hand holding but the silence. And they began playing with their fingers. Remus twisted Sirius’s rings. Sirius’s thumb caressed Remus's skin.

"I'm going to step out from the bet" Sirius whispered mainly to distract himself from his desires and to seem like everything was normal between them "Mary is pretty but I don't like her at all. Not my type"

And she would never make him feel like this. No one could.

Remus let out a little laugh.

"Peter is going to be happy to have Mary to himself"

"He didn't win though. I resigned, which is different!"

Remus smiled.

"Sure, Padfoot"

Then he closed his eyes as he got comfortable.

Sirius observed his curls, his freckles, his new scar, his long eyelashes, his rosy but dry lips. Remus was very attractive. Sirius got the strange desire to kiss him.

Faggot! His father's voice screamed in his mind Fucking pounce!

Immediately shook that thought away.

"Moony?"

"Mmm?"

"Promise me you will tell me if you fancy a bloke, okay?"

Remus was silent for a while. He seemed tense as he thought of what to say. Then he simply squeezed Sirius’s hand.

"Promise"

#maraudersera #marauders #muggleau #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #trans remus lupin #emmeline vance #jealous sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year ago

Text

Suzie, Do You Copy?

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 5.2K

warnings: cussing, steve and reader being in love (disgusting). should be it.

summary: Fourth of July is just around the corner. First month of summer moved by in a flash, your busy with work, trying to spend time with your friends and family, and making sure you get to smother your boyfriend in all the love he deserves. But just how long will this peace last?

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story- MY FAVORITE SEASON IS FINALLY HERE!!!!! if you have an updated username when you first joined the taglist please let me know what the old name was and give me to new one so you get the notifications.

this has been sitting since january 1st…

@alecmores 💗

series masterlist / steve harrington

previous chapter next chapter

With the mall buzzing with life on the final day of June, Scoops Ahoy luckily wasn’t packed to the teeth with customers. The booths and tables had barely a handful of occupants, a couple sharing a milkshake, friends laughing and gossiping over their cups or cones in one of the corner booths, and a single mom with her child who was sloppily indulging in their sweet treat. People come in and out of the store with their desserts to continue browsing the giant structure.

Robin was stationed at the counter, scooping orders and ringing their prices. Steve was busting some tables in the lobby before his fifteen started, and you were in the back checking the inventory. Somehow you got bumped to assistant manager, a mystery still swimming in your brain.

Even with it being summer in Hawkins, you had to bring a nice sweater with you for every shift since you’ll most likely end up in the freezer for a few hours, jotting down what flavors are running low, what requires reordering and what flavors need to be pushed more. Sometimes when you run into Robin or Steve after leaving the ice box, the nickname you gave it, they’ll make a quick joke about your flushed cheeks or bright nose.

“Can’t believe I still make you blush after six months of dating.” or “Christmas isn’t for another six months, Rudolph.”

Just as you finished your inventory check of the night, the solid metal door slamming close behind you, Steve pushes through the swinging doors for his break. He threw the dirty rag and disinfectant spray in a bucket beside the sink, as you dropped the clipboard to the tiny table in the middle of the room and stripped your jacket off your shoulders.

“So, what’s the news?” Steve always asked that same question when you were done with your checklist.

“Uh,” you leaned above the paper, eyes squinting a bit, “need more strawberries, a giant tub of raspberry cheesecake is set to expire next month on the twelfth, and we need more rocky road.”

You sat in the chair beside Steve, head resting in your palm with your elbow poking at the tabletop. Your eyes were drooping, wishing so badly to just rest your head against your pillow and knockout. Steve must’ve noticed your tiredness, his eyes peeking into your view along with a poke to your free cheek.

“Tired?” You just nodded. “Was it another nightmare?”

You hesitated in answering but knew Steve would find out either way, “yeah. It involved you and Will. Wasn’t pretty. I almost called-”

“Why didn’t you?” He interrupted. “Steve, I didn’t want to wake you, plus, it wasn’t crazy horrible. I was just… just shook me up a little.” A truth and a lie.

He sighed, “(Y/n),” he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your attention to him, “if you ever have a nightmare, whether I’m in it or not, please just call me. I will come over without hesitation, you know I’m always looking for an excuse to stay at your place.” A gentle smile brightened his face.

“You know my mom is okay with you staying over.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Plus, Jonathan probably needs space from me now and then.” Their relationship was still a bit rocky, but Steve was constantly working on fixing it, and Jonathan was just… allowing it to happen.

“Speaking of staying over,” you twisted in your seat so your knees were touching, “wanna come over tonight? After last night, I could use my human body pillow.”

Steve laughed, “oh, that’s all I am to you? A body pillow?”

“Well, among many other things,” you started to lean forward, hoping Steve got the message with your action.

And just when he started to meet you halfway, lips inches from connecting, the front bell began to chime repeatedly. Instead of your lips meeting in a sweet, sugar-tasting kiss, your foreheads connected. Steve’s eyes closed and he breathed a sigh through his nose, while you rubbed your lips together to stop a smile.

“Hey, lovebirds, your children are here.” Robin’s teasing voice floated from the front counter through the sliding window.

Steve reluctantly pulled away and threw open the divider. He rested his right arm along the white counter while his left was propped up. From your seat, you could see Mike, Will, Lucas, and Max formed in their huddle.

“Again? Seriously?” He took a glance at you then back to the four, “(Y/n) could ban you idiots.”

“I could, but I do have a bit of a soft spot for them,” you cringed at the flabbergasted look Steve was throwing you.

And when it looked like he was about to say something, another ding stole the attention. Mike’s bored face stared back.

“Well, except for Mike sometimes.” You mumbled before you motioned for them to come to the back.

You opened the back entrance, and one by one they entered the long hallway. With Will being the last one out, you ruffled his growing bowl cut, “you want a ride home?”

He walked backward, front facing you with his back to his friends, “I’ll stop by after the movie and tell you.” He then flipped around and hurried to join the other three.

Steve walked out in the hallway, hands resting at his hips, “I swear if anybody hears about this-” “We’re dead!” They all cut him off. “Have fun!” You chimed in.

You both waited until they turned the corner and were out of sight before heading back to the store. Steve took the free opportunity to pull you into his arms, back flush again his chest with his arms wrapped tight around your stomach. His head dipped down so his lips lined with your ear, “I think I was promised something before we were rudely interrupted.”

A joyful smile took over you, “oh really? I didn’t know we were handing out prizes at work now.”

“Oh, yeah. Helps boost employee morale or something.”

“Morale? Didn’t know we were in need of boosting.”

The two of you continue your slow waddle into the breakroom, Steve not losing his grip.

“Well, me, I personally could use a boost.” He finally freed you from his tight grasp, just allowing you to spin so you were chest to chest.

“And what could boost your morale, Harrington?”

“Hm?” He hummed with a finger at his chin, really playing up his act, “Oh! What about a kiss from a lovely girl? And may the lovely girl be you, Byers?”

You copied his theatrical gesture, brows furrowed, eyes squinted, with a finger pressed to your pursed lips in fake thought.

“Why not,” you faked enthusiasm that Steve fully saw through.

Steve went with his signature kissing maneuver. His large hands rested on the sides of your face, pinkies resting just under your ears, while his thumbs swiped across your plush cheeks. You would either hold his wrist as you pushed to your tip toes or Steve would already be leaning down and you would hold him in place with your hands at his face or arms wrapped around his neck. Today it was the latter, Steve being very eager to get his kiss before something or someone could stop it from happening.

And when his lips melted into yours, a steady rhythm was building, with hands wandering from their original spots. And just before it could go any further, your bliss was broken by someone loudly coughing. The two of you broke apart and turned to the point of noise.

Robin had a disgusted scowl painted across her face with her arms crossed over her chest, “Harrington, I need you up front with me while (Y/n) goes on her break.” She turned to head back up front before twisting back, “and (Y/n), you promised to keep PDA to a very low minimum at work. For my pure eyes.”

“Sorry, Robs.”

She pushed the saloon doors open when the ring of the front bell went off. You gave Steve one quick peck to the lips before pushing at his chest, “you heard the boss, go help up front.” With that you separated, Steve was forced to do his job and you grabbed your wallet so you could get your dinner at the food court, also for Robin and Steve.

“Okay, so I’m gonna head to the food court, you two want anything?” You said with your head poking through the divider.

Robin and Steve were both helping customers so you waited with patience for them to respond to you. As you waited, you unabashedly watched Steve while he scooped ice cream, and as you were mesmerized by his biceps, the lights turned off.

“That’s weird,” Steve voiced before walking to the switch.

You and Robin watched as he flicked it on and off, continuing to mess with it even though it showed no results. Your heart rate was slowly picking up speed with the length of the lights being off.

“That isn’t gonna work, dingus.” Robin pointed out.

“Oh, really?” Steve shot back before going back to flicking the switch even faster.

Still, nothing was happening, and he finally stopped. You curled your nails into your palms, needing to feel something. Steve went back to flicking the switch, slower this time. And on the fifth time, when he flicked the switch on the lights returned to life.

“Let there be light,” and he went back to the ice cream.

Robin just glared at him before turning to you, “what a guy,” And before she could make a snide comment, she leaned in closer, “are you- are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Yeah, yeah, just not a fan of the dark. Uh, you want- you want anything, from the food court?” Needing to change the subject quickly.

She looked at you with hesitation, but played along, “uh, Orange Julius. My usual.” And she turned to the register, Steve taking her spot.

“You want anything from the food court?” “A coke and fries from Burger King, please.”

With their orders, you left the shop to officially start your hour break.

…

You ate your pancakes and eggs in the slow morning quiet. Will was beside you as he leaned over and grabbed another pancake, but you smacked his hand causing him to drop it.

“What?”

“Save that for Steve. You got enough on your plate.” And you shoved a fork of eggs into your mouth.

You heard a door open and footsteps before Steve came into view at the end of the hall. You flashed him a smile as he took the seat across from Will, while he took the plate where the leftover pancakes and eggs sat.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers.” Steve’s voice was deep from just waking up.

She flailed a hand, “how many times do I have to tell you, Steve? You can call me, Joyce.”

“I’ll probably need a few more reminders before it sticks.” He chuckled and then reached for the syrup.

Soon Jonathan’s door cracked open and he was rushing out while finishing his buttons. Joyce rushed over to him, Jonathan slowing his steps. You noticed the faint lipstick kiss on his cheek, but no Nancy behind him.

“Wait up.” Joyce stopped him.

“Oh, no, I’ll eat at work. I’m late.”

“No, your cheek.” And she swiped at the makeup.

Jonathan moved her hand away, “all right, all right. I gotta run. See you later.”

“Tell Nancy she can leave through the front door next time,” you yelled before the front door shut with a slam.

“Ugh. Gross.” Will muttered as Joyce walked back to her seat.

“Well, I don’t think you’re gonna think it’s gross when you fall in love.” She looked from Will to you and Steve, “just look at (Y/n) and Steve. Don’t you want what they have?”

Will eyed the both of you, you and Steve stopped eating to hear what Will was gonna say, “what? Constantly eating each other's faces?”

“Dude, come on.” You groaned at Will while Steve just laughed.

“But, Will,” Steve stopped laughing and looked directly at Will, “I’m sure you’ll find a special girl later in life. You’re a catch.”

“I’m not gonna fall in love,” Will mumbled as he poured syrup over his food.

You heard the hidden pain in his words and understood why he thought he wasn’t gonna fall in love. You gave a slight tap to Will’s foot, his eyes looking your way and you threw a small smile to show just an ounce of your love and support for him.

“What- what happened here?” Joyce muttered as she walked near the fridge.

You and Will watched as she picked up a pile of papers and magnets that must have fallen off the fridge in the middle of the night. You saw how she looked at a drawing Will did for Bob, her hand lingering before joining the three of you at the table.

“So, Will, have any plans today?” You questioned him with a mouth full of pancakes.

“Dustin’s coming home from camp today, so we’re going to surprise him at his house. Ms. Henderson was really excited about the idea.”

“Oh! You guys should try and stop by today if you have time. I know Steve is just dying to see Dustin, aren’t you Stevie?” Your attention is on him now.

You spotted the slight flush to his ears but didn’t comment on it. Steve nodded his head while chewing his food before speaking, “yeah, really miss the know it all.” A tease mixed with fondness.

…

You had a lovely day off today, but sadly Steve and Robin had to work. So you dropped Steve off at the mall, drove off in his BMW, promised to pick him and Robin up at the end of their shift, and decided to keep Joyce company at Melvard’s. With Starcourt bringing newer stores and better work, downtown was empty. Ghost of stores that used to be full of business and life was now just rotting buildings with their windows papered over, and envelopes stuffed at the doorway.

When you pulled up to the storefront, through the window you watched Joyce hanging a giant sale sign, fifty to seventy percent off everything. It worried you knowing that Melvard’s was probably the next store to go out of business, the one store that Joyce has worked at for as long as you can remember. You knew small little Hawkins couldn’t stay the same forever, it still worried you every day.

The bell jingled at your arrival, Joyce already smiling at your visit.

“Hi, honey. What’s up?” She hopped off the little stool and met you halfway.

You shrugged, “wanted to keep you company for a bit. Jonathan’s at work, Will’s welcoming Dustin back, and my friend and boyfriend are working today.”

“Wha- what about your other friend? That- that Munson kid?” “Uh, I heard he went out of town for a few weeks or something.” You threw your arms over Joyce’s shoulders with your face pressed to her neck, “you don’t want your favorite child visiting you?”

Her arms wrapped around your waist, “well, I don’t see Will anywhere…”

You pulled away with a hurt gasp, “mother, I am hurt. Your only daughter, how could you?”

The two of you burst into giggles over your dramatics and before you could be carried any further the bell rang again. Two pairs of eyes landing on, “hi, Hopper.” A wave thrown his way which he returned with a gentle smile.

“Sorry for interrupting-”

“Oh, it’s fine, Hop. What can we do? Or whoever you need.” Joyce started to walk away to the cash register. You stayed behind, taking note of the nervous look on Hopper’s face. Joyce turned around at the quiet coming from the tall man and scoffed, “what now?” This must have been a recurring thing between them.

“(Y/n), could you grab the pricing gun and follow me?” And she headed to an aisle with Hopper in tow.

“So Mike was at the cabin again last night, the two of them in her room, being gross. They were giggling and kissing,” Hopper looked like he wanted to throw up at the memory, “and I always make sure that her door is open three inches, so I took a peek inside to make sure nobody was crossing a line. And when I saw them kissing and called them out-”

“Could you mark this side while I do the wall? Should be three dollars, everything.” Joyce stopped Hopper's story to instruct you. “You can continue, Hopper,” you said as you walked past him.

It was a few seconds before he spoke up again, “and- and then El, she just… slams the door. Right in my face.”

“Uh-huh?” Joyce absent-mindedly responded.

“You know, it’s that smug son of a bitch, Mike. He’s corrupting her, I’m telling you.” Footsteps sounded against the cool tile, “and I’m just gonna lose it. I mean, I am gonna lose it, Joyce.”

“Just take it down, Hopper.” Her voice sounded on the other side of your aisle.

“I need them to break up.” Hopper’s voice was firm.

“That is not your decision to make.” Joyce continued to price variest items.

“They’re spending entirely too much time together. You agree with me about that, right?” Hopper stood from his spot.

“Well, (Y/n) and Steve spend a lot of time together, at work and outside. And I mean, they’re just kissing, right?” Joyce pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s constant. It is constant.” Hopper sounded like he was gonna blow a top.

You were about to voice an opinion of yours, but Joyce beat you to speaking first, “Oh, you should hear what Will says about (Y/n) and Steve, especially this morning-”

“Mom! Don’t say stuff like that.” You groaned.

“What- I’m just trying to help Hopper with examples.”

“Yeah, but I’m- Steve and I, we’re adults. It’s a bit more acceptable than when two, what, thirteen-year-olds do it. Look it sounds nice that El has someone she likes being around, but she and Mike are practically attached at the hip. And also add to the fact that they can’t stop sucking face, it’s gross. I’m gonna have to side with Hopper.”

Hopper points a hand at you, “thank you. You see, it’s not normal, it’s not healthy.”

“Well, you can’t just force them apart. I mean, they’re not little kids anymore, Hop. They’re teenagers.” Hopper walked his way over to Joyce, you following behind, “and (Y/n), you and Steve aren’t adults yet, the both of you are still teenagers as well.”

“Steve’s birthday is next month, he’ll be nineteen.” Thinking that’ll help your argument.

“Yeah, well, when he hits twenty-one and when you hit twenty-one, I’ll consider the both of you pre-adults. And when you hit twenty-five, that’s when you’re a full-fledged adult. Now, Hop,” her attention is done with you and back to Hopper who was throwing something into the air before catching it, “if you order them around like a cop, then they’re gonna rebel. It’s just what they do.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“So what, I’m just supposed to let them do whatever they want?” Hopper flayed his arms out.

Joyce huffed, “no, I- I didn’t say that. I think you should… talk to them.” Pricing a box of Tampax.

“No. No. ‘Cause talking doesn’t work.”

“Not yelling. Not ordering. But talk to them. I do it with my kids, right, (Y/n)?”

Hopper turned towards you, waiting for any answer, “oh yeah. Little one-on-ones with each other. Heart-to-hearts, you know?”

Hopper’s eyes looked away from you for a moment like he was mulling over your words. “A heart-to-heart? What is that?” He fidgeted with his hat.

“Well,” Joyce jumped back in, “you sit them down and you talk to them like you’re their friend. I find if you talk to them like you’re on their level,” Hopper leaned against a beam, “then they start to listen. And then, you know, you could start to create some boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Hopper whispered.

