#this is just going off what we’ve got so far so it’s not anything concrete /lh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acute-crashout-jeyuso · 2 months ago

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Possession: a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley x Jimmy Uso fanfic.

Chapter 14: Ride by Somo..

Rhea stormed back to Roman’s tour bus, her boots thudding heavily against the concrete. The adrenaline from her backstage outburst hadn’t worn off, and her mood was still smoldering. She swung open the door to the tour bus and found Jimmy and Roman sitting inside, both leaning back as if they’d been waiting for her.

Jimmy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So? What’d they say?”

Rhea dropped into one of the seats, letting out a frustrated sigh. “They told me to cool it with the vulgar language.” She ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. “Like that’s the problem.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Well, it kinda is. You can’t just go around threatening half the roster and cussing on live TV.”

Rhea shot him a glare. “Don’t start, Joe. Tiffany’s the one who took it too far. Did you hear what she said to me? That’s not scripted heat—that’s personal.”

Jimmy crossed his arms. “Yeah, we heard. The crowd was eating it up, though. It’s messy as hell, but it’s working.”

“That’s not the point!” Rhea snapped, sitting up straighter. “I’m not just some pawn they can use to air out my personal life for ratings. They’ve already turned my life into a soap opera, and now I’ve got to work with her.”

Roman’s expression softened slightly. “I get it. But this is the business, Rhea. You know that better than anyone. Sometimes you’ve got to take the punches and roll with it.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, easy for you to say. No one’s dragging your name through the mud or making a joke out of your relationships.”

Jimmy shrugged. “True, but you’re the one out there proving you can handle it. You’re stealing the show. Hell, tonight’s segment is already trending.”

Rhea’s jaw clenched. “I don’t care about trends. I care about respect. And Tiffany? She doesn’t respect me. She thinks she can just say whatever she wants and get away with it.”

Roman leaned back, his arms crossed. “Then make her respect you. But do it smart, Rhea. You’ve got all the momentum right now. Don’t let her get under your skin and make you lose focus.”

Rhea leaned her head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. She hated to admit it, but Roman had a point. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll try to keep it together. But if she steps out of line again—”

Jimmy smirked. “We’ll be ready.”

Roman stood up and clapped her on the shoulder. “Good. Now take a minute and cool off. We’ve got the rest of the night to deal with.”

Rhea nodded, closing her eyes as they let her be. She might have agreed to play by the rules, but deep down, she knew the next time she and Tiffany crossed paths, all bets would be off.

Little did she know.. all bets had already been off…

—

SNME: San Antonio, TX January 25, 2025

Rhea tightened the laces on her boots, her movements methodical, her mind razor-sharp. Jimmy’s steady hands adjusted the collar of her leather jacket, ensuring everything was in place. Roman stood nearby, his arms folded, his eyes scanning them both with quiet intensity.

The past month had been a whirlwind, both on-screen and off. The rivalry between Rhea and Tiffany had become the must-see storyline, eclipsing everything else in WWE. The explosive segments, backstage brawls, and unpredictable encounters had cemented Rhea as a bona fide megastar. Her relentless pursuit of Tiffany, Ms. Money in the Bank, across RAW and SmackDown kept fans buzzing, and her star had risen to unprecedented heights, even rivaling Roman himself.

All the while, the feud between the Elevated Bloodline—Roman, Jimmy, and Rhea—and the remnants of the old Bloodline had grown more personal and vicious. Lines had been drawn, sides taken. Tiffany had thrown her lot in with Solo, Jacob, Tonga and Tama, becoming their smug, untouchable prize. It was clear they’d do anything to protect her.

Now, at Saturday Night’s Main Event, the tension had reached its peak. The long-awaited 3-on-5 handicap match was about to unfold.

Rhea stood and rolled her shoulders, her jacket shifting with the motion. Jimmy took a step back, giving her a once-over. “You good?”

She glanced at him, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Always.”

Roman’s voice cut through the tension, calm and commanding. “Tonight isn’t just another match. It’s a statement. We’re not just here to win; we’re here to end this.”

Rhea met his gaze, the fire in her eyes matching his intensity. “They started this. We finish it.”

The door opened, and a stagehand peeked in. “Five minutes.”

Roman nodded, then turned to Jimmy and Rhea. “Let’s go. Time to remind everyone why we run this.”

The three of them made their way toward the entrance curtain, their steps in sync, their presence magnetic. The energy of the crowd was palpable, their anticipation like a living thing.

Rhea didn’t need to look back; she could feel the weight of everything that had led to this moment—the betrayal, the anger, the fights, and the losses.

Jey hadn’t contacted her, and she hadn’t reached out either. The silence between them was deafening, but it didn’t matter anymore. There was no going back, no mending what had been shattered.

This was about personal grievances. It was also about dominance, about proving who truly controlled the narrative in WWE.

The familiar beat of Roman’s music hit, and the crowd erupted, their deafening roar echoing through the arena.

Tonight wasn’t just about settling scores.

It was about making history.

—

Michael Cole: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is it—the highly anticipated 3-on-5 handicap match between the Elevated Bloodline and the Old Bloodline! The stakes couldn’t be higher!”

Pat McAfee: “This is gonna be a straight-up war, Cole. You’ve got the biggest egos, the most dangerous forces, and a whole lot of bad blood!”

Michael Cole: “Speaking of the Elevated Bloodline, here comes the Tribal Chief’s music!”

Roman Reigns’ iconic theme hits, and the crowd roars. The camera pans to the stage as Jimmy Uso and Rhea Ripley step out first. Rhea, dressed in her black leather jacket and her Mixed Tag Team Championship belt around her waist, looks intense as ever. Jimmy walks beside her, his expression focused, his belt on his waist as well.

Pat McAfee: “Cole, look at them—walking like they own the entire damn arena!”

Michael Cole: “This is the most unified we’ve ever seen Rhea, Jimmy, and Roman. They’ve had enough of the Old Bloodline, and tonight they’re here to put an end to it!”

Jimmy and Rhea pause at the top of the ramp, turning back toward the entrance. The crowd’s volume spikes as Roman steps out, his stoic face radiating dominance. The trio stands together, soaking in the energy before beginning their slow, deliberate walk to the ring.