“Yeah, but, Hop, it’s really important that no matter how they respond, you stay calm. You cannot lose your temper.” You noted the eye roll followed by his fingers tapping along the pillar.

“Uh… maybe you could do it for me? Or (Y/n), even, she could do it. El likes you.” A glance your way before it was back on Joyce.

“No. And I say that for both of us. You need to do this on your own, Hop.” “Besides, I’d rather stay on the outside of this situation, it’s not our place. You’re her legal guardian, Hopper.” You added your input, but Hopper just waved you off and looked to Joyce.

“No, no, yeah. Yeah, you could. You come over after work.” He stomped towards her.

“No.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, “no, it will only work if it comes from you. But…” She trailed off while walking to the counter, “maybe I can help you…” she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, “I can help you find the right words.” She began to scribble words down with Hopper leaning in.

You watched the two of them, how Joyce was mouthing words to herself as she thought about them before writing them on the page. Noting that Hopper’s eyes glanced in her direction every few seconds before looking away like he didn’t want to get caught sneaking looks her way. It felt a bit wrong to observe them, but there was something that just piqued your interest.

Before you got carried away in your people-watching, a blur of motion was caught in your periphery making you jerk your head towards the store windows. And you saw Nancy rushing away before she disappeared from view.

…

“I know this is a difficult conversation to have… but I hope you know that I… care about you very much. And I know that you-”

“Eye contact.”

Hopper sighed at Joyce’s interruption. You just sat beside her with your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I know that you… both care about each other very much- this does not sound like me at all.”

“Well, you never know. As long as you don’t strangle Mike, it’s a win.” You tried to joke, but it wasn’t working.

Joyce threw a hand over your mouth, “just keep going. Come on.” She encouraged him with a smile.

Hopper took a breath, “which is why I think it’s important to establish these boundaries… moving forward…” he looked down at the lined paper.

“No looking. You know this. Come on.”

“...so we can build an environment… uh… where we… all feel comfortable and trusted and open… to share our feelings- this isn’t gonna work.” Hopper stood from his seat and walked to the empty side of Joyce, “um, it’s not gonna work. It’s not gonna work.” He kept repeating.

“Yes, it will! I promise.” “Just gotta put a bit more… emotion into it,” again, Hopper wasn’t enjoying your criticism.

“Maybe I’ll just kill Mike. I’m the chief of police, I could cover it up.”

“I’ll be your alibi.” You said in all seriousness. You saw the shake of Hopper’s shoulders, a quiet chuckle.

“Come on. You got this.” Joyce clasped their hands together.

Again you watched as they held each other's gazes, neither one breaking or pulling their hands apart. You saw the tiny smile hidden by his thick mustache, you couldn’t see Joyce’s face, but you knew there was a similar expression gracing her face.

After a minute or two of the growing silence, Hopper broke it first, “you wanna have dinner tonight?”

And that was your cue to leave.

You jumped off the counter and made your way toward the entrance, “Uh, I gotta get going. Steve and Robin are probably missing my wonderful presence.”

Joyce broke her stare with Hopper, “Okay, honey. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah, if anything changes, I’ll call you. Bye Hopper.” He waved you off and you were out of the store and into the maroon BMW.

…

With the summer heat growing a bit more as the day went on, the mall was packed with dozens of people. Some just sit at the food court with a book in hand or a group of friends going from store to store with shopping backs held in their grasp as they chat away. Not a single one of them knew of the dangers that have slipped into Hawkins during the dead of night, the things you’ve seen and experienced. You wished you could live like them, oblivious and in peace.

In your spaced-out mind, you reached the brightly colored ice cream parlor in no time, brain lagging for a minute.

“-n). (Y/n), hello.” It sounded like you were underwater and whoever was calling to you was muffled by the waves.

The trance ended when the person shook your shoulder, head snapping in their direction with wide eyes.

“You okay?” Robin’s husky voice was a whisper.

You blinked a few times, “uh, yeah. Yeah, just- just tired, I guess.” You saw the look in Robin’s eyes, she didn’t believe you, “good shift?” You tried to change the subject.

She hesitated before responding, “busy as usual. Along with your boy toy not being able to stop crying for you.” A playful roll of her eyes.

You grinned at that, “Speaking of my ‘boy toy’, where is he?”

“Disappeared somewhere like ten minutes ago,” she shrugged.

You questioned it, but didn’t voice it, “wanna get lunch with us when you’re done? You wanted a ride home anyway.”

“I guess, but all hands within eyesight and no kissing… I’ll allow one cheek kiss. But after that, I’ll throw myself down the escalator if I’m forced to witness your sickening love.”

“Oh, that’s such a nice sacrifice on your part, Robin.” Stretching the sarcastic tone.

Again, she rolled her eyes and turned her back on you before pushing the backroom doors open. You followed a step behind and sat across from her, her legs stretched over the small square table. You swatted at her beat-up converses, “can you get your dirty feet off the table? We eat here.”

“And we also clean it, so it should matter.”

“Not all of us clean it…” you trailed off.

Robin just rolled her eyes at the comment. The two of you chatted a bit, bits of gossip Robin heard from passing customers, what you did while away from work and you made a light mention of the Mike dilemma with Hopper. A joke was thrown in here and there causing the both of you to release loud chuckles that presumably drifted into the dining area.

Your chuckles died off when you heard the hinges of the doors squeak followed by hands resting on your shoulders. You leaned your head back, your round dome mushing into starchy fabric, but you had a lovely sight before you.

“Hi, Stevie,” a beaming smile erupted.

“Hi baby,” he leaned down and kissed your forehead, “I’ve missed you.”

“Hmm, Robin told me you were, and I quote ‘crying for my presence’. Thought you could handle a few hours away from my quiet self.” A tilt of your head finished your sentence.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I always want to be around you. Like… you’re like air. I need you every second to live or I’ll die.” His thumbs swiped along your jawline.

You peered at him with wide eyes with your mouth agape, startled by this sudden admission. You wanted to make a joke, something to break the silence, but you knew if you joked when Steve just said those, it would leave cracks in his heart. So the most you could do at the moment was beam him a smile and twine your hands together.

“Ugh, I’m gonna barf.” Robin broke the lovely spell.

You bit your lip to stop the childish smile that wanted to follow her comment. Steve huffed and moved to the seat that was in the middle of yours and Robins. He ran a hand through his hair before moving it to his cheek and leaning into his palm with his eyes zeroed in on you.

“What?” You asked after a beat of silence.

You couldn’t see the smile, but you saw his cheeks move, “you’re just really pretty.”

“Well I think you’re pretty, without a doubt,” you tried to argue back, not being able to handle compliments thrown your way.

Steve shook his head, strands of chestnut hair touching his forehead, “nope. Nobody comes close to the beauty you radiate.”

You fidgeted with your hands before covering your face, not being able to handle the sweet honey dripping from Steve’s lips or the loving gaze that was staring down into your soul.

“Guys, what have I said? No PDA! For the love of my sanity, please.” Robin’s voice cracked at the end.

“We aren’t doing any PDA, Buckley. I’m just making sure my girl knows how loved and gorgeous she is.” Steve shrugged like it was nothing.

“Yeah, well it feels like I’m being forced to watch the two of you kiss. It’s so- ugh!” She threw her head back before smacking a hand into Steve’s bicep, “stop eye fucking her! I’m right here! Save that for private time, please.” Her hands clasped together, really begging for a reprieve from the two of you.

“Guess you don’t want a ride home then,” Steve spoke as he stood from his seat.

“Honestly if this keeps up, I’ll for sure just take the bus home.” She grumbled.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their friendly banter, the two of them firing at each other just as the other shoots back. You can’t help but think that these two people somehow became friends on their own, with very little push coming from your end. It made you happy, one of your best friends and your boyfriend getting along well with or without you around.

“Okay, okay. Let’s put the claws away and let's get food because I am starving.” You mediated the situation from going any further.

“Yeah, whatever. Harrington’s paying for me,” Robin walked away to grab her backpack. Steve was opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

You just held your hands up, “you were eye fucking me earlier, this would make up for it.” A stupid reason, but you knew Steve would give in either way.

And with a simple roll of his stunning brown eyes, you knew he caved. And pretty quickly, might be a new record.

“You’re very lucky that I would do anything for you.”

“And that includes buying Robin’s lunch. Like the good friend, you are to her.” A quick tap to Steve’s chest.

When Robin came back the both of you left Steve behind and walked out of the store with your faces close together as you gossip around the fast-paced bystanders. And if one of those topics involved Steve… he didn’t need to know any of the tiny details.

...

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#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x byers!reader #stranger things #stranger things series #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #The Byers Harrington Story

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ab4eva · 2 years ago

Text

‘Just Like A Woman’

Summary: A Las Vegas showgirl falls in love with a heartbroken Elvis Presley. He is unwilling (or unable) to love her back.

Warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, will eventually be nsfw, Priscilla doesn’t exist in this timeline.

Word count: 3k

Author’s notes: This idea came to me after reading the wonderful @missmaywemeetagain’s Pink Scarf series. Elvis and Reader were made for each other, and my brain went (spoilers sweetie) what if they didn’t end up together? What if Elvis had a love of his life that didn’t work out? He would be a completely broken man. Enter my little Vegas showgirl. This was going to be a one-shot, but I was itching to put out something new, so it will now be a 2 or 3 parter. Thanks to my Lovely Ladies of Graceland for the input, encouragement and love.

Las Vegas - August 1970

The door to your apartment slams and you cringe. Damn. You were hoping to be ready and gone before your roommate, Jane, got home. You sigh a little and continue applying your mascara carefully.

“Yoo-hoo, anybody home?” You hear her call out before answering with a “Yoo-hoo, in here!” of your own, steeling yourself for the inevitable barrage. She peeks around your door, her face bright and open, before observing your actions. Her face darkens a smidge but she keeps her tone light, “Where ya goin?” You hesitate a moment before answering, momentarily disappointed that you hadn’t come up with a better excuse, just in case.

“Just out,” you say, cursing yourself for sounding cagey. You are, and she knows it. She latches onto your tentative, vague answer and crosses her arms, looking surprisingly like your mother in this moment.

“Out,” she says pointedly, a statement.

“Mm hmm,” you hum, unwilling to take the bait. You don’t feel up for a fight, not tonight. You’re exhausted, it’s your one day off and you just want to live your life in peace, her distaste in your decisions be damned.

“Tell me again just why you think it’s a good idea to see Elvis tonight? Or any night?” She throws her hands up and the tone in her voice is one of disappointment and slight desperation. This argument is an old one, and you’re both tiring of it. You sigh, catching her eye in the mirror and put down the mascara wand in your hand.

“Jane,” you say pleadingly, “please. Please don’t start. I can’t do this tonight. I know how you feel about him, and I respect that. But…” you trail off, unable or unwilling to explain your reasons to her, again. Something in your face must stop the words that had been forming in her mouth, because she doesn’t say what you think she will. What she always says when you have this fight. She holds up her hands in surrender.

“OK. OK. I just….I just care about you, babe. And I…” she trails off.

“Don’t want to see me hurt,” you finish for her, your eyes still locked with hers in your bedroom mirror. “I know. Thank you,” you whisper. She sighs and shakes her head before turning and walking away, muttering to herself. You appreciate her concern, really you do. And if it was any other man she didn’t approve of, you might consider her words. But it isn’t any other man. It’s Elvis Presley. And his hold on you is so strong, so finite, you think even God himself couldn’t pull you away.

A black sedan is waiting outside your apartment building, right on schedule. The sweltering, late summer Las Vegas heat hits you full blast as you make your way to the car, and you’re thankful you wore one of your skimpiest dresses as sweat starts to collect on your skin during the short walk from door to car. Elvis always likes this dress on you. Not that he’s ever said as much. No, he isn’t really one for compliments. Or observations. Not with you, anyway. But you’ve seen the way his eyes grow a little wider whenever he looks you up and down in this dress, the way his jaw clenches taking in your long tan legs and bare arms, the small piece of silky fabric that barely covers your torso and not much else. You know when you’ve excited a man, and Elvis is always excited to see you in this dress. Besides, you want to look nice for him tonight. You haven’t seen him in a couple of months, not since he flew you out to Los Angeles just because he was a little lonely. Your stomach turns at the memory, that trip hadn’t gone as you’d expected. But you push those thoughts, and hurt that goes along with them, down. You don’t want to focus on that right now. You get to see Elvis again, and that’s the most important thing. The closer you get to the International Hotel the more the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter. You try and tamp down your expectations but you can’t, your excitement gets the better of you.

Elvis always invites you to the opening night of any Las Vegas engagement he does and it gives you a certain thrill to see him onstage, in his element, doing what he does best. Sure, you could attend more performances if you wanted, he’d arrange it in a heartbeat. But as it is your showgirl schedule at the Stardust keeps you busy, and when you’re not working, you’re with Elvis. And you’d rather be with him than watch him from afar. So it makes tonight a little special that you get to be in the audience, to take in the whole truth of him, to see him as he is meant to be seen. As the sedan rolls smoothly up to the entrance of the hotel, a valet hands you out of the car and onto the waiting arm of a member of the Memphis Mafia. This one is rather new, you’ve met him a couple of times but still don’t know him well. He’s young and kind of cute when he smiles at you, tucking your hand into the crook of his arm securely as he leads you into the hotel.

“Ready for the show, ma’am?” he drawls in an unmistakable southern accent, his hand moving to your back chastely as he guides you through the madness of the crowd. You swallow a giggle at being called ma’am and smile up at him, the excitement apparent on your face.

“Been looking forward to it all summer,” you say a little breathlessly. “I heard he’s added some new songs to the set?”

“Oh yes ma’am, you’re in for a treat tonight. The boss is fired up and ready to go.” You arrive at your designated seat, somewhere in the middle with a good view, and he holds onto your hand as you settle into the booth. “Do you have everything you need? I’ll be back after the show to take you upstairs.”

“You’re very kind. Thank you. Tell me your name again? I’m sorry, I’ve already forgotten it.”

“Alex, ma’am,” he says before nodding his head at you and disappearing into the crowd. You almost feel as if he should be tipping a cowboy hat in your direction, so southern and gentlemanly is he. These thoughts are interrupted by the showroom lights starting to dim and the heavy, gold curtain moving slowly upwards, revealing the massive stage. Your stomach drops and your heart beats a quick thrum in your chest. You shouldn’t be this excited to see him onstage again, not after what you and he get up to when you’re alone together, but you feel almost giddy, like a schoolgirl, at the prospect. Almost out of nowhere, Elvis saunters out of the wings and the audience goes absolutely wild. Women are yelling his name, already running past you towards the stage, eager to be as close to him as possible. The opening notes of “That’s All Right” start to thunderous applause and Elvis struts around the stage, a man on fire. He’s in top form tonight - witty, silly, energetic, engaging and sexy as hell. The truth you are unwilling to admit, even to yourself is - this is the Elvis you crave. The one you love. The one you want. But this is not the Elvis you have.

You push these thoughts to the back of your mind, along with every admonition Jane has ever given you. Elvis is back in town for a whole month, and you mean to make the most of your time together. With a little effort, you’re able to lose yourself in the music and the spectacle - laughing with the audience when he makes a joke or mouthing the words to “Viva Las Vegas.” A white hot flash of jealously sears through you when “Love Me Tender” starts, you know what’s about to happen and you feel a little sick at the prospect. Elvis begins making his way through the audience, kissing as many women as humanly possible as he does. You hold your breath as he gets closer and closer to your table. The crowd is a crush around him, reaching for him every step of the way and you put on your most dazzling smile, waiting for the sun to shine on you. Maybe he’ll kiss you this time, maybe he’ll treat you like one of the many nameless, faceless women he kisses every night. But he only glances at you as he passes, mild recognition dawning on his face too late, no love present in his glittering blue eyes. Bitter disappointment stings at your insides and you try and soothe yourself with the fact that you get him all to yourself tonight, in between shows and afterwards. The burning in your heart subsides a little, but a small, dull ache remains, a reminder that no matter how much you love Elvis Presley, he doesn’t - and can’t or won’t - love you back.

You really shouldn’t dwell on such thoughts, you knew what you signed up for. He’s holding up his end of the bargain and you’re trying like hell to hold up yours. You thought you could be one of those girls who just casually slept with someone and didn’t catch feelings. You desperately wanted to be one of those girls. It became apparent about 3.5 seconds after he first held you in his arms that you were a goner, well and truly lost. You should have walked out, right then and there, saved yourself a world of heartache. It must have been a cruel sort of fate that led you to a party at his penthouse one night, tagging along with friends, not expecting much. He’d just lost someone less than a week before. His true love, the love of his life, if whispered accounts by members of the mafia were to be believed. Oh, she wasn’t dead, but she was long gone. Gone from his life like she’d never even been there. Gone and left him a shell of a man, left you to pick up the pieces and put him back together again. You’d done a good job, as good a job as anyone could do when faced with an angry, bitter, devastated creature…not even a man, just a wounded animal lashing out at anyone who got too close.

He needed you, that much you could see in his eyes, plain as day. And if some small part of him needed you, maybe that wasn’t all bad. Maybe something could grow between the two of you - love, or something like it. Tonight all of these feelings come crashing down on your head, and it’s almost too much and you almost leave. But the promise of him holds you fast in your seat - the feel of his hard chest against your own bare one, the way his toned biceps flex and move under your hands, his soft, plush lips he uses anywhere on your body…anywhere except your mouth. It’s too intimate, he’s reasoned to you a dozen times, too painful, is what he really means. Too painful for him to kiss someone who isn’t her in his bed. It’s this thought, combined with the fact that you just saw him kiss two dozen women, all on the lips, that spurs you to order another drink. And another. Soon, you’re feeling very toasty, and more than a little giggly.