Pat McAfee: “This is a sight to behold, Cole. You’ve got Jimmy Uso, the technical high flyer, Rhea Ripley, the Eradicator, and Roman Reigns, the Original Tribal Chief himself. What a power trio!”

In the ring, Tiffany Stratton paces back and forth, grinning with malicious excitement. Solo Sikoa, Jacob Fatu, Tama Tonga, and Tonga Loa stand behind the ropes, their eyes locked on the Elevated Bloodline.

Michael Cole: “Tiffany Stratton is chomping at the bit to finally get her hands on Rhea Ripley, but let’s not forget the Old Bloodline standing behind her. This is as stacked as it gets!”

The Elevated Bloodline reaches ringside. Jimmy climbs onto the apron and holds the ropes open for Rhea. She steps into the ring, her eyes never leaving Tiffany. Roman finally enters, taking his time as the crowd showers them with a mix of cheers and boos. The energy is electric.

Lilian Garcia stands in the center, microphone in hand, ready to announce the competitors. But just as she begins, the crowd buzzes with confusion as a familiar voice cuts through the arena.

Paul Heyman: “Ladies and gentlemen!”

Michael Cole: “Wait a minute! That’s Paul Heyman! Roman Reigns’ Wiseman!”

Pat McAfee: “What the hell is Paul doing out here? This just got even more interesting!”

The camera pans to the stage where Paul Heyman walks out, holding a microphone and wearing his signature smug grin.

Paul Heyman: “Lilian, sweetheart, I’m sorry to interrupt your wonderful introductions, but this match—3-on-5? Now that doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”

The crowd erupts in cheers, sensing something big is about to happen.

Paul Heyman: “Rhea, darling, you thought you didn’t have any more friends? You thought you were alone in this fight? Oh no, my dear… you still have allies. Gentlemen, would you do the honors?”

The arena goes dark for a moment before the familiar beat of Damian Priest’s music hits. The crowd explodes as Damian Priest, Dominik Mysterio, and the Women’s World Champion Liv Morgan step onto the stage.

Michael Cole: “What?! Are you kidding me?! Damian Priest, Dominik Mysterio, and Liv Morgan are here!”

Pat McAfee: “Cole, this is HUGE! Is this a reunion? An alliance? What’s going on?!”

Damian Priest strides down the ramp, shaking Paul Heyman’s hand as Dominik and Liv follow close behind. The Judgment Day trio enters the ring, tension thick in the air as they approach the Elevated Bloodline.

Damian steps forward, locking eyes with Roman Reigns. For a moment, the arena slightly becomes silent as the two leaders stare each other down. Then, Damian extends his hand. Roman looks at it, then slowly shakes it. The crowd goes wild.

Michael Cole: “An alliance has been formed! The Judgment Day and the Elevated Bloodline—this changes EVERYTHING!”

Dominik shakes hands with Jimmy, and Liv nods at Rhea with a smirk before sliding out of the ring. Damian and Dominik then turn to Rhea. For a split second, there’s hesitation, but then they step forward and hug her tightly.

Pat McAfee: “Cole, this is unreal! Rhea Ripley has reunited with the Judgment Day, and now they’re standing united with the Elevated Bloodline!”

The camera captures the image of Rhea, Jimmy, Roman, Damian, and Dominik standing tall in the ring, their alliance signaling a seismic shift in WWE. The Old Bloodline watches from across the ring, their confidence visibly shaken.

Michael Cole: “What was supposed to be a 3-on-5 mismatch has just become a battle of titans! The Elevated Bloodline and the Judgment Day are united, and this war just got a whole lot more interesting!”

Pat McAfee: “Cole, I’ve got goosebumps! Saturday Night’s Main Event just became a night no one will EVER forget!”

The tension in the air is palpable as the Saturday Night’s Main Event reaches its boiling point. The audience is on the edge of their seats, knowing that the conclusion of this match will shift the landscape of WWE forever. The match is a chaotic frenzy, with the Elevated Bloodline and the Old Bloodline locked in a brutal battle, and everything is on the line.

Michael Cole: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are nearing the end of what has been an all-out war! Bodies have been broken, and all competitors are giving everything they have left. Who will come out on top in this epic contest?”

Pat McAfee: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this, Cole. Every member of these factions is exhausted—this is madness!”

The match is at its breaking point. All competitors are either knocked out or desperately fighting with each other, trying to gain any shred of advantage. The action is relentless as each faction attempts to assert their dominance.

First, Dominik is taken out by Tama, leaving the Judgment Day stunned. Then, Tama falls after a brutal exchange with Roman. Jacob Fatu soon follows, knocked out cold by a superkick from Jimmy. The Elevated Bloodline’s numbers continue to dwindle as Roman succumbs to a devastating spear from Solo, leaving him out of the equation.

Next, Damian Priest is knocked out by a chairshot from Tonga Loa. Finally, Solo and Tonga are taken out by a combination of double super kicks from Rhea and Jimmy, but not with Jimmy getting pulled from Jacob and getting thrown into floor. Jacob brutally strikes Jimmy, leaving just Rhea and Tiffany standing in the ring.

Michael Cole: “This is it! It’s down to Tiffany and Rhea—these two women are about to decide the fate of their respective factions!”

Pat McAfee: “They’ve been through hell tonight, Cole! And they are still standing!”

The crowd roars as Rhea Ripley and Tiffany Stratton exchange fierce blows, each one desperate for the win. The intensity is unbearable as the two women battle it out in the center of the ring. Suddenly, in the heat of the scuffle, the referee is inadvertently knocked out, collapsing to the mat.

Michael Cole: “The referee is down! This could be disastrous for both women!”

Rhea unaware that ref has been knocked out, gets her second wind. She hits Tiffany with the Riptide, delivering the crushing blow that could end the match. The crowd erupts in excitement, anticipating a clean pinfall victory.

But as Rhea moves to pin Tiffany, the crowd gasps—another referee runs down the ramp, ready to take over. The new official slides into the ring, and the count begins. One… two… and then, suddenly, the referee halts the count at the two-count.

Michael Cole: “What in the world? The count stopped! Why did the referee stop the count?”

The crowd falls silent, the tension thick in the air. The unknown referee pulls down their mask, revealing a familiar face—Jey. The shock waves ripple through the arena as Rhea’s eyes widen in disbelief.

Pat McAfee: “Jey Uso?! What is he doing here?!”

Rhea, frozen in shock, stares at Jey, trying to process what just happened. Jey, without a single emotion on his face, signals the end of the match, declaring it a disqualification. Rhea’s heart sinks as she watches him get out of the ring and begin walking up the ramp, leaving her standing in the ring in complete shock.

Michael Cole: “Jey Uso just called for a disqualification! What is going on here? This match has been completely thrown into chaos!”

Pat McAfee: “This is madness, Cole! Jey’s actions have left us all questioning everything!”

Jimmy rushes to Rhea’s side, concern written all over his face. He looks on at his brother as he walks up the ramp, Jey sports this unusual stoic expression. Rhea stands in the center of the ring, visibly shaken, tears streaming down her face. She can’t fathom what just happened.

As Rhea is left stunned, Dominik, Damian, Roman, and Liv all make their way to the ring, having been recovered from each devastatingly blow, except for Liv of course, joining Rhea in a show of unity. The Judgment Day and Elevated Bloodline stand together, still unsure of what to make of Jey’s involvement.

Michael Cole: “Jey Uso’s actions have left everyone here in a state of confusion. What does this mean for Rhea, for Jimmy, for Roman, for the factions?”

Pat McAfee: “There are more questions than answers, Cole. But what we do know is that this match is over, and nothing was resolved.”

Michael Cole: “And now, Tiffany Stratton, still reeling from the Riptide, is being pulled away by the Old Bloodline. And look at this—there’s a tense stare down between the Old Bloodline, the Elevated Bloodline, and the Judgment Day! These factions are on the verge of an all-out war!”

Pat McAfee: “The tensions couldn’t be higher, Cole! The future of WWE could be shaped by what happens here tonight, and I don’t think anyone knows how this is going to play out!”

With the Old Bloodline escorting Tiffany Stratton up the ramp, they lock eyes with the Elevated Bloodline and Judgment Day. The stare down is cold and intense, signaling that the animosity between these factions is far from over.

Michael Cole: “The match may be over, but this war is far from finished. I have no idea where things go from here, Pat.”

As the camera lingers on Rhea’s broken, emotional face, it’s clear that the battle is not over. The unresolved tension and the uncertainty surrounding Jey’s actions are only the beginning of a much larger storm that’s about to unfold.

Pat McAfee: “You said it, Cole. We are just getting started, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next!”

The scene fades to black, the uncertainty hanging in the air, leaving the audience eagerly awaiting what comes next in this explosive rivalry.

—

Rhea stormed into the locker room, her emotions barely in check. Jimmy and Roman followed close behind, their own frustration evident. But the sight of Hunter sitting calmly in the middle of the room ignited something in Rhea.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the silence, her breathing was uneven, her fists clenched and she looked like she about died of anger.

Hunter leaned back slightly, his expression calm but measured. “Rhea, I know you’re upset—”

“Upset?” she interrupted, her voice sharp and filled with venom. “He’s supposed to be on leave for another two months, Hunter! Two months! He had a shoulder injury!”

Hunter sighed, running a hand over his face. “Which he got cleared for by the doctors.”

“So, you just allowed him to come back?” Rhea snapped, her anger intensifying. “Without telling any of us? Without warning me?!”

“Rhea,” Hunter said firmly, “I’ve always said this was your storyline.”

She laughed bitterly, a hollow, mocking sound. “Really? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it! What it feels like is that you let my ex-boyfriend, who publicly humiliated me, come back just to fuck up everything we’ve built!”

Hunter opened his mouth to respond, but Rhea pressed on, her voice rising. “I’ve been fucking up Tiffany left and right for a whole month—building this feud, getting people invested—and tonight? Tonight was supposed to be the payoff! You said we were going to win!”

“I know what I said,” Hunter replied, his voice growing firmer, but Rhea wasn’t backing down.

“No, you don’t!” she shot back, her voice cracking slightly from the sheer intensity of her emotions. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have killed my momentum, or Jimmy’s, or Roman’s! You just handed everything over to Jey like it was some big fucking plot twist. Well, congrats, Hunter—you’ve turned my life into a goddamn soap opera!”

“You have to trust me on this,” Hunter said, his tone resolute, but his eyes betrayed a hint of guilt.

Roman, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “My character arc will not participate in this whole real-life drama, Hunter. I’m telling you that right now. You told me it was only going to be temporary and that’s it.”

Hunter looked at Roman, his expression hardening. “All of you are involved now. There’s no turning back.”

Rhea’s breathing quickened, her emotions spiraling as tears welled up in her eyes. She turned away, trying to compose herself, but the words spilled out anyway. “This is my life, Hunter,” she said, her voice trembling. “Jey cheated on me with Tiffany our whole relationship, and she—she gets pregnant and then has an abortion just so she can keep wrestling. And now you want me to continue to work with her? To work with him? Hunter, this is my fucking life.”

Hunter’s face softened for a moment, but his response was cold and detached. “Rhea… this really is just business.”

That was the breaking point. Rhea grabbed her bag without another word and stormed out of the locker room, slamming the door behind her.

Jimmy immediately moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in. Roman stopped him briefly. “Make sure she gets to the tour bus,” he said quietly, his tone firm.

Jimmy nodded, grabbing his own bag before quickly heading after Rhea.

Once they were alone, Roman turned back to Hunter, his imposing presence filling the room. He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he fixed Hunter with an icy stare. “Let’s talk,” Roman said, his voice low and dangerous. “Businessman to businessman.”

Hunter swallowed hard, sitting up straighter. He knew Roman wasn’t the type to mince words. Whatever was coming next would be a reckoning.

—

Rhea’s pace was frantic as she stormed toward the tour bus, her wrestling boots hitting the pavement with sharp, angry thuds. Jimmy followed closely behind, struggling to keep up with her long strides and the emotional whirlwind trailing in her wake.