When Alex reappears at your side after the show, to take you upstairs, you’re more than a little wobbly on your feet, and he puts his arm around your waist to steady you.

“You ok, ma’am?” You see the concern in his eyes and wave him off.

“I’m fine…just fine. You’re sweet to worry, lost count of my drinks is all. I’m grand.” You giggle as you stumble a little and he catches you. “Take me to the boss man!”

He eyes you dubiously but helps you to the elevator and up to the penthouse suite, where he deposits you on the couch in Elvis’s room to wait for the man himself. Your head lolls back on the couch and the room is spinning and you really start to regret having so many drinks. You’re so out of it you don’t notice the door opening and closing quietly.

Los Angeles - 3 Months Ago

Elvis had called you in the middle of the night, the shrill ring of the telephone waking you from a dead sleep. It took you a minute to even register who was talking on the other end of the line, so excited and manic was their voice, their speech, talking a mile a minute.

“Elvis?” You’re still half asleep, groggy and unfocused, struggling to sit up in bed. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?” He didn’t usually call you, preferring instead to send telegrams or messages through his emissaries, so your heart was pounding with worry for a moment, before you finally grasped what he was saying.

“I need you…I-I-I need you in LA. Tomorrow. P-p-please darlin. I’m so lonely. I can’t sleep. I’m goin crazy out here…got some stuff I gotta be out here for and I just…I just can’t handle bein’ alone. Will ya come? Please?” He was practically begging you. He needed you.

You said yes, of course. One doesn’t say no to Elvis Presley. It wasn’t easy, arranging time off from work. You had to get several of the other girls to cover for you and in the end could only manage 4 days off. But he was happy enough to have you even for a couple of days, he said. He booked you first class on the first flight out the next morning and didn’t that make you feel special? Some random member of the mafia met you at the airport to pick you up, the first drop of disappointment landing coldly in your stomach despite the balmy California breeze. He had wanted you there so badly, had begged you to come…and he wasn’t even there to greet you? You convinced yourself you understood his reasoning on some level and pushed the feelings down, somewhere deep inside. You were in Los Angeles, you would have Elvis all to yourself for four whole days - nothing but sun and sex and sleep.

You could hardly wait as the car rolled to a stop before you were tugging the handle of the door open, practically flying out of the car and up the steps of Hillcrest House. You barely registered your beautiful surroundings, so excited to see Elvis you could barely stand it. It had only been three months since his last show in Vegas but that was three months too long for you.

“Elvis?” you called out, circling the living room, the kitchen, outside to the pool. It was almost a ghost town, the house so quiet and empty. Where the hell was he? Or any of his friends, at the very least?

“Miss?” someone said behind you and you jumped, turning around to see a kindly maid, holding out a telephone. “Mr. Presley is on the line for you.”

“Elvis? Where are you…I just got here and…” He cut you off, not even waiting for you to finish.

“Listen, honey, I’m sorry, I wanted to be there when you got in but the guys and I started talkin’ this morning and decided we felt like being in the snow today - we took the plane up north but don’t worry, I’ll be back by dinner. Just relax, make yourself at home and I’ll see you tonight, ok honey?”

The growing dread you’d felt ever since stepping off the plane was threatening to overwhelm you. But you swallowed your feelings, your disappointment, your hurt and cheerfully agreed to see him later. After all, isn’t that what he wanted? Isn’t that what you were there for? You’re supposed to be his good little girl who is happy and cheerful and doesn’t let her feelings get in the way. That was the arrangement. Something you had to remind yourself of more and more lately. You should have walked out of his hotel room last year and never looked back.

When dinnertime comes and goes that evening, you try not to worry. When midnight comes and goes, you try not to panic. When the next day comes and goes and you don’t see Elvis and you don’t hear from him and you’re just stuck in this goddamn California mansion alone, you try not to break down. You try and you fail. And when he doesn’t show up at all, you vow you’re done. No one deserves to be treated this way, not even a Las Vegas showgirl who is just one of Elvis’s many women. You’re on your way out the door to the airport, bag in hand, when the phone rings, and the maid answers - of course it’s for you. It’s him. You hesitate just a moment, your hand hovering over the receiver, before picking it up and slamming it right back down again. Damn the arrangement. And damn Elvis Presley. You were through.

Las Vegas - August 1970

The feeling of hands in your hair doesn’t startle you. In fact it has the opposite effect, it only serves to melt you further into the couch. Elvis’s fingers are long and cool and expertly move across your scalp, knowing the spots that make you purr, just like a damn cat. He’s had enough time over the past year to learn your body inside and out, learn what sends you to the moon, learn what breaks you. He takes great pleasure in watching you squirm, listening to you gasp and plead, feeling you tremble underneath his body.

“Someone’s feelin’ a little tipsy, hmm darlin’?” he murmurs. You blink your eyes open and Elvis swims into view above you. Your breath catches in your throat and your face flushes with heat. Turns out you aren’t through with Elvis Presley. Not even close.

PART 2

Tags (I used my taglist for my Tomorrow series - if you want to be removed from this one just let me know!): @jelliedonut @butlersxbirdy @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @powerofelvis @richardslady121 @meladollsims @godlypresley @isthlsfate @rjmartin11 @thatbanditqueen @ccab @mslizziesblog

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis imagine #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis smut #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis imagine #just like a woman #written by ab4eva

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heymeowmao · 4 months ago

Text

2024.06.28 - https://weibo.com/l/wblive/p/show/1022:2321325050344135590145

bgm: 唯一的回答 (No Matter), Men in Love OST

LYN: It’s lagging? If it’s lagging, close the window then come back in. It’ll probably be fixed, then. LYN: Hallo everybody, good evening. I am Modern Brothers Liu Yuning. Welcome! LYN: Long time no see. I haven’t streamed for a long time, right? Actually I am a little tired today, but I still wanted to come stream, more or less, and to give you some comfort.

C: Have you recovered from your cold yet? LYN: I was over it a long time ago! I was sick a while ago, but I’m fine now. Is the nasal tone too heavy? I’m just a little tired, but it’s okay. I’ve come to play. LYN: I need to keep up my KPI, otherwise I won’t have streamed all month. That’s a little inexcusable. I still have to stream. Just because I’m an actor and singer now, doesn’t mean that I can give up on streaming. I should at least keep my quota. LYN: I’m afraid that when the time comes Weibo won’t give me my Livestream King title. I’ll ask them, “Why was I passed up for the title of Livestream King this year?” and they will tell me, “You didn’t stream for the month of June.” There’d be nothing I could say to contest. So, since this title is mine, no one else should think of taking it away from me. ~There will come a day when I take back what’s mine. That’s right- the 2024 Weibo Livestream King (award)!”

bgm: 我只愿朝着光 (I Only Wish to Face the Light), BYOL OST

C: Is it raining daily in Hengdian? LYN: Not every day, but it’s the season for it so it starts to pour every so often. Lately I’ve been filming when it’s pouring rain, though. It comes and goes and comes and goes. It’s quite humid. C: Is it hot? LYN: Of course it is. Shooting a guzhuang drama in the summer is asking for punishment. Hot is one thing, but it’s also stuffy and humid. If you’re standing outside in those clothes, I guarantee that not even a minute later you’ll have sweated through the under layers. It’s that hot.

C: Lao-da, I’m still watching KSTLB. LYN: Ok. I took some time while I was eating to take a look, because I always watch the variety shows that I’ve taken part in. LYN: Friends- don’t spoil it! I’m sure there are quite a few who are watching my stream that still haven’t watched the 9th episode yet. You can’t expose my identity! Wouldn’t that negatively influence everyone’s viewing experience? If they haven’t finished watching or haven’t started yet, but already know the result, that will influence their enjoyment. It won’t be “fresh”. If you aren’t watching (or reading the spoiler comments) it’s okay.

C: I’m listening to YOLO. LYN: Very nice. Listen to what you want to listen to.

C: Pick up another variety show for later. LYN: It should be a music variety. I have a music variety for later, so I will still have a show. It’s about time for me to pick up a music variety, so.. Let’s just wait. LYN: I feel like I don’t have enough experience anymore. When I first debuted I was young(er) and full of energy. I didn’t care about a lot of things. But now I feel like my body can’t keep up. I can’t keep up, mentally. My brain is working much slower than it used to. I keep wondering- did I get dumber after having contracted Covid? I keep trying to find excuses for myself. After I got Covid, I became stupider and it feels like I can never get enough sleep. It’s been a long time since I recovered from it, but I still feel slow. C: You’re getting older. LYN: Did you think that could hurt me? Let me tell you- I am hurt. /laughs/ No, I’m sure it has something to do with my age. Your Ning-ge- /coughs, old man mode activated/- Your Ning-ge is getting old. I’m not the young boy I used to be. I’m not the young man who debuted in 2018, full of youthful energy anymore.

- /singing along to his OST, but coughs from the effort/ LYN: I was originally planning to come here and sing some songs, but I’ve found that my voice is not in the best condition for it.

C: Lao-da, make a heart if you see me. LYN: I can’t stand the people that come into my stream and try to exchange signals. My stream is for the general public, not for you alone. If you want to imagine that my stream is a one-on-one service, that’s okay, but don’t make me send you any signals.

C: Ning-ge, will your drama air in the second half of the year? LYN: I don’t know. When it all comes down, I’m just an actor. The broadcast schedule of a drama is not something I can determine, and it’s not something I am worthy of knowing. It sounds a bit cruel, but it’s the truth. Often times the actors don’t even know if or when their drama will air. We might only be notified a few days in advance, and told to record some promo video to post. We don’t normally get much advance notice. So.. wait. LYN: There’s that methodology isn’t there: “Your only job is to keep working hard, and the rest is up to Heaven’s will.” Was that cheesy? But the logic is that you just keep on shooting dramas, and people are bound to like one of them.

C: I’ve been in the midst of “archeology.” (looking up LYN’s past history) LYN: Ok. You can… but the workload is a lot. Jiayou. You work hard.

C: Ning-ge, I’ll see my test results the day after tomorrow. Can you wish me well? LYN: Of course, I hope that you will get a good score. I hope that your scores are high. Jiayou. I hope you can go to the school of your choice and that you can achieve everything you wanted. Jiayou. (x2)

C: Can you say something in English? LYN: OK. How is it? Didn’t that sound perfect? O-K. LYN: Very good. You are so beautiful. Very good.

C: What does that mutual stabbing in SJYM mean? LYN: What does it mean? It means that- what’s it to you? You can watch it when the drama airs. Are you expecting me to give you drama spoilers?? Ask, ask, ask. Do you think that’s something you should be asking?? You think I look forward to seeing a headline that reads, “LYN reveals the whole SYJM script online”?? How could I do that?! C: You’re so mean. LYN: Sorry. When people are tired and have low blood sugar they might tend to be more explosive. Excuse me. Allow me to reply to that question again. Someone asked, “What’s up with the three of you stabbing each other? Can you tell us about it?” My reply was perhaps a little abrasive, when I said, “What’s it to you?”. Let me reply properly, now… - /prepares/ LYN: What business is it of yours? :) LYN: Look, I’m asking with a smile. How gentle. LYN: What business is it of yours? If it doesn’t concern you, please don’t ask. C: Isn’t it the same??

C: Release more pictures. LYN: I rarely take selfies anymore, so there’s nothing in the storage to post. Let’s revisit this when I have an opportunity to save up some more photos.

C: Ning-ge, you were touched at the airport? LYN: Last time I went to Changsha to shoot for a show, and a fan at the airport touched me, a little. It’s okay. I’m a grown man, a small touch would not lose me a piece of meat. But my “it’s okay” does not mean “it’s okay to touch me”. That is, try your best not to make contact. No, not “try your best not to” but “don’t attempt it at all.” What I meant by “it’s okay” was that the incident has passed, so I’ll let bygones be bygones. I don’t need to find out who that person is, in order to attack them. LYN: I was thinking about it on the way home and I came to a conclusion. I really don’t like people touching me; I don’t think it’s very resepctful. But I was thinking that maybe when I walked in front of her something else floated by. My hand”some”ness. So this person smelled (?) my handsomeness and couldn’t help themselves. That’s what I was thinking when I was home and lying in bed. That’s what I was thinking, so I have forgiven that friend. Because it’s because of me, that they could not control themselves. So I’ll let it go, but give a strict reminder when I’m streaming. LYN: I’m joking, joking. But I hope that the next time we see each other, we can communicate with manners. Okay? Don’t touch me. If you touch me next time, I’ll report you.

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C: Wish me a Happy Birthday! LYN: Many of you are celebrating your birthday today, yeah? Ok, then Happy- Let me record a voice message for you. Let me close the captions. You can turn on your screen capturing program now and record this video message. You can save it to your phone so that when you’re celebrating a birthday you can just play it. Today, for all of you in the stream, I will record my well wishes. I’ve already turned off the on-screen captions. Let me fix my hair- oh, it’s even uglier. /fixes it again/ Okay. Let’s go. LYN: Hello, everyone. I am Liu Yuning. I’d like to wish the friend in front of me a Happy Birthday, and I hope you can be happy every day and that all goes smoothly. LYN: Was that okay, friends? C: No, it wasn’t personal enough. LYN: Is that so? Then, I’ll record all the other versions too. “Hello, I am LYN. I’d like to wish-” /moving his mouth/ I’ll make the shapes with my mouth and then you can go and dub it yourself. “- a Happy Birthday!” Okay? 3, 2, 1. Start! - /Birthday Wish Video Message V2 (fill in the name ver.)/ C: It was too fast! LYN: What do you mean “it was too fast”! Is your name four to five characters long? My mouth moved four times, that should be about enough! C: It went too fast, I could’t record it in time. LYN: There’s the playback. When we’re done you can go back to find it. - LYN: Friends, let me also record a wedding one for you to use when you get married, because many of you aren’t yet. Okay, ready? 3, 2, 1. Record. LYN: Hello everyone, I am Liu Yuning. I’d like to congratulate ZZZ and YYY on their wedding. I hope you are blessed with children soon and may you live a long and happy life together. LYN: Perfect. - LYN: Look at that. Usually when you want a video like this from an artist, you have to rely on your connections to get you a chance but here I just give it to you directly. When you get married, you can play this clip from me and tell people, “This is my friend.”

C: Ning-ge, can you record one for my successful grand opening (of a business)? LYN: Friends, it’s like this. Many people will ask me for such video messages, but most of the time I don’t record one. Especially for businesses, I pretty much never agree to record one, because I don’t think that these messages should be used for marketing. A message for your grand opening would turn this into business. In that case, we’d need to discuss collaboration and a contract. LYN: We don’t do business messages here. But if it’s for something between friends like a birthday or wedding, that’s okay. If it’s for business then at the very least you should be transferring me 200rmb before I’ll record one for you.

C: Record a wake-up call. LYN: … I think I have, before? I think I went on some show and they asked me to record a wake-up call for my fans. I’ve done this before.

C: Then just record another one! I don’t want the old one, nor do I want to try to find it. LYN: How lazy you are! You just want everything handed to you. You want too many things.

C: Are we making video messages today? LYN: No, someone earlier is celebrating their birthday. I won’t joke anymore. LYN: I wish everyone present in my stream- if you’re celebrating a birthday today- that you can be happy every day. Also, you’re one year older now, so… learn something. LYN: I meant that in a good way!

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bgm: 陽光總在風雨後 (Sunshine After the Rain) > 热辣滚烫 (YOLO), YOLO Movie OST

C: Have you decided on your next drama? LYN: Why did you have to bring up such a sensitive topic? Well, it’s not that sensitive, because I have been seeing what people are posting so I did want to talk about this the next time I streamed. But then I couldn’t figure out how to say what I wanted to say. Sometimes when I need to say something relatively stricter, I always think about how I should say it. I want to make sure I’ve thought it through first. Usually when I touch upon a topic, I’ve already thought of about 70% of what I want to say. LYN: Sometimes people take my content out of context. Maybe if you spend ten minutes listening to me talk about the same topic, you wouldn’t misinterpret what I’m trying to say. But just one wrong word can trigger something which makes the whole thing sensitive. Do you get what I’m saying? You only focus on the few seconds, but don’t get the concept of what I’ve spent ten minutes to explain. It creates ambiguity. So that’s why… when I haven’t thought something through all the way I don’t particularly want to talk about it.

LYN: But since we’re on the topic, let me share my thoughts. What I’m saying now has nothing to do with other artists, and it is especially not directed anyone else’s fans. Right now, I am speaking to my own fans. In reference to what dramas I will pick up: I won’t say, “I’ll pick up what I want to, you don’t have to worry about it.” That’s not what I mean. But I do want to say that I am a 30+ year old grown adult- approaching 40. Every decision I make in my life in regards to my work has undergone careful thought or there are reasons behind my choices that you are unaware of and I cannot tell you. It might not be the ideal choice you want me to make, but they are choices that I’ve made after careful deliberation and reflection. Also, I’m sure that I would understand better than about 90% of you watching- how to be an artist. You have to admit that, right? I used to just be a street busker, who somehow went viral, established himself as a singer, and is now an actor. Right? I’m sure that I know better than 90% of you what things I should be doing and what dramas I should be accepting. Before, too, many of you wouldn’t acknowledge the decisions I made. When you look back you should realize that there must have been a reason I had made my decision. LYN: You need to trust me. Of course, there were times that my choices were a mistake- that’s a given. Rather than a “mistake”, they were the best choice I could make at the time. Looking back on those decisions now might leave you with regrets, but they were the best choice could have made at the time. They were choices I made after consideration of my position at the time. You just need to trust me. No one can tell what the results will be, but I have my reasons for making the decisions I do. That’s what I wanted to share with you.