She reached the bus, yanked the door open, and climbed in without hesitation, leaving the door open behind her. Jimmy arrived a few seconds later, slightly out of breath. He climbed in but froze in his tracks at the sight before him.

Rhea was on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. She didn’t even look up as he stepped inside.

“Rhea…” Jimmy said softly, his voice laced with concern. He closed the door gently behind him, shutting out the rest of the world.

Rhea’s voice was raw and broken when she finally spoke. “Why did he have to cheat on me?” she asked, her words tumbling out between sobs. “Why couldn’t he have just left me alone?”

Jimmy knelt down beside her, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. He reached out to hold her, but she pushed him away, her hand shoving at his chest with surprising force.

“I’m disgusted,” she spat, tears streaming down her face. “Disgusted that I even kissed you in the first place.”

Jimmy flinched at her words but kept his expression neutral, knowing she was lashing out in her pain. “You don’t mean that,” he said quietly.

Rhea looked at him, her eyes red and brimming with tears. “You all knew Jey cheated on me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of heartbreak and anger.

Jimmy stayed silent, his jaw tightening. He didn’t know how to respond, and the truth hung heavy between them.

Rhea broke down again, her cries filling the bus as she buried her face in her hands. Jimmy hesitated for a moment before trying again to reach out to her. This time, she didn’t push him away.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her against his chest as she cried. She didn’t resist, her sobs muffled against him. Jimmy rested his chin on the top of her head, his own eyes stinging with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “For everything.”

Rhea didn’t respond, but she clung to him, her tears soaking his shirt as her pain poured out in waves. Jimmy held her like that for what felt like an eternity, silently vowing to be there for her no matter how messy things got.

Jimmy carefully lifted Rhea off the floor, her weight light in his arms despite the emotional heaviness that seemed to cling to her. She didn't resist, letting herself be cradled as if the fight had drained completely out of her. He adjusted his grip and gently nudged the door to his room open with his foot, the faint creak barely audible over the low hum of the bus.

With Roman now accommodating three instead of two, the tour bus had been once again upgraded to something far more spacious, complete with three private rooms. Jimmy maneuvered through the slightly cramped hallway and stepped into his room, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over the neatly made bed.

He kicked the door shut behind him, the click of the latch grounding him in the moment. Gently, he laid her down on the bed, her body sinking into the plush comforter. He pulled back, intending to give her some space, but her hands shot up, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

It wasn't soft or tentative-it was desperate, raw, and filled with emotions she couldn't put into words. Jimmy melted into the kiss, the taste of her salty tears blending with the heat of her lips.

His hands cupped her face instinctively, thumbs brushing away the damp trails on her cheeks as the kiss deepened. He broke the kiss to speak but she spoke..

“Just make love to me..”

"Okay," he murmured, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

She pulled him closer, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as if she was afraid he'd change his mind. Jimmy didn't. He leaned down, pressing another kiss to her lips, this one slower and more deliberate, an unspoken promise that he would give her whatever she needed tonight.

He let himself fall into the moment, the world outside fading away as they found solace in each other, the shared pain and complicated feelings making the connection between them even more intense.

—

Roman approached the door to his tour bus, his thoughts still tangled from his tense conversation with Hunter. The weight of Hunter’s insistence on keeping this storyline alive lingered in his mind, a storm of conflicting emotions brewing beneath his composed exterior. Just as he reached for the handle, he heard a voice call out from behind him.

“Hey, Roman! Wait up!”

Roman turned to see Damian approaching, his long strides carrying him quickly across the lot. Roman sighed, glancing back at the bus, but turned to meet Damian halfway. “What’s up, man?” he asked, his tone neutral but laced with an edge of impatience.

Inside the bus, the sound of Damian yelling Roman’s name echoed faintly, causing Rhea and Jimmy to freeze mid-moment. They had been caught up in the heat of the moment, their earlier vulnerability boiling over into something neither had fully anticipated. Now, they scrambled to compose themselves, panic settling in.

“Shit,” Rhea muttered under her breath as she frantically pulled her shirt back on. “You’ve got my lipstick on your face!”

Jimmy, who was hastily pulling on his sweats, wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “Do you have one of those makeup things? A wipe or something?”

“No,” Rhea said, grabbing her jacket and glancing at him with a mixture of frustration and panic. “Just go shower or something!”

Jimmy nodded, his movements hurried but not frantic as he slipped out of the room and headed for the bathroom. The sound of the shower starting up soon followed, masking any further noise.

Rhea adjusted her shirt, gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror, and then slipped out of the room, heading for her own. She moved quietly but quickly, her heart racing as she prayed Roman wouldn’t step in and sense something was off.

Back outside, Roman was still talking to Damian, his broad frame leaning slightly against the side of the bus as Damian explained some issue or another. He nodded along, his eyes flicking back to the door, his gut telling him something was amiss even as he tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

“So, you see,” Damian continue his voice steady but with a hint of concern, “Hunter did say we were working together next week, and we were just wondering if we could stay with you guys this week?”

Roman raised an eyebrow, considering the request. The whole situation had been chaotic, but Damian wasn’t asking for much, and Roman knew how important this downtime was before the craziness of the upcoming week.

“That’s cool,” Roman said, nodding. “My new bus has two bunks in the front, plus the couches if you’re cool with that.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Damian said, his tone relieved.

Roman paused before continuing, his eyes scanning the lot as if he could sense something before speaking. “I’m sure Rhea would love to have you two back. I don’t know how she feels about Liv, though.”

Damian’s expression faltered for a moment. He had expected this. He wasn’t sure how Liv would go over, especially given Rhea’s recent turmoil.

“Would you want me to have Liv talk to Rhea before we get on board?” Damian offered cautiously. “We want to respect your tour bus.”

Roman gave a slight shrug. “That’s fine. Let me get her, and you can bring Liv to talk it over with Rhea.”

Damian nodded in understanding. Roman gave him a brief nod before heading toward the bus, his mind already working through the conversation that was about to happen.