LYN: Also, I won’t… how do I say this… I won’t just numbly do something without considering it first. I’m getting older, so there’s no way I would blindly do something. Every variety show I participate in, every song I release, my concert, and the dramas I accept- all decisions are made after making careful considerations. I won’t accept something just because it pays me more. Honestly, a few years ago when I was marketing, I made a lot more than I do now. But I don’t do that anymore. If there’s one thing you can trust me for, it’s that I will never make my decisions based on profit.

C: Got it, Ning-ge. I understand. Ning-ge is someone who “considers money as trash”! LYN: Are you trying to kill me? That’s anti-fan talk, right there. What artist in this world would dare to say that “money is no object to me.” Who dares?? Stop putting labels on me. LYN: I’ve said before, that I don’t think of money as money. I think of it as my life. If it’s supposed to be mine, then it’s mine. If it’s not mine to make, then so be it.

C: Ning-ge, you’re right. Looking back, 90% of your choices were the right one. LYN: They’re… not necessarily “right.” I just feel like… when I am looking at projects… I’ll filter it through a bunch of miscellaneous thoughts before I make my decision. When I receive a project, of course I am honored to have received notice of it in the first place. Secondly, I will look at it from different angles: 1. The Script, 2. The Production Company, 3. The Platform, 4. [???] - there’s no ranking to this!- 5. Director, 6. Actors. I will consider all these factors to look at the project comprehensively before making a decision. I don’t only look a the script, think it’s good, and make my decision. Or think, “Wow, this actor is a big name. I should collaborate with them.” or “This Director is amazing, I should accept.” I don’t only look at one factor, but look at the project collectively.

C: You’re really talking in depth about it. LYN: I won’t anymore. It’s just something that I wanted to share. My decisions aren’t made in jest. There’s a reason behind the choice I make for the work I choose to do. I choose it for a reason. I hope that you can… respect- no, trust me. I don’t think I can ask for your respect, but at least trust me. Trust in my choices and we’ll be ok. LYN: Additionally, don’t tear down anyone I work with. This is something I keep repeating. Don’t fight about anyone I’ve worked or collaborated with. At this point I have a clear understanding of the tricks of “how to be an artist”, but I don’t want to use them and I don’t advise any of my fans to implement them either. I hope you can do that for me. Let’s just play among ourselves. C: What if other people come to start fights with us? LYN: Just… don’t fight back. This is the nature of fighting. You can… How do I say this? When you fight back, that’s when we start hurting each other. Do you get it? At first it’s a favorable condition, but once you start fighting back then you’re just mutually hurting one another. It’s that simple. LYN: I don’t know. Let’s not talk about such a sensitive topic anymore. LYN: Just block them. Pretend you didn’t see anything and block them. If you see something you don’t like, just mark the post as “not of interest” and leave it at that.

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LYN: Also, I see that a lot of you care a lot about me- a bit like my mother. 1. Like my mother, and 2. Like my manager. You’ll say, “Your wig, Ning-ge! The wig is too low! What’s wrong with your drama crew? Can’t they see that they’ve put your bangs too low?? If you keep on like this, it won’t do at all.” “You don’t respect Ning-ge! How could you put his wig on so low???” /sigh/ I’ve seen those posts, and that you’ve even tagged the director in them. I really don’t know where you learned this behavior. You can’t learn the good things, but you sure can pick up this type of thing quickly, one after another! You’re either attacking wardrobe saying, “The clothes you made for my idol don’t look good. They’re too ugly! What the hell is that?? What’s with the texture? Why is the color like tomatoes and eggs?” or “This wig is on too low, why don’t you just start it at his nose??” Actor-fans can’t learn one good thing, but they sure can learn the bad without missing a beat!

LYN: I want to tell you something, my friends. In regard to my wig being too low: you shouldn’t judge whether the wig is low or not just based on leaked photos. This thing (the placement of the wig) is based on where the camera is stationed. First of all, we’re not recording from an angle that looks like we’re filming sneakily. If you’re looking at it from where the paparazzi are- they’re either very high or very low, or in some weird place trying to catch a glimpse of us as we spend our days filming. The angles at which they are taking these pictures are quite strange and deceiving. DO YOU KNOW?? They aren’t shooting at the right angles because 1. since they’re not close enough the dimensions get skewed and 2. if I’m shooting at ground level and they’re 10m up, looking down at me- do you think the angle of that sneakily taken picture will come out well?? That’s why I want to say, that the high or lowness of my wig and whether it looks good or not depends solely on where the camera is. Because in the end it’s going to be recorded, edited, and turned into a drama for your viewing based on the location of the main camera. LYN: Let me tell you about it from a different angle: you can’t tell with your eyes whether the wig is on high or low. You might think that the placement is just right when looking with your eyes, but through the monitor it’s higher or lower. Everything- low or high, makeup, wardrobe, color, texture- all of it is based on how well it appears on the monitor. Friends, that’s the way it is.

C: You’re getting worked up? LYN: No- this is not how I act when I’m agitated. This is a purposeful performance persona that I’m using to tell you about these things, so that you don’t think I’m actually angry about it. I’m executing this as a performance, to tell you about it so that you find it interesting. C: Do you have other personas? LYN: What type of persona do you want to see? 🙂

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LYN: Of course, there could be times where you sometimes pretend that you understand the visual of the historical drama wig. You could understand it, you could know, and you could THINK that you know. You can pose it as a question- “Do you think Ning-ge’s wig looks a little low?”- and share it with others, but don’t just directly start pointing fingers at the hair and makeup artists and demanding, “Do you know how to do your job??” This is their profession, so I’m sure that they know better. What I’m trying to say is: try not to create friction. In the end all of these elements are optimized to look best based on the final recording and how it looks in the monitor. Right? Otherwise why would the phrase “on camera” exist? If everything were made to be seen with your naked eyes or in a photo, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion. The standards are made for the main camera, okay? Listen to me.

C: The YNGS wig was low. LYN: Honestly, I’ll admit to that. That was a tiring drama to film- we had some very long days of shooting. Once you move or sweat, the seal releases and the wig starts moving. If we’re still in the middle of filming, all they can do is glue it back down so that you can continue. The more times they glue it back down again, the lower it becomes. If you put it too high to begin with, the whole thing will just slide off the back. It’s true that in YNGS, you’ll discover that some scenes are very good but others are low. It’s because we took many shots that day. Whenever the seal starts to open, we’ll pull and glue it back down. The more we pulled, the further down it ended up.

LYN: This time though, we’re quite strict about it. This time, there’s a standard of measurement for the positioning of my wig, too. That is, I’ll use my beads to measure the length. This is how I do it- I’ll take this strand, start at my hairline, and count the number between my hairline and the point of my nose. It’s twenty beads. I start to count… “1, 2, 3, …. 19, 20. 21?!” “No, this won’t do, laoshi. It needs to be twenty. Look.” - /puts the beads back to his hairline, counts, and tells them where it needs to be/ LYN: “This is the highest it should be. Okay, nice!”

LYN: That’s what I do, now. Why did I start to play with beads? It’s because it’s a string of beads- it may look like a stress relieving tool, but it has another function as a measuring tool for the height of my wig. C: Ning-ge, but what if you have a jingang bodhi today, but fengyan tomorrow? LYN: On a fengyan, it’s 18 beads. I have a standard of measurement for every strand I own. // Xinyue bodhis are 28 beads, because they’re smaller in size. LYN: I carry these beads around everyday, but it’s not a sure thing what I’ll use them for. So friends, you don’t have to worry. My wig is placed at the same height every day. You might think it’s high today, but by tomorrow you won’t think it’s low. [??] The logic is that I’ve used these beads to measure. I’m not kidding. C: I can’t believe people are buying this. LYN: I’m being serious. /unconvincingly/ I’m being serious about this, at least. This one is really true. C: /doesn’t believe him/ LYN: You think I’m bluffing and joking?? I’m being serious~!! FOR REAL!! LYN: I’m saying that we do measure it, but we don’t use the beads to do it. Friends, honestly, we use a measuring tape. That’s strict enough, isn’t it?

C: Ning-ge, when you measure it tomorrow take a picture as proof. LYN: …? You- /laughs/ There are two angles to this. 1. Why should I take a picture, just because you told me to? And 2. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you find the proof? How is it that you don’t believe I use a measuring tape, and you want me to prove that I do? I have to provide the evidence myself?? Fine then, when I’m finished with makeup tomorrow I’ll grab the measuring tape and snap a photo for you.

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C: Can you talk about 618? LYN: They day that I sang? 618 is a Hunan Satellite TV event. Actually, when I’m already in a drama crew I will rarely accept invitations to events like these because I feel like it would split my attention. I’ll be focusing on shooting the drama when they want me to stop and do something else. What I mean by that is that I have limits- my mental capacity has a limit and I don’t really like to go out. But sometimes when I’ve been in the drama crew for too long, there are moments when I do want to get out and wander around and take a breather. Even if that’s going to the market and eating some crayfish. It’s still feels relaxing. You need that balance between work and rest. So I went to Changsha.

LYN: At the start they had asked me if I would do a set of songs. I asked which ones, and they mentioned three. I said, “Okay, but the problem is… these songs are all from last year or two years ago.” I was thinking that they’re making it seem as if I’m not prolific enough- that’s what I was thinking! They found my best OSTs from the previous years. But I was- :(. I CAN do it, since they’re songs that people have acknowledged, but the fact that I would be singing songs from previous years and not this one gives me the feeling like I haven’t done much this year. I feel like I am being eliminated by time. So I didn’t want to sing them, since it made it seem as if I hadn’t made any breakthroughs this year. But there’s YOLO- it counts as this year, right? and Offer- even though it’s from last year, but it’s special to me. 1. It was my first lead role and 2. I sang it. It means a lot to me. So we agreed on these two songs, and I went.

LYN: Six days before I was set to go, I started catching a cold. Those days I was wearing the armor, with the mask and hat- you know the look. We were shooting fight scenes, and after I would be soaked with sweat- you know how hot Hengdian was- and I would head straight for the air conditioning in that state. At first I thought I was fine- it just felt really great. When I was standing under the AC I would think, “OMG, this feels great~” I thought I was going to die, I couldn’t catch my breath, but the AC felt great. And then I got sick. I gave myself a cold. LYN: I felt terrible. Because normally I rarely get sick during the year- maybe only once or twice. But this time I got sick. If you look at the leaked photos, you can see me blowing my nose. I was blowing my nose or sneezing every other minute. I was in it. But the weird thing about this cold was that even after a week I still hadn’t recovered. Because I knew that a week later, I would have to attend this event. In my recollection, if you’re not well in three days, you be well in four. If you’re not well in four days, you should be more than fine by five. But it was seven days and I was not fine yet. It was getting to the deadline and I was dumbfounded. LYN: I couldn’t speak without sniffling, and I had this event to attend. As a singer I hold myself to a standard that I must sing live. If I went, I’d need to sing live, but I was sick. Also, it seems that audiences have higher standards for singers. Because of a certain variety show, now audiences have high standards for singers. Because they like to take the singer’s raw vocals and put it through some software to see how accurately they’re singing the notes. It’s not as if I was afraid of singing live- I like it. I enjoy singing live, and it’s when I’m recording that I don’t feel anything. But I was thinking, “I’m done for.” I- Liu Yuning- have spent the past month and a half shooting a drama and finally got the opportunity to go out and attend and event to show my face, take some nice pictures, and look handsome. To go on stage and sing some songs that myself and everyone else likes- my own songs- so that I can leave behind a wonderful stage and beautiful image. How nice is that? But I was sick.

LYN: I felt terrible. Deeply pained. What could I do?? What if the time came and my voice cracked? I would be trending at No.1 with the topic “LYN_SoundsTerrible”. It would be the end of me. What do you think would happen- do you think I would still be able to keep business in the OST industry? How was I going to keep getting jobs? Would I still be the “Bodyguard of Love”? I started thinking all sorts of things. I was terrified. I’d arrive in Changsha on 6/16 and perform on the 17th. I woke up at 8am on the 16th, went into makeup and shot a whole day of scenes. After that I headed straight for the airport, flew to Changsha, and went straight for rehearsal as soon as I landed. And then… - /preps/ LYN: Normally, everyone has to go rehearse. The first thing you do is to test the mic- you have to listen to the ration between the in-ears and vocals, because you’re singing live. It needs to be tested. I went like this- -- 奉上 (purposefully singing poorly every once in a while) LYN: That’s how I sounded during rehearsal. Because first, I was sick and second, I was up all night so my condition was the worst it could be. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to control the high notes, but I had to pretend that I could handle it. I said, “Sorry, laoshi”- I used the mic to tell them- “Sorry”- I was giving myself an out- “Let me try again. Maybe I haven’t been on stage in too long. Let me try that again. /coughs/.” I purposefully coughed so the mic would pick it up. /coughs/ To secretly tell them that I was sick. “This is not reflective of LYN’s actual skill. Please don’t regret inviting me.” So the first rehearsal was done. The second time around director came and asked me if I wanted to do another run, and I said yes. “I want to try that again. /cough/.” Ok- LYN: The second time I only had five words in my head: pretend it’s the real performance. I had to do it seriously this time, because honestly the first time I wasn’t trying that hard. Because the purpose of it was to test the mic levels, to make sure the audience is hearing well and that my in-ears are working right. The second time around I have to give it my all. “Even if I ruin my voice, I will not crack this second time.” I’m sure that there are fans in the audience who spent money to get a seat. Every time I rehearse, there are always these fans who use alternative means to get through the back door. If they hear me sing badly, they’re going to stop being my fan. Usually, the people who can afford to spend money to get into the venue- even though as artists we do not condone this behavior of using improper means- it proves one thing: they either have money or have connections. They’re fans with a different type of skill. Of course, all of my fans are important to me! I’m just afraid that you’ll think, “Ning-ge sound like THIS live? Forget it. UNSTANNED!” So for the second time I was thinking that even if I ruin my voice tonight and I can’t speak tomorrow, I still have to sing properly. Let’s do it. -- 奉上 (take 2) LYN: /interrupts himself to say/ I think I was wearing this exactly, that day. This hat and these shades.

LYN: People need to find their confidence. After the first high note, I was much more relaxed for the rest of the song. After that I didn’t crack too terribly. But honestly, I wasn’t the best. I was thinking the next day I wouldn’t do ANYTHING. I would go home, shower, and just lie on the bed and have a good sleep. I needed to sing live for the performance, and I didn’t want to be laughed off the stage. It wasn’t worth it. I had enough ridicule as a singer five years ago. Maybe three years ago. But in the recent three years very few people have attacked me for being a singer. This is the truth. Five years ago, everyone just thought I was “internet famous” so when I was singing and called myself a singer they said, “What “singer”?? You’re just internet famous is all.” But in the recent three years very few people have questioned my identity as a singer. Because they’re rejecting my identity as an actor instead. So I don’t want to sing this song poorly and destroy my image as an actor- I mean- as a singer. Because I’m on the “actor” stage of my life now. If you take away my identity as a singer, the next thing they’ll be saying is, “LYN, you aren’t worthy to be a streamer.” They won’t even let me stream. They don’t think I’m worthy enough to be anything.

LYN: I wasn’t quite satisfied with my performance that night, because I didn’t sing well. In Offer, the first two high notes of the chorus weren’t very stable and I was noticeably off-key for one of them. There were a few places I was outrageously off key. For YOLO, it was my first time singing it live. I really was nervous that day. Usually I’m not nervous when attending these types of events. But I was really nervous that day, because I knew that I wasn’t in the best condition. I knew that I didn’t sing the first song as stably as I could have. I didn’t sing it well. So then for the second song, I wanted to find that stability back. I tried. And then- I started the song too early. I started the song a beat too early. - /plays the song/ LYN: In this part (the vocalization) I was supposed to be melancholy. I was supposed to be walking towards the rear of the stage, because they had told me “Ning-ge. When you finish Offer, walk back towards the stage.” I was planning it all out. I would walk, and when it reached the end I would open up my arms as if I were embracing the light and embracing the future. I was thinking that since I didn’t sing my first song well enough, I should at least pull off the second. The arrangement started and it went to my head. - /playing it out again/ LYN: I jumped in too early. /holds a not to get back on beat/ I was dazed. I was thinking “It’s over.” I made myself look cool for nothing!! I messed up and it’s a flop. I entered the song too early. That’s such a basic thing, too!! So I was wondering how I could make up for the slip and pretended it was okay. In the later part of the verse I purposefully dragged it, to see if I could trick the viewers. Only the viewers watching live- I can’t trick anyone watching the playback later. /reenacts/ I forgot exactly what I did, but I was thinking that since I came in too early, I would drag out the end and it would look like that was all part of the plan. It would only work to trick anyone who was watching the performance at the time, but not for anyone watching the playback.

C: Ning-ge, I thought you forgot the lyrics. LYN: I didn’t forget the lyrics. I was just too excited, that day. Excited, nervous, and most importantly because I knew that my condition wasn’t the best because I was sick. I was really afraid of cracking, so I wasn’t relaxed. But from the moment I made my first mistake I started relaxing because I knew it couldn’t get any worse than it already was. From the moment I entered too early, it took me 3-5 seconds of nerves before I just let go completely and finished off the song.