Inside, Roman approached Rhea’s room, the soft knock on the door seeming louder in the quiet of the bus. She opened the door quickly, her face betraying a hint of nervousness.

“You okay?” Roman asked, his voice soft but direct.

Rhea, standing in the doorway, gave him a quick, almost anxious glance. “Yeah, why?” she asked, her words laced with tension.

Roman stepped in a little, wanting to keep things casual but making sure to check in on her. “Well, I said it’s okay for Dominik and Damian to board with us for the week,” he began, his eyes watching her carefully, “but I wanted to make sure you were okay with the other person.”

Rhea’s gaze shifted past him toward the windows, where she saw Liv standing with Damian and Dominik. The sight of her triggered a flurry of emotions inside Rhea, but she tried to stay composed. She thought for a moment, then responded, “Just tell her to come and give us some privacy.”

Roman gave a reassuring nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

With that, Roman stepped back outside to tell Damian and Liv what Rhea had decided. He knew things had been difficult for Rhea lately, and this week wasn’t going to be any easier, but he hoped this would give her the space she needed to sort through everything.

As he went outside, he caught Damian’s eye and gestured for Liv to follow him. Damian nodded, understanding the need for a brief talk. Liv gave a tight smile but followed without argument, knowing this was about Rhea’s comfort.

As Rhea and Liv sat together on the couch, the weight of the tension between them seemed to lessen with each passing second. Liv’s voice was soft but sincere as she began.

“I just want to say… I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” Liv confessed, glancing over at Rhea with a hint of regret.

Rhea smiled faintly, her eyes tired but appreciative. “Water under the bridge,” she replied, the words carrying a quiet finality to them.

Liv took a deep breath, clearly wanting to say more. “No… for real…” she started, her eyes lowering for a moment before looking back at Rhea. “I really admired you in The Judgment Day. I didn’t want to take your place.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, surprised by the admission. “Liv, seriously… water under the bridge,” she assured her, though there was a trace of humor in her voice, as if she’d heard enough of this kind of apology for a lifetime.

Liv smiled softly, but a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Is it true?”

Rhea looked at her in confusion. “Is what true?” she asked, her gaze shifting to Liv, sensing the question was something deeper.

Liv hesitated for a moment before leaning in further. “That Jey really did cheat on you the whole time?”

Rhea paused. The room seemed to grow quieter as the question lingered between them. She let out a breath, nodding slowly, her voice tinged with exhaustion. “Yes,” she said simply, her eyes avoiding Liv’s as she said the words, the weight of the truth still a heavy burden.

The two women sat there in silence, absorbing the weight of the revelation. It was as though the room had suddenly become still, each lost in their own thoughts.

Then, as if to break the tension, Rhea spoke up again, her voice quieter now. “I kissed Jimmy,” she admitted, not realizing that Jimmy was now out of the shower and listening in.

Liv’s eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows raised. “As a girlfriend, how was it?” she asked, her tone playful, despite the heaviness of the topic.

Rhea let out a small laugh, clearly caught off guard by the question. “To be honest, Liv… I think I made a mistake when I got with Jey.”

Liv gave her a teasing grin. “So does he have a big—” She made a popping sound with her lips, her attempt at humor cutting through the tension.

Rhea burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. It had been so long since she’d laughed like that, and she needed it more than she realized. “We haven’t done anything yet,” she said between laughs, shaking her head at the absurdity of the conversation.

Liv’s grin only grew wider. “Really?” she asked, as if incredulous.

Rhea shrugged, her eyes twinkling with a playful spark. “Well, he does know how to eat…” she said, her words trailing off with a sly smile.

Liv let out a dramatic gasp, her hands going to her chest. “Rhea, you sly dog!” she teased, and both of them erupted into giggles.

Jimmy couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t the conversation itself that made him grin, but the sound of Rhea laughing. The tension had lifted from her shoulders, even if just for a moment. She had always seemed so closed off, so guarded, especially around Jey. He knew Jey had a way of sheltering Rhea, keeping her from opening up to others. Maybe, just maybe, she needed more friends than she realized.

The laughter continued for a few more moments before both women calmed down, still sharing a knowing smile. Rhea wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst all the chaos.

—

As the bus rumbled down the highway toward Phoenix, Arizona, the lights inside dimmed, and the soft hum of the engine mixed with the rhythmic sounds of sleeping bodies. Roman had already passed out blankets and pillows, ensuring everyone was comfortable for the journey ahead. One by one, the members of the group succumbed to sleep, the bus growing quieter with each passing moment.

But Rhea, restless and unable to sleep, glanced at the time. 2:13 AM blinked back at her, a reminder that the night was still young, and her mind wouldn’t quiet. She had freshly showered earlier, the lingering scent of shampoo still in her hair, and the cool air from the vent made her shiver slightly. She sighed, staring at the ceiling for a moment, before deciding she needed a moment away from the stillness.

She slipped out of the bed as quietly as possible, her feet padding softly against the floor. She glanced toward the living room and heard the faint snores of the Judgement Day—everyone lost in their own dreams. Rhea’s heart pounded just a little faster as she approached Jimmy’s room. She opened the door cautiously, trying not to disturb him. The dim light from the hallway illuminated his peaceful form, his breathing steady as he slept.

Rhea stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room smelled faintly of the shared cologne that lingered in the air, and she felt herself drawn to the warmth of the bed. She climbed in quietly, careful not to wake him, but as she shifted, Jimmy stirred. He turned to her, his eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from the sleep he was pulled from.

“Hey,” Rhea replied, her tone soft but filled with an undercurrent of exhaustion. She could feel the weight of the day still on her shoulders, the emotions from earlier in the evening threatening to resurface.

Before she could say anything else, Jimmy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his warmth. She melted into his embrace, the comfort of his closeness soothing the tension in her chest. Their lips met in a kiss, gentle at first, as if testing the waters. It was a kiss that held the weight of everything unspoken between them—the turmoil, the laughter, the exhaustion, and the unexpected connection that had formed between them.

As they pulled away slightly, Jimmy’s eyes met hers, still tired but filled with understanding. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice low and concerned.

Rhea nodded, resting her forehead against his. “Yeah,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut as she allowed herself to sink deeper into his embrace. “Just needed this.”

Jimmy nodded, holding her tighter. The world outside the tour bus faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them—away from the chaos, away from everything that had been weighing on her.

“Get some sleep,” he said, his voice soft, and soon after, she felt herself drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling her into the comfort of his arms.

But she didn’t want to go to sleep..

“Make love to me,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him once more. Jimmy kissed her back, his lips soft against hers as his tongue snuck out to taste her lips. Rhea sighed, her hands traveling down to his chest as he pulled her by her hips so she can straddle his hips.

Her soft breath against his lips, her hand running through his hair-it made something possessive inside him stir, an overwhelming need to claim her as his and his alone. She'd been through so much, and no one had protected her the way he could. He wouldn't let anyone get close enough to hurt her again.

Rhea couldn’t keep quiet for long, not when Jimmy was touching her like this. She started to moan softly as he kissed her neck, her hands clenching in his hair as he sucked on her skin. Rhea had to cover her mouth to keep quiet, her body shaking as Jimmy’s hands slid up her sides.

“Demi..” Jon moaned as he felt Rhea’s heat from her most delicate area.

He felt her need for comfort, her hurt, and every ounce of it tightened something deep in him. She wasn't just a woman who had been betrayed-she was his woman, and anyone who even thought about crossing that line would have to go through him first. Jimmy wasn't about to share her with anyone-not Jey, not anyone in her past. She wasn't just some rebound, some distraction-she was his.

Jimmy tugged Rhea’s shirt up over her head, exposing her bare breasts in the dark. He sucked on her nipples, his hands traveling down to her shorts as he tugged them down her legs. Rhea kicked them off before she climbed back onto Jimmy’s lap, her hips grinding against his as she felt his dick harden beneath her.

As their lips met once more, he sure as hell didn't pull away. He deepened the kiss, claiming it, claiming her. The way her body responded, the way she let him in, it sent something dark and possessive through him. She wasn't running anymore; she wasn't hiding.

Rhea moaned into his mouth as she felt his hands sliding up her sides, his fingers brushing against her breasts as she leaned into his touch.

She was letting him in, and that meant everything.

She needed him, and that made her his responsibility-his to protect, his to comfort, his to own.

He let his mind run wild with the thought of how easy it would be to keep her right here, to never let her go. She was the only one who could make him feel this way-like everything in his life could be shut out, just to keep her safe, just to make her his in every sense of the word. And he'd do whatever it took to make sure she stayed that way.

Jimmy broke the kiss as he leaned down to suck on Rhea’s neck, his hands sliding down to her hips. Rhea moaned softly as she felt his fingers brushing against her pussy, her body trembling as he slid a finger inside of her.

Jimmy had never been one for subtlety when it came to what he wanted. He wanted Rhea. And not just in the way that others might. He wanted to be the only one who knew her deepest parts, the only one who could make her smile like that, the only one who could pull her out of her darkness and give her a reason to stay. She was his. And anyone who thought otherwise would have to answer to him.

Rhea had to keep quiet as Jimmy started to finger her, her body shaking as she felt his fingers sliding in and out of her. She leaned down to kiss him, her hands sliding into his hair as she whispered in his ear.

“Please…”

What if he's just like Jey? The thought hit Rhea harder than she expected. Jey had shattered her trust in ways she never thought possible. He had made her feel like she wasn't enough, like she was disposable, all while lying to her face. She'd given him everything-her love, her loyalty, her time-and he'd repaid her by sneaking behind her back, with Tiffany of all people. The betrayal still stung, even now. The idea of going through that kind of heartbreak again made her chest tighten.

Jimmy noticed her shift, he slowly pulled his fingers out of her and reached over to turn on the small light by the bed. “You okay?” He asked, concern in his voice.

She put her head down in his chest and he used both hands to lift up her head.

“Talk to me..”

Rhea’s gaze softened as she searched Jimmy’s face for any hint of deception, any trace of the lies she had endured with Jey. Her voice trembled as she repeated, “I don’t want you to be like him.”

Jimmy sat up slightly, his hands adjusting and his arms wrapping and tightening around her as if to ground her in the moment. His tone was firm, but his eyes betrayed his vulnerability. “I’m nothing like him,” he said, his words carrying weight.

Rhea tilted her head, her fingers lightly reaching to touch the tattoo on his left pec, her doubt still gnawing at her. “You say that now,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But Jey said all the right—“

“Demi… let me do what you needed me to do..” He pleaded. He kissed her once more but Rhea’s doubts never left.

What if I'm just repeating my mistakes? Jimmy was Jey's brother, after all. Bloodline or not, could she trust that he wouldn't do the same? That he wouldn't take advantage of her vulnerability? She hated feeling this way, doubting someone who had been nothing but kind and patient with her. But the scars Jey left were deep, and every time she started to feel herself letting her guard down, those old fears came rushing back.

Her thoughts were broken away as she felt his fingers back inside of her, she moaned softly as they went in and out. The pleasure Rhea was experience was something she hadn’t felt in such a long time, the pleasure of feeling wanted.

“Fu… fuck.. Jon..” Her head fell into the crevice of his neck.

“Fuck me, Jon,” she begged as she felt his fingers sliding out of her. Jimmy kissed her as he flipped her onto her back, his body covering hers as he slid inside of her, very quickly.

Rhea moaned softly as she felt Jimmy filling her up, her legs wrapping around his hips as she held him close. Jimmy started to thrust into her, his hips slamming into hers as she gasped for breath.

“Demi..fuck..”

“Don’t ever stop please..”

“You are fucking tight..”

He's different, a small voice in her head argued.

And maybe he was. Jimmy had shown her a side of himself that felt real, raw, and unfiltered. He didn't shelter her the way Jey had, didn't try to control her. Instead, he encouraged her to be herself, to let herself feel. He didn't demand anything from her-he just gave. But wasn't that how it always started? Sweet words, tender touches, and promises that eventually fell apart?

She knew she wasn't easy to love. She came with baggage-her temper, her insecurities, the walls she'd built so high to keep herself from getting hurt again. Jimmy didn't deserve to carry that weight, did he? Maybe this was unfair to him.