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C: How was the fan support? LYN: It was nice. But maybe it’s because lately I’ve just been shooting in the crew and haven’t gone out much, but you shouted so loud you gave me tinnitus. I was thinking it was a but too loud. You all were shouting too fiercely. I usually finish up my business and come out side to greet you, right? But this time when I went out your shouting gave me tinnitus. When I got on my car I felt like my ears were ringing.

C: Were you afraid? LYN: Afraid? What’s there to be afraid of? No, why would I be?? If I were walking along and you quietly came and held out a letter to me, then I would be afraid. You’re very welcoming, so there’s no need for me to be afraid.

C: Ning-ge, you sang the wrong lyrics at 618. LYN: You just came in didn’t you, kid? Did you just arrive now? I already spent about 15 minutes talking about my experience at the 618 event. I talked about the whole process and what I was thinking. I already finished talking about it, and NOW you come in to tell me that I missed some lyrics?? You came late. You can watch the playback later.

C: When are you streaming until? LYN: I’ll stream for a while then leave because I’ve got a day of filming tomorrow and I have to go over my scenes. I have quite a lot of them in this drama. Every one of them is a challenge to shoot. It’s very complicated. But of course, I believe that- as with everything- as long as you put in enough hard work you will be rewarded. How much is unknown, but there is a reward. So that’s why even if it’s tiring to shoot this drama, I still think it’s okay.

C: Ning-ge, when will Cicada Girl air? LYN: They’ve asked me to go do the voiceover recently. I don’t know where it is in the censorship process, but they’ve asked me to supplement the voiceover. From the actor’s perspective, I’ve been asked to redo lines that weren’t executed well or need to be changed. I really don’t have a lot of scenes in this drama. Maybe only 200 or so. It only took be a month and a half to finish all my scenes. I have very little scenes, and the whole show only has 24 episodes. All you need to do is watch and support it when it airs. LYN: A couple days ago when Ziwen-jie was doing her voiceover, she sent me a message. She asked me if I had done my part yet, and I told her that I received the notice but haven’t gone to the studio yet. She said, “It’s good! I almost laughed myself to death, it’s very amuding.” I replied, “Is that so? How is it- my acting?” She’s seeing the edited parts already, since she needs to do her lines, so I just asked her how my acting came out. “Is it okay?” She said, “Uh- okay. Let’s talk later! I need to finish my lines!” XD LYN: I’m joking. Don’t take that seriously. The content of my stream is a joke. Please don’t take it seriously. LYN: I asked her, “How’s my acting?” and she replied, “It was very good. I think it’s very amusing and it was funny when we were filming it, too.” She meant that it was fun even while we were shooting it. I let her go, since she needed to finish her lines. I’ll see it in any case, when I go to record mine.

C: I’m not a fan, I just happened to scroll by. LYN: It’s fate that brough you here. Everyone is a guest. With so many people in China, among the vast sea of people the fact that you and I are able to meet is fate. An encounter is centuries in the making, and millenium makes a marriage. In a decem-millenium (10,000 years) you scroll across my weibo. Think about how cruel fate is. You can only come across my weibo after 10,000 years! That’s fate. So, if you haven’t yet subscribed to my weibo, please do so. Thank you. - [t/n: the original quote is decade & century. 十年修得同船渡,百年修得共枕眠]

C: I’m your antifan. LYN: You’re here to turn yourself in? That’s great. Antifans are… Forget it- I feel like if I say the same thing I did the last time it won’t have any meaning. There’s a promise I made with my antifans in my last stream- you can go watch it. C: The 30-year promise. LYN: Right. I said in my last stream that as long as an antifan can continue to do so, within 30 years there will come a day where they realize they actually love me. Believe it. Let’s wait and see.

C: Lao-da, you’re trending. LYN: It’s not a hate-topic is it? I didn’t say anything! D: I didn’t say anything wrong today, did I? bgm: 世世 (Lifetime) - Legend of Shen Li OST LYN: Friends, you said- There’s a problem, which is- do you know why it’s taking me so long to look? Because I can’t find any trending topic. LYN: /is sad/ bgm: JVKE - Golden Hour LYN: /singing & “sobbing”/ LYN: See friends, people always say that LYN has ulterior motives. He’s so conniving- all of his projects are gained by drinking and chatting with people. Look at me now, though. I can even be tricked by netizens in my own stream. I’m someone who’s easily tricked by scammers. The phone scams can even trick me sometimes. So how could I have the brains to pull myself resources and work?? That’s why, you should never try to understand a person based on what others say about them. How should you understand them? From the heart. Use your heart to understand them. LYN: I had a line that went: “If you want to understand a person, don’t use your eyes.” No- the line went, “Let me tell you. If you really want to understand a person, don’t use your ears. Use your eyes.” … But I don’t think that’s accurate either. You should use your heart. Because what you see might not be the truth.

LYN: My shoulders are a little sore. I’m just exercising my back so I can relax the muscles. bgm: 万物盛开法则 (The Law of All Things in Bloom) - Zhang Dawei

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C: When will you release your album? LYN: I don’t want to discuss this topic. /sigh/ An album is really hard to make. It’s really not easy… Let’s not rush it! You ask me, “When will you release your album?” and I shall reply, “Let’s not rush it.” - [t/n: In Chinese, it rhymes: 专辑 (album - zhuānjí) & 着急 (worry/feel anxious - zháojí)]

C: You still won’t release it yet? LYN: I haven’t completed it yet. Honestly, a bunch of songs were done 2-3 years ago but I never released it because I don’t have enough. I want to release the album when I’ve collected 10 songs. I haven’t collected enough. When I listen to songs now, I kind of want to puke. I’m talking about the demos. There are just too many, and I can’t pick out which ones I like. It’s nothing to do with my style, it’s just that I’ve heard too many and now I’m numb. (recites lyrics to Jay Chou’s 世界末日 (End of the World))

C: If you don’t release one, it’ll be expired. LYN: You’re not wrong. /sigh/ I really want to let you hear some of it. Because once you do you’ll know that these songs are timeless. What I mean is that they are not bound to this era, so they won’t “expire.” C: Let’s hear some. LYN: There’s no way I would let you hear it. If I were to release it tomorrow or the day after, I would let you hear the starting rhythm or something. But you want me to play my album during my stream?! Then, who would buy it?

LYN: There’s someone in the chat who is constantly spamming what number topic I’m trending at. If you continue, and I find out you’re tricking me, I’m going to kick you out. The logic is that I can do without trending, I can just muddle my way through. But you can’t trick me. Okay? Don’t trick me. I don’t need to be popular, but I need you not to trick me.

C: Ning-ge, release a few more copies of your album, otherwise I’m afraid I won’t be able to get one. LYN: I don’t have any plans to make a physical one right now. My plan is to make a vinyl later, though like I did for my previous album. Just listening though, there’s no way you’ll need to pay- it’s going to be free. I made a promise to you before, that you would always get to listen to my music for free. My album will be free, so all you have to do is listen to it. If I do end up releasing a vinyl later, you can go buy that. But honestly, I’m not counting on it to make a profit. I don’t need it to. I haven’t reached that point. Otherwise- nevermind. I’m just not relying on these things to make money, is all. C: Can you not release a limited number of vinyls? LYN: We’ll see. It’s- if it’s not a limited number, then we have to predict how many to make in the first place. It’s actually not that much different from having a limit.

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C: Lao-da, why won’t you talk to us at the airport? LYN: I did, didn’t I? “Move to the side.” (x3) /laughs/ Didn’t I tell you to move to the sides? I’m kidding! I was saying, “Don’t squeeze. Okay, I know. Don’t squeeze!!” I did talk to you! Wasn’t I very sincere? I was saying it from the heart: “Please, don’t squeeze.” How many other artists can talk to you sincerely like that, using their heart to tell you the truth? How many can do that? I can. I said, “Don’t squeeze anymore. D:” It was truly words from the heart. No airs- just a shout from my soul. “Stop squeezing!”

LYN: Because right now I’m spending most of my time in the drama crew. If I wrap up the day at 12a, and I have to go attend some even the next day, I still have to wake up early. I have to get into hair and makeup early, and shoot a day of scenes. It’s a lot different from how you would go about a company job. I shouldn’t say that. That’s just how /I/ work. If I am shooting some scenes tomorrow, then I have to do some homework the night before. I’ll go early to get my hair and makeup done, then start filming. You need to be focused on the drama during this part. After that, I turn in to wash up and then head for the airport. Why do I always use the VIP route when I fly places? It’s not because I have money or that I’m trying to show off. It’s that I really want to use that time to take a nap. Because as soon as I’m off the plane I need to go to rehearsals. I’ll wake up and start makeup at 12p the next day- very early. Because we need to snap the promo photos that you see my studio post. I’ll wake up two hours earlier to get get made up and shoot those photos so that they’re ready before the event. Later in the evening, it’s time for me to perform. Most of the time as soon as I’m done, I catch a flight back to Hengdian and it’ll land around 2-3 in the morning. I’ll be working again the next day.

LYN: I’m not saying this to tell you that I’m tired. I’m not afraid of being tired. I AM afraid of not being in the best condition I could be, and going to shoot my drama. This face of mine has to face the camera, and it was ugly enough to begin with. I’m already just average-looking. If I wake up the next day looking haggard and messing up my lines, then that would agonize me. (He doesn’t want to delay the filming because of his personal reasons.) LYN: That’s why I want to get a good rest on the road. I’ll sleep on the car, get to the airport drowsy, take a nap on the plane, then get off my flight and be ready to go to rehearsal. I’m giving myself a period of rest.

----- Break #1 LYN: I’m back. They (the neighbors) weren’t fighting. They were watching TXJ. - /thanking all the fans who make content for him: video edits, fanart, etc./ LYN: There are people who draw for me- I won’t comment on whether they draw well or not- it’s all good to me, because I can’t draw. But there are some people who are constantly making content. For example, right now. I’m streaming now but by the time I’ve finished they will have posted a drawing of me already. It doesn’t matter if it’s cartoon, sketch, manhua, or whatever style. Most of the time when I’m streaming, by the time I’m done that art is already posted. It’s nice. I just think that every drawing is- - /sets up his bgm > 내 마음 들리나요 (Can you Hear My Heart)/ LYN: - is full of love. Every video is full of interest ans respect. So right now I’d like to thank every good friend who creates content for me. You’ve worked hard. LYN: What is this? When someone is willing to put in so much effort for you- what is that called? I think this feeling can only be described in two words: team spirit.

C: Are you logging off now? LYN: You wish. On a night when I appear like this, how could I so easily let you go to sleep? Stay up!

C: Xiao Ning, being loved by so many people, you must move forward carrying a heavy burden. LYN: I suddenly realize that I have a long way to go in my future. I’m carrying so many people’s hopes… and disappointments. So I do not feel like I am alone. Right now, it’s possible that I am carrying many of my fans, or those of you who are watching whose wish was to become a celebrity’s dreams. Right now I represent all the hopes for the future you had when you were young. And I will continue to carry that heavy burden and move forward. C: I’m on the heavier side. LYN: And you still have the nerve to say so? That’s why it’s called “负重前行” (fu zhong qian xing), because I have to “扶” (fu = support) you in walking forward. C: Ning-ge, I am a 100+ kg soul. LYN: Your soul alone is 100+ kg? And what about your physical body? It’s okay. A girl like you is... stable.

C: When did you start? LYN: The stream? Around 9p. It’s been about an hour and a half now, let me look at my timer. I’ve been streaming for 1h, 43m. What’s wrong- you missed it, didn’t you? :) That’s why. If you haven’t yet subscribed to my weibo, please do so. I don’t always announce when I’m going to stream. Sometimes I do it when I wrap up work early. After today though… it’s probably going to be a while before I stream next. Because as of now I still owe: 5 OSTs and the supplemental voiceover for Cicada Girls. If I finish work early in the next weeks, that will be the work I have to make up for.

LYN: I forgot something earlier- That’s right. You are now listening to the drama Follow Your Heart (YXJ) OST opening theme song, called 心悠悠 (Longing Heart). Oh- excuse me- I misspoke! It’s not the opening theme- it’s the interlude! Sorry. Let me say that again. - /repeats himself, but correctly/ -- 心悠悠 (Longing Heart) - Follow Your Heart OST - /singing along, but not syncing up/ LYN: Friends, it’s like this- it’s not that I am unfamiliar with the song, but that in the recent year, this is the most mysterious OST I’ve sung. The three chorus verses are all different. I can’t remember which melody comes first. If there are detailed friends tuning in, you can focus on that- the three choruses are all different. So I’m a little confused. Let me re-familiarize myself.

C: Stop swaying. I’m dizzy. C: You’re singing this song with a strong sense of thievery. (KSTLB2 reference, bc he was rubbing his hands together) LYN: Friends- let me explain the “dizzy” thing later. First, if you don’t have any drama to watch lately you can check this one out. It’s called Follow Your Heart and there are some friends of mine in it. Including LYX-laoshi, who I’ve worked with (sung OSTs for his dramas) a few times already. The drama is pretty interesting; I’ve watched a bit. Wang Chengsi (ZY, SJYM) has also cameo-d in a couple episodes. I thought it was quite a good watch. So if you have some time you can go watch this new drama, okay? Please support it. LYN: Now let me tell you why you might have been a bit dizzy earlier. Some people just have that disposition- like carsickness. Some girls might have a weaker disposition, and when they’re on the subway or if they see something that is shaking too much they can get a sense of vertigo. But let me teach you what to do when I’m singing. - C: Once I get carsick, I’m vomiting enough to fill the car. LYN: … How much you vomit doesn’t have to do with being dizzy, but with how much you’ve eaten. If you don’t eat for a day, I’m sure you won’t have enough vomit to fill the car. It’d just be a puddle, probably. You must have eaten too much and thrown up as a result. That’s not to do with carsickness. Just eat less and you won’t vomit enough to fill the car. Maybe just half the car. Also, I don’t think you’re throwing up at just the slightest jiggle or sway of the car, right? Just eat a little less. LYN: Are you that friend from earlier who had a soul that was 100+ kg? - LYN: Anyway, what I wanted to say was- I’ll sing another song in a bit to let you test it- but sway along! If you don’t trust me, then try. Hold your phone and sway as you watch. You won’t be dizzy. If you don’t trust me then just try it. You have to follow my rhythm and sway with me. Then you won’t feel sick. Okay? And now I will sing. Let me see which song will make you move.

- /vocal fry/ LYN: Suddenly, a vocal fry register. (气泡音 - qìpào yīn) * [Vocal fry is the lowest register (tone) of your voice characterized by its deep, creaky, breathy sound] LYN: What do you mean~ I should sing a song now~ How about~~~ LYN: /laughs/ I saw a comment once that read, “What’s so good about LYN’s streams? One time I happened to click in and found he was speaking with the vocal fry register. How greasy!” LYN: Don’t you think… How could this be greasy? Don’t you think- it sounds very nice?

LYN: Someone wants to hear “一个人的北京.” I won’t be singing that. What should I sing… how about… I haven’t actually found one. C: 传承 (Inheritance) LYN: I’m really just afraid of cracking, because I know I’m not in the best condition. I don’t want it to influence any future work. I still have five OSTs I haven’t recorded yet. What if a producer or director is watching my stream and they watch me crack while singing a song and then think, “We don’t need LYN anymore.” “We don’t want you to sing this song anymore. If there’s a chance to work together next time, we’ll talk.” It might influence my future development and income.

LYN: There’s a song called… what’s “等风来”? Oh, the song is called “天空之外” (Beyond the Sky), right? I heard this song recently, and I quite liked it. // Is there an arrangement for the male key? No? -- 天空之外 (Beyond the Sky) - Gank Your Heart OST LYN: Songs are so hard to find! Why is it so complicated. Hold on, let me check my “arrangement warehouse.”

LYN: Oh, this I haven’t sung in a long time! -- 乞丐 (Beggar) LYN: Hold on- it’s been a long time since I last sang this and I’ve forgotten how. Sorry. I always sing this at my concert, though. C: It lagged. LYN: It didn’t lag, the mic broke. There was a small problem with it. It’s okay. // It’s not broken. // Oh, you lagged? What a coincidence. The microphone forgot the lyrics, lol.

LYN: Oh, 熬夜 (Stay Up All Night)... I will sing this song for everyone tuning in, and you who are currently staying up tonight. - /missed the timing to start singing/ LYN: What do you think? You, who are currently staying up at night- this song 熬夜 is for you. Let’s stay up together. I don’t know how the sound equipment is working tonight, but let’s just sing. If you start to feel dizzy, remember to sway with me. -- 熬夜 (Stay Up All Night) LYN: That’s about enough. I don’t have any strength left. Thank you. LYN: I’ll open another bottle of water. It feels a bit hoarse. Excuse me, sorry.

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bgm: 莫问前程 (Don’t Ask About the Future) - White Cat Legend OST LYN: I won’t sing anymore, let’s just chat. I don’t have enough strength left.

C: Ning-ge, why hasn’t Daimi been to work for four days? LYN: She’s been in Hangzhou for a few days. We’re had her get a check-up, because she hasn’t been feeling well lately. But we found out it was nothing big, so she came back. Today she was at work on time.

C: Is she pregnant? LYN: No!

LYN: /to Daimi/ Daimi! Come here. Your fans want to see you. LYN: ?! You stepped on my headphones, hey! [t/n: OMG, I almost thought he said something… different. >.>] LYN: Hold on. Let me find some appropriate bgm for you. Alright? Wait a bit. bgm: Neon Sweetheart LYN: Okay. Say hello to all the brothers, sisters, uncles and aunties out there. They’ve been thinking of you the whole time.

C: Daimi plays with beads, too? LYN: No, I put it on her so she can play it for me. Because her oils and fur are suited for polishing them. Also, as an artist you have to have something special, right? You’ve seen dogs sit and dance, but have you ever seen a dog polishing beads? You haven’t right? So if we want to make some space for ourselves in this vast world, you have to be unique. I’m sure no one’s ever seen a dog polishing beads. So I’ve given her this image.

LYN: Look- she’s gotten so chubby. I’m just having her stand on my leg for a big, but she already can’t keep herself up. She’s panting. Listen- She’s so fat she can’t even sit!

LYN: I’m going to recite the spell now. Friends, you can observe how her modd changes. How- about- a sausage? C: There’s no reaction. LYN: No- can’t you see that she keeps licking her lips?? She’s already imagining what it will be like when she eats it. Let’s go. Hold on a sec while I get her one.

C: Ning-ge, I want to watch you feed her. LYN: My dog can’t do much else, but if you give her a whole sausage she can peel it herself. I don’t need to serve her. C: Show us. LYN: What, you even want a performance? Hold on, friends. - /shows off all the peels/ LYN: She ate all of those.

C: Ning-ge, are you sure you didn’t eat them? LYN: I… wouldn’t. Because this is a sausage for pets.

C: She didn’t peel it today? LYN: No- she’s over in her house. When she’s done eating it she’ll leave the peel there. That was probably two or three day’s worth. She eats 5-6 sticks in a day. LYN: Every morning she goes to the makeup room- she’s in a rush every morning. As soon as I wake up and start washing my face, she’s already waiting by the door. I’m washing my face, and she’s already waiting to go. She plans on just running out and onto the elevator as soon as I open the door. When we’re at the makeup room, the first thing my makeup artist does is give her a sausage. She won’t eat this first one, but hide it instead; because I have my own room. Then she’ll go to the bigger makeup room and do her rounds. She’ll come back with an egg and some bread. Then come back and eat them all together. That’s her breakfast. LYN: Most of the time she won’t eat that first sausage yet, and go fishing for bread. Sometimes there’s an egg, and she’ll eat that on the spot. If there’s no egg, she’ll bring some bread back. Then she’ll eat them together.

-----

- /smacks a mosquito and shows it off/

C: Ning-ge, the Shanghai subgroup of fans is meeting, will you come? LYN: I won’t be attending, thanks. You eat and play amongst yourselves. I know a lot of locations are gathering for a group dinner. It’s quite fun and happy to be together. I won’t be going because I don’t want to have to pay for the meal. If I had the money, I could just buy something to eat at home. But you all have fun. I won’t be going. LYN: Jilin is also gathering, is that right? Dalian as well? Nice, have fun together.

C: Ning-ge, if you come you’ll eat for free. LYN: For example, there’s a place where my fans are gathering and they’ve bought out a restaurant to hang out. If you invite me and I go, then that means I don’t have to pay for my share, is that it? Erm… I’m not someone who’s greedy to take advantage of such situations. The reason I’m not going is really because I don’t want to take advantage, not because I don’t want to go. I really do want to go, but I don’t want to take advantage. So I won’t be going.

C: Then come to foot the bill. LYN: I could. That’s no problem. You all know that Ning-ge is not stingy when it comes to these things. I treat my fans well. But I won’t be going. I don’t even want to go when it’s a free meal, let alone go when I have to pay the bill. What do you think I am? Many friends call me “Ning-bao” don’t they? Now you want me to go make payments- do you think I’m Alipay (zhifubao)?

C Ning-ge, where’s your team spirit?? LYN: /laughs/ I could chat about “team spirit” with you on a normal basis but once it comes to fan-gatherings this “team spirit” disappears. Is that what you mean to say?? Are you provoking me? You’re calling me out?! LYN: This trick is called “moral kidnapping”. It’s okay- when it’s about treating fans to meals I’ve already given up on my morals.

C: You sure are stingy. LYN: This isn’t being stingy. This has nothing to do with money. It’s my life on the line. LOL, no. Let’s make an example: I go to any random fan-gathering, let’s say Beijing. They say, “Ning-ge, we’re having a fan-gathering!” and I go, “You’re meeting up? Okay- the bill’s on me. Ning-ge will treat you.” At this time, Shenyang’s group is calling it quits. “What’s the meaning of this, Ning-ge? Fans in Beijing are fans, but us in Shenyang aren’t?” So I say, “Okay. Liu-gongzi will pay the tab in Shenyang.“ After that, the Dandong fans are calling it quits. If it continues on like that, it would be fairer for everyone if I don’t pay for anyone. You all can pick up your own tabs.

LYN: Sometimes it’s hard to be fair, but I’m trying hard to keep it even. One time I wanted to do something fun for my stream- I was thinking I could connect with fans. Because I needed content, but also because I thought I had the ability to communicate. Even if the person I connected with happened to be an antifan. If I randomly pick a user today to connect with, and they end up being an antifan. If they come in cursing, then I would kick them out immediately. But if they came in wanting to debate, I have the confidence I would be able the go for half an hour (or longer) and ultimately turn them into my fan. I’m confident I can do that. LYN: The problem is that I’ve thought about connecting with fans, but then you all complain and tell me not to. Why? Because I’m connecting with someone that’s not you. Now they’re unhappy. For example, I’ll connect with Fan A, and now Fan B is upset. “Lao-da, I’m telling you. I bought four cases of yogurt because of you. What? Is that not enough to be a fan?” Fan C didn’t get to connect either, so they say, “Yeah, Lao-da. I bought a Pomellato necklace. What is this, favoritism? Okay. I won’t be buying any more.” There’s this sense of rebellion, so I want to be fair: I won’t connect with anyone. If there comes a day when this sense of revolt can lessen, then I would select a few lucky guests and chat with them during my streams. LYN: We can chat about anything like if you need life advice, or if you have any opinions/suggestions that I should take, or your thoughts. We really can talk about it. It could be fun!

LYN: I think even with streaming or- if you are an artist- not yet a celebrity, but at least someone in this industry: singer, actor, it doesn’t matter- I always think that you should always love what you do. I even remade my streaming room- the next time I stream, if it’s all set up, you’ll see how serious I am about streaming. There’ll be new room. But I want to make the content fun as well. So I think of connecting because interaction is the charm of livestreaming. I think I can do it. C: I want to interact. LYN: See? There’s someone who’s posted that they want to interact. At this time, they are very excited to be chosen to interact with. But if I don’t choose them, do you think that they would be extremely disappointed? Would they be sad? Because of this, would they stop being my fan and start destroying me instead? In the entertainment circle there’s a methodology: it doesn’t matter which artist, if they start doing well the fans wil stop being fans and start tearing you down instead. Let me tell you, there is not one artist in this circle who isn’t afraid of this happening to them. It doesn’t matter how big of a celebrity you are, or whether you’re an actor or singer. Everyone is afraid of this technique.

LYN: Let’s not talk about anyone else but use myself as an example. When I am shooting a drama, there are people taking sneaky pictures of me and selling them online. Let’s say they’re sold at 10rmb per photo, and someone spends 100rmb to buy ten photos. Let’s say it’s 2024.06.28- and they like LYN. When they’re looking at the photos it’s under the filter of beng a fan. They can PS or use some filter to make the photos look nice and pretty. White and shining. Young and handsome. They post those edited photos online or onto some short video platform. Okay. LYN: Let’s say on 06.29- or- today, I am looking for five fans to connect with on my stream, and I do not end up choosing the girl who bought ten photos of me. She gets angry. “I want to connect with LYN, because I have so much I want to say to him!” Of the five fans I choose, I don’t choose her. Tomorrow, on 06.29, there will be 10 raw (unedited) photos released. Maybe super unedited. She’ll put the edited and unedited photos next to each other and post, “This is the LYN you all know.” It’s not worth it. C: The unedited photos also look good! LYN: That’s why I’m saying, you have the fan-goggles on. Let me tell you something- in this industry there is not one artist who doesn’t have ugly photos. Name one. Let’s say you have a name in your head, and you’re thinking, “This person is so good-looking!” then you search this person’s name with “___ ugly photo” at the end. See what the results are. You don’t need to type people’s names into my chat! Just think of a name and search it yourself. There’s not one person who doesn’t have them. That’s why when fans tell me that they think I’m handsome I want to reply that it’s because of the fan-goggles. I’m not handsome. I’m afraid, too. So let’s not connect next time.

LYN: I hope, though, that those of you who are watching my stream right now- most of you, about 80% are my fans. 80% of you are my fans, so starting today could we swear a sacred oath (歃血为盟 - smear the lips with blood when taking an oath)? If one day you stop being my fan, could you not destroy me on your way out? Can you promise me that? Let’s sign an agreement today June 28, 2024, that one day if you stop being my fan you won’t step on me on the way out. Can you do that? You can leave, but not at my expense. Can you? LYN: I have blood on my hand- it’s mosquito blood. The scared oath. I’ve got the blood. LYN: That’s the first thing, not to step on me on your way out. The second is, many of you probably go online to buy leaked photos. If one day you stop being my fan, could you format your storage disk? Format your storage disk for me. Can you do it? Promise me. Thank you. You can do it. LYN: It’s a gentleman’s agreement.

C: Ning-ge, where can I buy leaked news and photos? LYN: The fact that you’re even asking me this question now means that you should never go to buy them. I see you typing those words from through the monitor and can see your innocent eyes! If you go outside, you’re likely to get scammed by others!! Don’t go online trying to buy these things and end up getting scammed! I can tell how innocent you are from the fact that you’ve typed that questions. Your eyes still shine with light and you can see the word “INNOCENT” in them. Don’t even think about it. If you’re scrolling your phone and come across what others have bought and posted, you can look. But don’t even think about purchasing them for yourself. You don’t need to spend your own money for it. There’s no need.

C: Ning-ge, if I had bad photos of you I wouldn’t erase them. I’ll sell them to you. LYN: That’s a little bit illegal. Are you a criminal? Are you blackmailing me?? “Ning-ge, I have a BUNCH of ugly photos of you. Send me 200rmb immediately or I’ll post them all online.”

C: Ning-ge, will you still stream in ten years? LYN: I don’t think I would still be acting in ten years, but I’m sure that in ten years I will still be streaming. Whether as an actor or a singer, there will always come the possibility that you will be struck out or replaced over time. But streaming is something that I personally want to do. It is not influenced by outside factors. As long as you give me a platform, as long as Weibo allows me to stream, I will keep streaming. That’s all there is to it. I only need a platform and I will stream willingly. But for acting, it’s other people who find me to act- it’s passive.

C: Do a few magazine shoots. LYN: Magazines… I don’t have the time to do them. I also think… I’m too ugly and I’m not worthy to be in magazines. [t/n: He’s also said before that he doesn’t want people to pay for something like a MAGAZINE, just because he’s in it. He wants people to spend money on things that can be of use.]

C: Do you want to be Weibo Livestream King for 10 consecutive years?? LYN: Livestream King is a great honor to me. I’ll try hard to make it happen. I’ll do my best. C: Start a live-streaming industry. LYN: No, I should just do my own stream well. I can’t be involved in any sort of industry.

C: Ning-ge, in ten years become a streaming-type yxh. LYN: …? For what?? I already said that when I was 60- was it 60 or 70? I forgot.- that I would share everything I’ve encountered in this entertainment industry with you. LYN: Was it 60? Then when I’m 60.

C: Lao-da, could I take your raw photos and trade them for an autographed one? LYN: … LYN: “Ning-ge, in this card I have 10 unedited photos of you. Could I trade them for a personalized autographed photo? Okay? I hope that you can write: “___ is the most beautiful.”” LYN: The way they’ve done this has avoided punishment under law. Because it’s true that they’re not doing it for profit or anything, not that I understand it very much. That is- I don’t think it’s worth suing you over… But this underhanded tactic does make me a little uncomfortable. LYN: But let me tell you- everyone’s words can create an image of your face. Through the words you’ve typed, I can imagine your face and the tone of your voice. For example, for the person earlier I’ve already described their face: two big round eyes, full of clarity. “Ning-ge, where can I buy leaked news and photos?” They were like that- I’m sure they’re as I imitated just now. Now this person, I’m sure, looks like this: “Xiao Ning-ah.. If I were to have your unedited photos and I wanted to exchange them for a personalized autograph… Can I?” They must be like that! Cunning and wicked. Friends, I’m sure they’re like that. How terrifying! LYN: The friend who asked this question, you can go look in the mirror. Tell me I didn’t look just like you.

C: Ning-ge, you’re on my glasses case and my teacher saw it. Should I cower? LYN: Through this comment, this friend has already got me figuring out what they look like and how they speak. /repeats the question/ You must look like this- /puts on a pair of round frames and makes himself a little… nerdy looking and innocent, I guess/. Go look in the mirror, do you look like this? It’s… innocent, but sincere. Sincere, but also a little cute and naive. That’s you. Go look in the mirror.

C: Ning-ge, why don’t you go on Call Me by Fire? LYN: /laughs/ CMBF is… is that the sisters or the brothers? The brothers, right? The thing is, a while ago Yizhe was (going to be) on it. I think he was on it. That’s what I heard- or rather, he had sent me a message. If I call him Yizhe, you might not know- it’s Qian Zhao (YNGS). If I am NYZ, he is QZ. You get it if I put it that way, right? So, QZ went to attend CMBF, I think. He wanted me to record a short video for him, to cheer him on. I asked him, “What am I supposed to say?” and he said, “Just cheer me on. We’re friends, right? So you can say, “I heard WYZ is going to be on this show, and I hope he gets a good ranking.” It’s just like supporting you for the gaokao. LYN: But I was thinking- If I’m going to record a message for him, I want to be different from the others. I need to record something like, “Hello, everyone. I am Liu Yuning. In CMBF, I hope my good friend Yizhe can show off his charms, get a good ranking, and debut in the final group!” That’s standard, right? But I wanted to be different. I wanted to record something that would make people remember WYZ and remember LYN. Maybe even hate me. Because I also have a good friend called Fang Yilun- that is, Yu Shisan (YNGS). I’m saying it this way so you can better put a face to the name. YSS. He was on CMBF last year (actually, 2022), but he only went for one round. (一轮 - yī lún). So… his name was not very auspicious. Fang Yilun, who was only on the show for one round (yī lún). I was thinking of recording one for WYZ, “Hello, everyone. I am Liu Yuning. I’m YZ’s friend and heard he would be attending CMBF. We have a good friend in common, FYL, but he came back after the first round. Therefore, since your name is Wang Yizhe, you- might only be there for one part.” But I was thinking about it and came to the conclusion that wasn’t quite appropriate. One’s Yilun and the other’s Yizhe… that’s not good! So later I thought this joke wouldn’t fly. My friends would have a falling out! So then I just recorded a standard one for him. LYN: I just shouldn’t have thought in that direction in the first place. I don’t know how the competition is going, and I don’t dare to ask him. Of course, I don’t mean to belittle him! When I was on Singer 2019, I came back after one round too, didn’t I. That’s why I’m called… Liu Yining (一宁). I went and very obediently, very serenely (宁静) came back. I went, kept introducing myself- “I am Liu Yining” and came back. Only one round. It’s the same. We’re all the same. Our names just aren’t auspicious. We aren’t suited for competitions.

LYN: Alright friends, it’s about time. I hope you had a relaxing, happy, and wonderful night. It was great to have you and I hope you enjoyed yourself. Let’s meet again in the next stream! If you haven’t yet subscribed to my weibo, please do so. I am Modern Brothers Liu Yuning. I hope we can meet again in the next stream. LYN: I’ll go wash up quickly and review my scenes for tomorrow. Goodnight, everyone!

#Liu Yuning #lyn livestream #(2:44:24)

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iminhiraeth · 1 year ago

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Limoreau Fic Ideas

because I have a terrible case of brainrot, I’m going to be listing all my fic ideas that I may or may not one day do. Who knows! But I figured I could share the brain thoughts in case somebody else needs a spark of inspiration :]

And Lmk if I should do more!! I’d absolutely be down to, but this is just a lil test of interest for neow. (Would also 100% be open with getting asks for blurbs like this on certain AU’s or concepts :])

Supernatural AU

Instead of 2 brothers on the road hunting the supernatural it’s Marie and Jordan, who are legacies of their monster hunter parents and are having to work together after their parents gave them an assignment before suddenly disappearing. Bonus points if Marie is actually a vampire and has to keep it under wraps, or Marie was turned into a vampire the same night Jordan was turned into a werewolf because the two of them were way too brave and confident they could handle a hunt on their own at the age of like. 8 or 9. Caused a lot of tension ofc because their families are HUNTERS !! Could be with super powers still except those with powers are all hunters and it’s like. A semi underground society that’s like idk. Men in black type of deal.

AU with boxer!Jordan

This one I imagine less as professional boxing and more as a sort of fight club. Everyone meets at a location that’s given only a day prior so they don’t get caught bc this shit is illegal, and Marie is dragged out to one by Emma bc Sam sometimes participates to blow off some steam. Marie ends up being the one who makes sure Jordan is alright after fights bc! I also think they’re only allowed to be in their fem form for the fights. (Due to make form being invulnerable to attacks.) Also sort of secret society but majority students in God U find out about it if the circles your in deem you worthy. (Aka you won’t snitch.) Jordan probably really gets a kick out of it too because they don’t have to be perfect in that space, and fighting just gives them some time to not have to think about anything else. Their parents were likely very strict and although God U does have public training n shit for crime fighting students, it could be that there’s just a lot less rules for these fights n’ nobody is nitpicking their form so they don’t have to worry about looking hero worthy. Just some college kids fighting underground, and maybe there’s a thing about there being an after party that usually turn out to be the best parties on campus. 100% just an excuse to have Marie patching up Jordan n being all hot n bothered over how they look in a fight. Bonus points if Jordan starts training Marie too and she starts signing up for fights.