Maybe she was pushing him into a role he didn't even want.

But as Rhea had to cover her mouth to keep quiet as Jimmy thrusted into her, her body shaking as he hit that spot inside of her that made her see stars and see clarity. Jimmy wanted this role. She couldn’t keep quiet for long, not when Jimmy was thrusting into her like this. He removed her hand from her mouth and said, “Need to hear you..” Rhea nodded and she started to moan softly as he thrusted into her even more harder, her hips meeting his as she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge

She thought about the way he looked at her in the most delicate way, his eyes filled with something she could only describe as devotion. The way he didn't just listen to her, but actually heard her. He didn't treat her like a trophy or a conquest. He treated her like a person—flaws, fears, and all.

She could feel her orgasm building, her breath now coming in soft pants. Jimmy thrusted into her as hard as he could now, his hips moving against Rhea's, the bed now slightly squeaking to only where Jimmy and Rhea could hear.

He made her feel like more than just "Rhea Ripley," the tough-as-nails wrestler who didn't take shit from anyone. He made her feel like Demi-vulnerable, messy, but somehow still enough.

“Fuck I’m almost..”

“You gonna cum for me?”

“I can’t…. I can’t… fuck..”

“Cum for daddy..”

Rhea’s moan came out in a choke, her pussy clenching around his cock as she felt her orgasm reaching its climax. Jimmy’s right hand moved to her clit, teasing it with his index finger as he continued to thrust into her. Rhea’s moans were silenced by Jimmy’s left hand, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, tears welled up in her eyes as she experienced the ultimate high.

“Demi..”

Jimmy came with a low groan, his seed filling Rhea’s pussy as she finished her orgasm. He collapsed on top of her, his breath hot and heavy against her neck. Rhea wrapped her arms around him, her fingers tracing patterns on his back as they caught their breath.

The gentle hum of the bus moving through the night became the only sound that filled the quiet space between them. Jimmy slowly pulled away from Rhea, his chest rising and falling with the weight of their shared intimacy. He shifted slightly, making sure to pull her close as he settled beside her again. Rhea, still trying to catch her breath, felt a calmness she hadn’t expected, yet the knot in her stomach remained. She couldn’t push the doubt aside completely, but she didn’t want to think about it now—not when she was here, with Jimmy, in this moment.

She turned her head to look at him, his warm, steady presence offering a sense of peace she had longed for, but hadn’t fully allowed herself to feel. He was quiet, letting the silence stretch, before he finally spoke, answering Rhea’s question.

“Does this change anything?” Rhea asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the uncertainty heavy in her words. She wasn’t sure why she asked, but the question felt like it needed to be said—like the air between them had suddenly thickened and she needed reassurance.

Jimmy paused for a moment, lifting his gaze to meet hers. His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just be in the moment,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “Here with me. That’s all that matters.”

Rhea nodded, the weight of his words sinking into her. She felt her body relax against him as he pulled her in closer, her head resting on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was soothing, almost rhythmic, and for the first time in a long while, Rhea allowed herself to simply breathe.

She closed her eyes, her mind racing but trying to quiet the noise. The warmth of Jimmy’s body, the strength of his arms wrapped around her—it felt real, grounding, in contrast to the chaos she’d felt earlier. But still, those lingering doubts clung to her thoughts, like shadows she couldn’t shake.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” she whispered to herself, though she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it.

Jimmy didn’t respond immediately, but she could feel the steadiness in him, his calmness washing over her like a tide. He wasn’t asking for anything—just this moment, just her. And that, in itself, was something Rhea wasn’t used to.

Before she knew it, the exhaustion from the day’s emotions caught up to her, and her body relaxed, her eyelids growing heavy. Her thoughts began to drift, but the last thing she felt before succumbing to sleep was the warmth of Jimmy’s hand gently resting on her back.

As she let herself slip into slumber, the doubts still lingered at the edge of her mind, but they felt distant for now. Maybe tomorrow would bring clarity, or maybe it would only bring more questions. But for tonight, Rhea allowed herself to rest, to be in the moment with Jimmy, just as he had asked.

& with this chapter I am currently on my break. I will return in the new year 😭🩷

#jey uso #fanfiction #wwe #rhea ripley #fanfic #rhea and jey #wwe raw #the judgement day #wwe smackdown #yeet #rhea ripley and jey uso #rhea x jey #jimmy x rhea #rhea and jimmy #rhea ripley fanfic #rhea x jimmy #jimmy uso fanfiction #main event jey uso #jey uso fanfiction

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darsynia · 1 year ago

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Shipping and Handling | Ch 3: Gravity

(Stucky x Reader slow burn, Steve x Reader fast burn, Friendship all around)

SERIES MASTERLIST | STORY MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: There’s a chance you and Steve aren’t the only people dealing with the strange chemical bond from Mistress, so you agree to submit to daily tests that should help Dr. Banner figure out what’s happening, and maybe how to stop it. The problem? Seeing each other every day brings a new set of side-effects that both of you hide from each other and Banner until things come to a head– not just for the two of you, but also for the man who has to deal with you: Bucky Barnes. Length/Warnings: 4,631 / sexual situations, 'dere's some TOUCHING

Tags: (please request!) @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreblogsfics @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee @eralen @mrsevans90 @myinconnelly1 @thorinsmistress13 @cjand10 @wckedheart @samfreakingwinchester @blind-devil @sanniegirl1214 @karimac @dispatchvampire @beautifulchaos723 @weirdpeoplecoolpeople

Excerpt:

I could get out of here so quick it’d make the ‘weird news’ section, Bucky thinks to himself. He’s seated on the concrete up against the wall, knees up, glowering at the rest of the men in the same containment cell. The tight pressure of his pants is punishing against his erection, but the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Hey Colada, you gonna kill me with your eyes?” one of the gym rat assholes calls out from across the room.

“Depends. Your head hurt yet?” he asks, not bothering to raise his voice.

“Fuck, you ain’t kidding, man is scary as shit!” The man shoves his companion and turns his back, unintentionally showing off the greasy blonde mullet he’s sporting.