Camp Counselors AU

This one explains itself honestly. Limoreau being rival camp counselors and always putting their teams against each other or some shit. They have a tally of their wins and have some sort of bet going on. After like their first year every other counselor was like why don’t you two just fuck already we’re tired of watching you flirt. Bonus points if it’s them reuniting after having gone to that camp when they were kids n even then we’re like. SERIOUS rivals. They could not get along for the life of them, but maybe one of them moved n they stood in the parking lot that year wanting to hug but not knowing if they were even friendly enough for that. They miss each other, much to their surprise, but then like idk 4-5 years later they coincidentally (Jordan for nostalgia?? Or bc their friends were like we should do something random for the summer… N maybe Marie because Annabeth wanted to go to the same camp for the summer.) both chose to come back to be counselors n when their friends try to introduce them they’re like we know each other already. (Likely Cate, Andre, Luke with Jordan and Marie with Emma and Sam??) Their homies then bear witness to the most sexually charged banter they have ever seen n are like you two… hate each other?? Are you sure?

Pirate/Siren AU

Pirate Jordan….. Siren Marie….. Froths at the mouth. That’s it, that’s the AU. I have no further thoughts other than Jordan washing up on fantasy island n Marie is laying there sunbathing next to them all oh ur awake!! Jordan short existential crisis of being attracted to a fish n then being relieved when Marie can change into a purely human form with small differences. (Sharper teeth and nails, a pointed tongue, a little more cat-like pupils, and a sort of strange gait to the way she walks.)

Alternatively, for Pirate/Siren, it could also be Pirate/Succubus

Marie ending up separated from her family after landing in human territory, Eek! Maybe b/c they’re like.. fantasy land royalty and we’re trying to strike a deal with this part of human land but then BAM betrayal, and as they’re fleeing Marie somehow gets pulled apart from them n their like find ur way back!! We’ll send Emma to come help you!! Jordan on the other hand is in search for a treasure that’s located in fantasy creature territory, and is in search of another crewmate after one jumped board. Marie gets rejected at first, since Jordan does not recognize her to be a succubus at first bc maybe… she has some magical amulet from her parents that blocks that perception of her for her own safety. Nor do they recognize her as royalty b/c I think it’d be fun if Marie was sort of? A veiled princess, nobody truly knows what she looks like but they’ve heard stories of what power she inherited. (Thinking that royal lineages are the ones who are supes.) Anyways, maybe that areas guards see her n recognize something she’s wearing so she’s like fuck it I’m jumping on board anyways Idc if you rejected me, n maybe it’s Cate who’s like ur in, I don’t know why Jordan was being an ass. Fairy!Emma joins them too either right after seeing Marie get on board or she was the one to be like FUCK WE HAVE NO OTHER OPTION JUST HOP IN !!

Bonus points if Jordan and Marie save each other at least once, and there’s cute moments of Marie showing Jordan places that are off their map (magic areas with like, cute little fantasy animals n just beautiful scenery bc I love that shit.) Marie basically on the run with Emma, maybe there’s also a part of the plot line where Marie has to deliver something to some magical beast or she was just tired! Of being holed up in that kingdoms castle just bc of her powers. Honestly could end with them reaching the place n Marie n Jordan are like strange that this is the same place I was going. N then they keep walking on the same path n their like are we… going to the same place right now. Edit: Forgot to add that Jordan would also probably come from a royal line, along with Cate, Andre, Luke and Sam! (Luke probably abandoning his position as king for some reason that could be adjacent to the whole situation with The Woods where instead of a virus being created it was just. An experimentation on Sam to try and see if they could come up with what essentially would be Compound V)

Post-Apocalypse AU

You can guess how majority of this goes. Could be that Compound V was made a lot earlier but somehow mutated and not only infected Supes, but also infected humans, which made them into zombies. Supes powers are dwindled down exponentially but they’re still a lot more enhanced in comparison to human zombies. Maybe Marie is on her own and finally thinking she’s reached the end of her line but then Andre comes in n is like hey!! Come with me lol I have a group n you seem cool. Andre explains to her that they’ve been on the search for a safe-haven they’ve been hearing about, and Marie is absolutely wowed bc she didn’t know any talk of that. Jordan is obviously irritated bc they’re like Marie is just body to protect and another mouth to feed W’s he’ll just slow them down blah blah blah. The usual Jordan looking out for themself first and foremost, but veiling it as a group thing. (Thinking it could be because they lost Luke n Brink n they just. Can’t take another loss like that, n it sort of feels like they’re just trying to fill a gap if they let Marie in. And they’d rather not stick their neck out for some stranger.)

Journey is long, Marie and Jordan have their moments of bickering and absolutely not getting along at first but after they find each other awake at night, both awoken by nightmares, they have a conversation and make a truce. They still snap at each other a little because they’re learning how to navigate one another but they’re noticeably a lot more friendly n are able to make jokes with one another. The group is like DAMN FINALLY !! Got sick n tired of hearing them constantly arguing. (Can especially see this situation bringing out the differences in Marie and Jordan’s moral compass. I feel like when in this setting, Jordan is a lot more willing to let others die if it means keeping loved ones safe. A lot more violent and unhinged and generally just a little bit scary, whereas Marie is the one who tries to see the good in people first instead of second even now. She’s more empathetic to the fact these zombies were humans once too, which could attribute to maybe Marie losing Annabeth to the virus. (Thinking that in this AU, bc compound V was made earlier that Marie’s powers didn’t show up until the apocalypse had already begun and possibly her parents were just in the line of fire when she freaked on a group of zombies, n Annabeth ended up bit but didn’t say anything. Except she was extremely irritable, slowly grew more sick, and eventually Marie had to lock Annie up n tried so hard to keep her alive until she realized forcing Annabeth to live like this was just cruel.) Marie probably ends up learning her lesson after a group they encounter stabs them in the back after Marie had JUST advocated for them. Jordan initially is rlly mad n is all up in arms about it bc they told her! They fucking told her! But quickly comes around when they realize Marie is genuinely having a whole factory reset bc of this n it just. Changes her perception completely, n Jordan almost mourns the fact that Marie had to learn things the hard away n they can’t just. Protect her from everything all the time.

#limoreau #mariejordan #gen v #marie x jordan #jordan li #marie moreau #gen v fanfiction #alternate universe #fic ideas

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fordofthefalls · 1 month ago

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[OOC: Thanks for the go ahead! Anyway, I offer my boiyo! Gave him his own blog on @aeschylusmaximillianpines soley for RP purposes :D Thinking this might be post-weirdmageddon where everybody's back in gravity falls for the summer?]

The multiverse theory was a doozy in and of itself, an infinite amount of possibilities for anything and everything. As Aeschylus stepped out of the rift with a tired huff, he pulled down the red neckerchief that he'd been using as a makeshift mask. He cringed at the state his coat was in, sure- it's seen better days ever since coming into his possession but he was fairly certain his father would've definitely have dragged it through worse. Fairly certain.

It wasn't a trenchcoat anymore, having altered it to be a windbreaker at best more than a decade ago- but Aeschylus was really thankful for the numerous large pockets his old man had added to it while it was still his. He took out the steel blue fountain pen from the breastpocket of the coat before taking out a blue hardbound from the inside of his coat to jot down a couple things. After a minute, the brunette closed it with a sigh and ran a hand through his brown hair. Some parts already started to lighten and streak grey, he could distinctly remember his siblings teasing him that it was because of stress.

After properly dusting himself off and keeping his belongings, Aeschylus supposed it was time to head home. His brain was running on caffeine and autopilot by now, all the more when he simply walked towards the mystery shack half nodding off. He hadn't noticed that in his semi-conscious brain that he'd wandered into a similar universe- but not home.

"Hey dad! I've got the plant specimen you wanted, gave me hell trying to catch it though. What did you need this mutated Caesar salad for anyway-"

Aeschylus trailed off when he came face to face with the man in question, but something felt off. Sure, it was like staring into an aged mirror- he got used to that- but there was something different. Mismatched eyes squinted at Stanford skeptically.

"Uh... you're not my dad."

[OOC: Here's pictures of him for reference, he doesn't slick his hair back anymore post-weirdmageddon; but he does continue mostly wearing that fit. Like Ford- it's like he only has ONE OUTFIT EVER/j SORRY FOR THE TEXT DUMP IF ANYTHING- THIS IS NORMALLY HOW I RP T^T]

Stanford was sitting at the dining table, tinkering away at a machine, the sound of metal clanging on metal echoing throughout the room. It was late in the evening and the house was quiet, save for the whir of machines. Ford's brow was furrowed, his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth, and his full attention was focused on the task at hand. He was attempting to repair a device that had been damaged while at sea. When he was finished, he leaned back in his chair, setting the screwdriver down with a clatter. He'd have Fidds take a look over it before he switched it back on. (continued below the cut~)

Upon hearing a voice, his eyes snapped up to find Aeschylus. For a moment he just stared, taking in the young man's appearance, his eyes wide. He was a hundred percent sure he didn't have a son. He had just started dating again after all, and... well. His last partner had been a triangular demon from another dimension. Who was this kid?

"Excuse me?" Ford asked, his voice hoarse from disuse, his expression one of utter confusion. "I'm sorry, but I'm not your father." Ford shifted in his seat, his curiosity getting the better of him as he studied the boy closely. It was odd, he thought. The boy did bear a striking resemblance to him. He shook his head, dismissing the idea. He didn't know who his father was, but it wasn't him. He wasn't the type to have kids, and he had no memory of ever being in a relationship that would have led to a child.

His thoughts were racing. Maybe the boy was confused... or some kind of con artist. Or perhaps... this was more multiversal than he thought. After all, when it came to the multiverse, anything was possible. No, this was real. The boy in front of him was a stranger, not his son. Yet he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of connection to him, a pull that was difficult to explain. Perhaps it was the similarity in their appearances, or maybe it was something else.

"Who are you?" Ford finally asked, his tone serious and a little suspicious.

(OOC: Apologies for the wait!)

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captain-peanut110 · 2 years ago

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Imagine if things in Gondolin used to be like, “old fashioned” and stuff

Everyone wore long robes, long pants and long sleeves, intricate armour and such

There was little touching outside of one’s family and most conversations were had in a formal way, even amongst friends

Glorfindel died before any of that began to change and in the hustle of being back from the dead and a war going on, he did not give much thought to the whole norms of socialisation business

After he settles in Imladris nothing seems to different, until one evening he is staying up late, talking to Erestor in his office. It is a hot summer night and Erestor is incredibly tired from all of his work.

He rests his head atop a pile of duty reports and reaches to undo the buttons of his long sleeved robes, pushing the heavy fabric off his shoulders.

It drops with a quiet rustle, attracting Glorfindel’s attention and a moment later he feels his face heat up and his eyes dart over Erestor’s exposed neck and collarbones, his white undershirt looking way too translucent in the candle light.

He rolls his sleeves up and rubs his temples exhaustedly, too distracted to notice Glorfindel’s reaction.

Glorfindel starts praying to the Valar to take him back, doing his best not to look at Erestor.

He does not notice Erestor’s concerned gaze, nor does he realise that his friend got up from his chair, until he’s standing right in front of mortified warrior.

“Your face looks very red, are you unwell from the heat?” Erestor asks and before Glorfindel can answer, reaches out to touch his forehead.

Glorfindel freezes, not sure what is going on and Erestor brushes a strand of his hair away from his face.

At that Glorfindel gets up faster than should be possible and runs away, muttering something about a sudden urgent guards business he forgot all about.

Erestor tries to stop him and grabs his hand, which absolutely short-circuits the poor ellon’s brain.

Erestor is left standing in his office, absolutely confused and in his usual pessimistic manner concludes that Glorfindel doesn’t like him.

Glorfindel sits down under a tree right outside and tries to catch his breath, wondering what has gotten into Erestor’s head. How could they possibly hold hands without being married.

Celebrian finds his there during her evening walk and for a moment fears something ill had befallen the captain.

Yet Glorfindel just looks up her with an absolutely scandalised expression and whispers. “Erestor made advances towards me.”

Celebrian is naturally shocked, Erestor being the last person she would ever suspect of anything untoward.

“He touched my forehead. And my hair.” Glorfindel’s face turns red again.

“And before that, he… He discarded his formal robe and pulled his sleeves up.” He turns to Celebrian with eyes wide with horror, as she is doing her bestest not to laugh. “I could see his collarbones. Collarbones!”

Celebrian is now the one praying for strength not to embarrass herself and Glorfindel with sudden laughter, remembering her mother’s stories about the peculiar ways of the old.

“And then…” Glorfindel does not seem to notice her struggle, his thoughts still undoubtedly way too focused on Erestor’s shameful collarbones.

“Then he tried to grab my hand and at that point I wasn’t even sure what he was saying, I made up some flimsy excuse and ran.”

Celebrian nods solemnly, not daring herself to speak and calla in her mind to her husband, hoping by some miracle of Eru’s he would not be asleep yet and could come to her aid. There is simply no way she is going to have the conversation with the Valars’ blessed emissary all by herself.

“I think I’m going to have to marry him now, to keep both of us honest.”

Celebrian shakes her head, fighting another bout of laughter, thankful it had not been Lindir or one of her beloved children that happened to witness Glorfindel’s breakdown. Or better yet, Ereinion back in the day.

She imagines the High Kings face lighting up with an involuntary smile, seeing the legendary Glorfindel of Gondolin loose his wits over a councillor’s collarbones and feels a warm and happy feeling flood her chest.

“How can I ever face him again?”

Glorfindel seems to be talking directly to her now and she snaps out of her thoughts before the warmth memories of Ereinion always bring is shattered by an icy cold reminder of his fall.

Thankfully and perhaps with divine intervention, that is the exact moment Elrond steppes into view, looking at his wire clearly struggling not to smile and Glorfindel, sitting on the ground and looking mortified.

He recounts the indecent experience once again and Celebrian is grateful for Elrond serving as a distraction and turns head away to laugh silently with no one but the stars to witness.

She is about to excuse herself and leave her unfortunate husband to deal with his friend’s embarrassment, when she spots a lone figure in the distance and follows the familiar shape after a short word with Elrond.

It indeed turns our to be Erestor, looming the gardens like a shadow, his hair hanging loosely and obscuring his face from view.

He is wearing no robes over his white shirt and one of its sleeves appears to be torn.

“Erestor?”

Celebrian steps up to the councillor, announcing herself not to startle him.

He turns to face her and in the dim starlight his eyes are dark and endless voids of sadness upon his pale and indifferent face.

“My most revered lady.” He greets her with a bow or his head and a smile, though it looks out of place next to the sorrow in his eyes.

“To have been blessed with your fair presence is a gift this wretched evening.”

Celebrian takes a step closer to lay her hand upon his cheek. He looks about to run from her, and perhaps had it been anybody else, he would have, yet the friendship that grew between them over the years meant she was perhaps the only one he would honestly speak his troubles to.

“I believe the noble Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin desires to be wed to you, councillor.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady?”

Erestor looks at her in astonishment.

“He believes it is the only way to preserve your and his own decency after the absolutely scandalous and entirely inappropriate way you behaved towards him in your office.”

Erestor’s eyebrows shoot up with astonishing speed.

“What?”

“Collarbones, councillor.” Celebrian can no longer keep herself from laughter, taking in the councillor’s bewildered expression.

“It is all very simple - you have shamelessly displayed your collarbones and both of your entire forearms to the noble lord, as well as attempted to hold his hand before marriage, which compels the noble lord to wed you and spare both of your from this shame.”

Erestor appears about to start laughing or perhaps crying, Celebrian is not entirely certain of that.

She pats his shoulder gently, giving him a look similar to the one her children would get after getting into inevitable trouble due not knowing something vital in their young age.

“He is a lord of Gondolin from the first age. The last time he socialised with people rolling your sleeves up would be akin to taking all your clothes off in public. He might have gotten slightly traumatised by your collarbones, but at least we now know he wants to marry you.”

“I wish I was dead right now.”

“Elrond is the one I left with Glorfindel. He is going to have to tell him you are allowed to hold hands before marriage now.” She laughs once again. “I do hope he does bring Ereinion up. It is doubtful the noble lord could ever recover from that conversation.”

Erestor laughs.

“I think I ought to apologise. Clear everything up between the two of us.”

She is about to tell him what a terrible it would be to go talk to Glorfindel at the moment, yet does not have the time before he is already off, waving his sleeveless arm at Glorfindel, who attempts to hide behind the nearly laughing Elrond.

Idk what this is, ahahaha

The only reason this exists is because i imagined the first age having victorian era style ankle freak-outs and because I desperately believe Erestor and Celebrian are best friends.

It’s 2:20 am and I have to wake up at 5 :)))

And so i wrote whatever the fuck this is instead. Cheers!

#erestor #glorfindel #glorestor #imladris #elrond #celebrian #first age #third age

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ynmnrmt · 9 months ago

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You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 6

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 3,831

warnings: explicit sexual content, themes of domination/submission, dubiously consensual nonmonogamy, nonconsensual sex

a/n: So, I could flannel and wring my hands here and claim there's a grey area, but I'm not going to - this chapter contains an explicit rape scene which I am presenting as erotic material. I'm not fucking around here, I'm stating this clearly for the benefit of you the reader, if you don't like the sound of that do not read on. If, on the other hand, you do like the sound of that, then SMASH THAT KEEP READING

(The story so far: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five)

Jennifer is away for work. Another dreary training seminar in the middle of nowhere. She always apologises as she recounts it all for how boring it all is, be it a word association game about customer retention, or sitting in a circle to pass a ball back and forth which somehow represents customer satisfaction, or even attempting to collectively manifest customer relations.

“It’s the ball one again,” she confesses, framed awkwardly in your phone, so that it looks like she is looking up at you from the upside-down world. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, I need to find something better than this.”

“You’ll be back by the end of the week,” you say, in a cheery hand-on-the-shoulder way.

“And I know we said we were going to have phone sex,” even having negotiated it at length you do have a little tingle of surprise to hear her say it, “but they booked us all double rooms. We’re all fucking paired up, I don’t have a minute to myself.”

“I wish,” you say, and mean it, “I could reach through the screen and hold you in my arms and make everything better.”

In the background as you say this, the door rattles and Rhea walks in, glowing from her run. “Is that Jen?” she mouths – then, without waiting for a reply jumps into view next to you. “Hey, sexy,” she waves hello, then sing-songs “missing you” and pulls your phone up to her face to give the screen a sloppy wet kiss.

“Hey, Rhea,” says Jennifer, still downcast and tired. “God, I wish you guys were here. We’d find a way to fit in a double room, obviously.” You and Rhea both chuckle at that. Her arm is pressed against yours, damp with sweat, it is all too apparent she has been for a run – and it makes your heart beat faster, remembering the long hot summer when the water and electricity were off. Then Jennifer is distracted. “Oh hell, I’m sorry, I have to go. The counting mung beans workshop just started. I’ll speak to you soon. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

“Love you,” you say.

“Love y-” adds Rhea, but then the call cuts off. “Oh, poor thing.” She plucks at her neckline, takes a whiff of herself, and jerks her head back. “God – excuse me!” And she repairs off to the shower, even though you don’t mind at all and tell her so, the dark stains on the back of her shirt define the muscles underneath so beautifully it doesn’t even occur to your lizard brain to look at her ass until she’s already out of the room.

Try not to have too much fun, the words rattle in your mind. Jennifer has gone off to this tedious seminar, leaving you alone with your other girlfriend, and worse still is being so impossibly nice about it all. You clench a fist and pound the couch – you don’t wish you were there with her, you wish she was back here, happy and safe. Yes, and you also wish you earned enough that constant horrible work outings didn’t have to be part of her life.

You resolve to have all the things she likes waiting for her on her return, a great elaborate gesture, anything to try and show the depths of your feelings. All the pillars and domed roofs of your grand design turn into fog when Rhea emerges from the shower, fresh and pink in just a towel, to skip through to her room. That image, her shy little smile as she clutches the towel to herself, remains burned into your consciousness long after she comes back through, dressed now, and flops on the couch next to you to cool off.

“I wish we were there with her too,” she muses, head back on the cushions. “We could cheer her up. Not like that,” she adds, and gives you a playful shove, even though you neither said anything nor changed your demeanour in any way.

“They don’t make you go on any awful training days, do they?” you ask.

“There’s enough health and safety shit. It’s not like it was.” Yes, there’s one you can nod sagely at, because nothing’s like it was. She’s spread out next to you, still warm from the shower, and you try not to let it distract you, but through the material of her quite conservative shorts, you can make out the shape of her vulva. “Ah, I can’t wait till Jen’s back – although I do like it when it’s just us. Sometimes, it’s sort of like we’re cheating on her.”

“Yeah,” you reflect.

“But we’re not, obviously.”

“See, sometimes I worry about where exactly the lines can be drawn, and-”

“Oh, I think I pulled something,” groans Rhea, and plops her leg in your lap. “Would you rub my calves?” It would be rude to say no, that’s what you tell yourself, but you barely need the prompt to put your hands on her. And when you do it’s not even a rub but more of a squeeze, a grope, hungry grabs at her body and her tattooed flesh – but this seems to do the job, because she swivels around in her seat to throw her other leg over you too.

“Look, Rhea,” you say, now doing something to the muscles of her calf that’s between a massage and a gentle pull, trying to get back to the point, “Jen’s really special to me, and-”

“And to me!” Rhea sits forward, in wholehearted agreement. “If she was here, you could take a leg each, instead of you having to do them both yourself.” You can’t even object to the simple purity of the idea. “You know I would never do anything to hurt her, right?” And you nod, there’s no polite way to question that. “So obviously I’d never cheat on her, just like you wouldn’t, but, um, sometimes it’s fun to pretend, you know? I hope she’s thinking about us right now, I hope we can at least cheer her up that way.” Her legs are like an unimaginably comforting blanket, right over your lap.

“I hope so too,” you say vaguely, as you try to shift so she doesn’t notice your hard-on, then you make the complete wrong move and bump it into her.

“See,” she says, as if she’s about to share a secret, “I know how much you love her, you’ve got a boner just talking about her.”

“She’s very special,” you reply, wanting to hang your head in shame.

“She’s perfect,” says Rhea, now she’s got her arms around you, she’s crept closer so it’s her thighs across you, but she’s not actually sitting in your lap and you really have your doubts that would work. As your erection tries to winkle its way between her legs, she muses on “I’ve honestly never been happier, than I have with you guys...and I was proud to wreck that guy who tried messing with you.”

Immediately you feel awkward, far more awkward than you did simply poking at her. Three of them, there had been, and Rhea went for them without a second’s hesitation. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything there,” you say, and squeeze her thigh like a child, hoping for forgiveness.

“Oh, sweetie, no, you don’t need to be – look,” she says, she sweeps her legs down and comes forward to look you in the eye, “I know when most people say this stuff, they’re just saying it, but I genuinely don’t believe you’re obliged to act in a certain way because of your gender. I really don’t.” And she gives you the sweetest smile, for a moment you cannot bear to meet her gaze. “Besides,” she adds, “I get a bit of a thrill showing I’m stronger than men.”

“Oh,” you react, unable to even try and conceal your own excitement.

“And the thing is,” she says, gently taking your hands in hers, “it’s for exactly all those reasons that I say I reject, all those gender conventions – which I guess makes me the biggest hypocrite in the world.”

“No, you’re not,” you insist, for reasons that have nothing to do with the actual question. “And – and I hope you never feel anything less than perfectly feminine.” Which is probably the wrong thing to say, but you squeeze her hands, and she squeezes yours back and beams – and then she grips them hand and brings them up over your head. You fall back and now she’s on top of you.

“One of the things I always felt was really unfair,” she husks, the cloud of her hot breath making your head spin, as she gets both your hands gripped firmly in one of hers, “is how, in a lot of places, legally speaking women can’t rape men – which is just nonsense.”

“Yeah, i-it’s just stupid,” you agree too quickly, and it’s true, you always thought that was profoundly unjust on the face of it, though any outrage you felt was eclipsed by the little twinge it gave you imagining yourself in that scenario. Your cock is still pressed excruciatingly against her legs, but now it’s from the front, and again you squirm to try and make it better and make it a hundred times worse. It was a crazy thought anyway, it was hardly even a thought, obviously there’s no escape from her goddess-thighs – and if there was, could you bring yourself to take it?

“And I imagine the worst part is when they do get an erection,” she says in an irresistible, candlelit voice, “and they worry that on some level they did want it – which is bound to get really confusing if, like a lot of people, they have secret fantasies about someone they like doing that to them. I know I do.”

“I would be happy to help you with that,” you say immediately, any filter between mind and tongue long gone. She giggles affectionately.

“How about you?” she asks, as she dances from side to side on her hands and knees over you, swaying gently from left to right and back again. “What if Jen just grabbed you and held you down sometime?” You daren’t answer, but then you don’t need to, not when you dig further into her thigh. “And obviously, she,” Rhea’s lips brush along the length of your face, it seems like it’s random, yes, and your erection is probably completely random too, “if you really wanted her to stop, she would, because she loves you.”

“But I couldn’t bear to ask her,” you casually confess, “not by that point,” and Rhea laughs in understanding fashion in a way that makes you laugh along with her, yes, neither of you could stand to deny her, not in that situation. Then, showing amazing skill with her one free hand, she’s unzipped your trousers and takes hold of your cock. “Wait,” you say, not saying no, just asking her to wait, “wait, Rhea, Jen’s not here-”

“Oh, I know,” she sympathises, as she eases down her shorts that barely concealed anything anyway, “but let’s pretend she is.”

“Rhea, seriously, wait-” and now she kisses you, properly, not an ounce of force behind it, just her mouth against yours. You squirm, you burn internally, in this moment you don’t love anyone quite as much as you love her. You even try to break out of the iron grasp of her hand around your wrists, you know she’s stronger than you, and maybe you didn’t really want to anyway. Then she moves and then you are inside her.

“You make me so wet when you wriggle,” she says, and she’s telling the truth, all you can see is the devilish delight on her face and the halo of light around it. Her next forceful kiss is a lick at first, up across your cheek while she fucks you, but your lips end up locked with hers all the same.

“Please,” you say, when your mouth is free of hers, “stop – help -” and all the while her hips bang against you, as if drawing poison from a wound, you do not want to call it rape even in your own head because it feels so good. The way she presses down on you, the way she squeezes you, of course you don’t resist.

“Oh fuck – oh fuck,” Rhea wails, her lip draws against your face with the worlds, she’s hardly even holding your wrists any more. In fact, she gives up on that and just takes hold of your arms with both hands, because “I love holding you this way – doesn’t it feel so sensual?” As she keeps going you hear something break in the couch and her vulnerability makes your heart run liquid, you feel bad at having resisted at all.

“Rhea,” you try not to choke, “I don’t want this-”

“Oh sweetie, I don’t want it to end either, I’m so close already – please, hold out a little longer for me, please do that for me,” it seems like every word is punctuated with the light headbutt of her kissing you again. Because you love her you do hold on, as best you can without use of your hands, you bite your lip and project mental energy in any other direction, you feel your spine warp, and when she cries out with joy you can no longer resist and go off, torrential inside her. But her magnificent form doesn’t stop moving, the way she goes up and down your cock isn’t even slowed, perhaps it’s sheer momentum but more likely every lap she’s run and weight she’s lifted paying off. And as she keeps riding you and keeps enjoying it, the pain of her using a part of you that doesn’t want to be used, that, that is the finest feeling in the world.

You lie together afterwards, Rhea’s still on top, she sewing-machines the side of your neck with tiny pecks that are gentler than seems possible from her. “You’re perfect,” she confesses, in her post-sex flush that makes her seem flawless herself. “And the best part is, we know this is all okay. I know you worry about this, but Jen isn’t going to mind, not really.”

“Mm-hm,” you say, still not really convinced and muffled by Rhea’s hair anyway.

“I still feel all tingly thinking about it.” Yes, to be sure, you do too. “Obviously if we didn’t want it, that would be monstrous – but we did, so it’s just a fun, sexy thrill. I mean, if I thought I’d hurt you or something, I couldn’t forgive myself. Not for that.”

Immediately you conceive of this as the cruellest sort of manipulation. But deep down, you know it isn’t, not really, because you had wanted it, maybe not with a completely clear conscience, but you had, you’d burned for it. You squeeze her big, fabulous body, and for a moment you see her smile, as if she is blocking out the sun. Then she rests her head on you, between your chest and your shoulder, a gesture at normality that must have her long legs hanging off the end of the couch.

There’s a noise, a twinkle. It’s your phone. With Rhea on top of you, it’s some struggle to get your fingers into your pocket, but eventually you manage it. When you see Jen’s name pop up on the screen, there’s the familiar dread, the feeling that finally the other boot is about to drop. “What does our girlfriend say?” Rhea asks sweetly.

When you open the message, Jennifer hasn’t actually said anything. The message is a picture, her naked in striking moody light, the tangled bedsheet nearly covering one of her breasts. She hasn’t shown any of her face above the mouth, a sensible precaution, but at least now she looks as if she’s enjoying herself. You look at her arms, her stomach, soft and rounded where Rhea’s is hard, and not for the first time you wish she was here.

“Hello, hello,” says Rhea, you can feel the smirk twist her face. There’s another twinkle, and a text from your girlfriend pops up reading maybe you can pretend I’m there as well. God, how you’d love to. “Aww...she might just break my heart one day,” and Rhea’s lips are so close to yours that when she says it, your mouth moves too.

“She’s so pretty,” you say longingly, perhaps this moves Rhea’s mouth as well, and you want to cry but know you cannot show that weakness.

“Maybe, um, maybe we should go again? For her?” Her fingers rest lightly on your chest, but there’s no way in hell you could move them.

You had thought, an entirely theoretical but perfectly plausible grand plan, that you would greet Jennifer with a smorgasbord of all the things she likes. There would be the white chocolate cookies, and beer on ice – not wine, she feels faintly obliged to drink that on special occasions but you know what she’d choose given the chance. You’d have queued up one of those documentaries on Bigfoot hunters, yes, of course you and she would show up in the viewing figures the same as a genuine nut, but the craziness is still fun. And you’d have wrapped her up in a blanket and ordered in whatever takeout her little heart desired.

When Jennifer opens the door, she sees you on the couch, slimy with sweat and gasping for breath, wearing a t-shirt but no trousers or underwear, that least dignified form of nudity. She barely has time to put her suitcase down before Rhea creeps up from the side and snarls “You have no idea how much we missed you”, and grabs the front of her shirt. There is one sharp tug, the buttons spray everywhere, and for a moment she looks scared, horrified even – but that only lasts until Rhea bows her head and rubs her face in amongst Jennifer’s breasts.

“Oh!” flutters Jennifer. “Oh, Rhea…” And she shoots you the same sort of guilty glance you know you’ve given her more than once.

“And I missed these, too – come on, come sit with us,” though there’s no real request about it, Rhea scoops Jennifer up in her arms, and it seems as if they share a long slushy bonding look – but scarcely a second in Rhea throws her down on the couch, and you manage to scrabble out of the way just in time. Then you clutch her, protectively, though there’s no kind of protection you know how to offer that could stop Rhea as she flops her whole weight down on Jennifer’s other side.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you tell Jennifer, and for a while she doesn’t stop saying how much she loves you – pressing her face into your neck, as if something’s wrong. “H-” you gather yourself a little, “how was the – thing?”

“I’m fucking sick of it all,” she says, still nestled within you. “The whole time I was just thinking about being back here. With you.”

You find her hand and hold it tight. “You’re safe now,” you say gently.

“Yeah,” adds Rhea, “we’ve got you.”

“Have – have you two just been fucking, the whole time I’ve been away?” asks Jennifer. There’s no judgement in it, just curiosity, but it still goes straight to the black pit of your stomach.

“Not the whole time,” teases Rhea.

“You sent that picture,” you say, “it set us off,” and while this is true as you say it you know that it is a lie. And now you have the painful realisation that you never even sent a reply – but Jennifer giggles in response.

“There was one thing,” she adds, immediately you are in that intense, bottomless state of not knowing where this is going. “I did think – well, we’re not, Rhea, you don’t want children, right?”

Rhea runs a hand over her rock-hard stomach, as if imagining it swollen by pregnancy, and shrugs “Could be a novelty act, I don’t think it’s been done before.” Then she thinks, and says “There’s a reason for that, of course.”

“See, I just think,” Jennifer falters, she’s looking at you now, touching your chest, eyes full of hope, “I really wanted to – would you not come in her, any more?” And a nervous glance to Rhea with it.

“Yes!” you blurt out, faster than you’d meant to. “I mean, sure, if that’s what you want.”

Rhea gently takes Jennifer’s hands in hers, the muscles bulge in her arms but you can tell she’s not using any force here. “I have to ask,” she says, “is this about you wanting it all to yourself?” For a second, Jennifer is frozen. Then she nods, violently, all of her hair shaking with the motion. And Rhea’s expression softens, and she says “I’m so glad you said that. In fact, never mind that, I’m proud of you, I’m glad you’re setting a boundary. This whole time I’ve been worried that you’re just going along with all of this but really you haven’t actually liked it.”

“O-of course not!” insists Jennifer. Rhea smiles gently down at her, and kisses her gently on the cheek, another thing you really wish you’d done.

“Are you sure?” you ask her, and she gives you the same shaky, exaggerated nod she did before, but it’s the expression on her face that really gives you the answer.

“That’s good,” says Rhea, and brings her hands up to Jennifer’s shoulders, and starts to rub them gently. “Because in that case, I’ve got a surprise for you.” And she pulls Jennifer down, face-first, into her vagina, because of course she is not fully dressed either. “A nice sticky treat for you.”

Jennifer gives a little blocked “Hmph!” of surprise, but that gives way to the sloppier sounds of her tucking in to Rhea – and, yes, what Rhea took from you about half an hour ago. You goggle at them, not knowing what to think or do. Rhea looks fondly back at you, and with one hand in Jennifer’s hair reaches out to you with the other.

“I think she’d really like it-” Rhea begins – and then a little start, a flush, that shows Jennifer’s tongue has found a particularly soft area. She gathers herself and tries again, “I think you should do her from behind. Since she wants you so much.” And down between her thighs, there’s that frantic nod again.

You climb around behind Jennifer, and ease down her underwear – but before you do anything more you lean over her and whisper in her ear how much you love her, and how you want this to be good for her. Even when she says something that is of course muffled by Rhea’s vulva but sounds a lot like “fucking stick it in before I burst” it feels as if you are taking advantage.

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #rpf #rhea ripley fanfiction #rhea ripley smut

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