Not for the first time, Bucky thanks the combination of circumstances that’s kept him from needing a mindless fuck. The desperate want has been gnawing away at his insides for over an hour, but it’s at least manageable so far. His clothes reek of coconut, and the part of him that remembers going undercover in the past is cooked with laughter. His leather-clad punk rock piña colada smelling ass isn’t flying under any kind of radar, not even in a drunk tank full of genuine idiots.

Chapter Three: Gravity

Once inside the car (a limo, of all things), Steve guides you to the back into the curved corner seat before retreating as far away from you as he can get. He doesn’t have a fever, but his blood is on fire, both in desire and a strong need to protect you.

From himself, if necessary.

“Steve?”

Your objection to the distance between you is plaintive, but he looks down at his tightly clasped hands, not trusting himself until he can get his breathing under control. “We’ve got to get you to Bruce as soon as possible.”

“Oh yes, exactly the penetration I need: a needle in my arm!” you grumble. Steve can’t hold back his shocked reaction, which prompts you to wince and look away. After the driver eases the limo out into the heavy traffic, you add quietly, “How the heck did you resist this?”

“I didn’t.”

The tiny sound you let out on hearing that goes straight to his groin. Your next words help him regain his composure though.

“Steve, I’m scared. I don’t want to be a guinea pig for some kind of experimental treatment, but I don’t want to force you into anything either.” you whisper. “Maybe I could see if--”

“No.”

Steve barks out the word, caught in the grip of fierce possessiveness. His hands ache as he pours all his strength into keeping his fingers intertwined, instead of reaching out. The thought of someone else, someone not him…

“I didn’t even finish the sentence!”

He shakes his head, mind racing to find an explanation that doesn’t make him look like he is overstepping. “Secondary transfer is going strong. I pictured someone else touching you, and--” he breaks off, lifting his eyes to yours. Something you see in them has you unbuckling and coming over to rest your warm hand on his forehead. Muttering something about overheating, you start undoing the first few buttons of his dress shirt. “Dee,” Steve groans, unable to conceal the stress in his tone.

He catches your wrists as gently as possible, but that just reveals that the backs of his hands are lined with fingerprint bruises. You tut as the already-healing wounds catch your eye.

“It’s just like you to apologize for trying to keep your hands to yourself!” you say, but all other admonitions die on your lips as you watch the self-inflicted marks disappear. “That’s… that’s like magic,” you breathe. “Bruce really did pick the perfect person to try to figure this whole thing out. And then I had to go and screw things up!”

“Your being in the apartment was an accident, one I don’t blame you for.” He uses as firm a tone as he can, but your face crumples a little, sweat beading up along the furrows of your regretful expression.

“I shouldn’t have come over here. I only had about five minutes of coherent brain power left.” Your voice is barely a whisper, reaching your hand out and resting it gently over his heart.

“Spent most of that on reassuring me.”

You close your eyes tightly and nod, saying, “You deserve better than to deal with this whole ridiculous situation again.”

On hearing this, Steve makes a decision, reaching over to tap a message to the driver on the communication pad hidden on a panel nearby. Tony sometimes messes around with it when he ropes him into doing Avengers events, something Steve never thought he’d come to appreciate.

He rests his hand on yours and says, “When we met, I chose to trust you because Bucky trusts you. None of that has changed.” He pauses for a reaction, but you’ve got your teeth firmly embedded in your lip, your entire body tense with concern about what else he might say. He’d rather you didn’t have your eyes closed, but he remembers how hard it was to use logic and reason after being dosed with Mistress. “No matter what happens afterwards, Bruce has to know how direct exposure affects you, so I need to ask: do you trust me?”

You open your eyes to blink at him, and Steve notes how blown your pupils are. Knowing it’ll make things temporarily worse, but needing a response, he cups your face with his hand. Almost instinctively, you angle into him as you nod, showing both a conscious and unconscious sign of trust.

The limo pulls over to the curb and he lifts your hand from his chest to press a kiss onto the back of it. Bucky would probably complain he looks like some kind of knight errant. Shaking that thought off, Steve gets up and makes his way to the door, saying over his shoulder, “Try not to burn me in effigy till you get to the Tower, all right?”

The despairing tone you use to call out his name slices at his conscience, but there’s no time to do anything more than start running to the tower. Exertion should burn off some of the lust, at least. He hopes he can get through all the things he’s planning in the twenty minutes before the limo’s projected to get there.

Your body had screamed in relief when Steve touched your face, but seconds later, he’s gone. At first, you’re confused. The limo sits for a while at the curb like it’s waiting for Steve to come back-- but finally it eases back into traffic, to your utter disappointment. You know the lust that’s prompting you to clench your thighs together for friction could all too easily take over.

It’s incredibly difficult to try to focus, but you pour all your mental efforts into the task of trying to remember just what Steve said before he abandoned you. You push past the moments of pleasure that crowd your mind, seeking a touchstone, something to keep your sanity intact--

Bruce. Bruce will want to test you. That means there’s a purpose to this torture.

You throw yourself back so you’re lying prone on the warmed leather of the limo’s seat, bending your knees toward your chest. The cool air on your exposed skin is hardly a relief at all, but the pressure from the shaping garment you’re wearing is oddly welcome.

“Well, that’s a first,” you mutter aloud. The sound of your voice is low and rough, undeniably sexy, and you light on that as something you ought to mark down for Banner.

When the limo stops and turns off its engine countless minutes later, you’ve only managed to scrawl something barely-legible about that observation onto a scrap of paper. It kept you busy, focusing your thoughts away from the heat licking through your body, and that’s what counts.

The door opens, and somehow, Steve leans in. “Time to fly to another perch, Chickadee,” he says gently, holding out his hand.

“How--” you breathe, moving toward him. Only now does it occur to you that you’re basically a million desires held loosely together by the wax of willpower alone. You don’t want to make Steve deal with that-- but those concerns melt away as you step out onto the sidewalk in front of the building and collapse against him in relief. Steve sweeps you up into his arms, dipping his head to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is intense after your solo minutes in the limo miserably conflagrating. You clutch at him, loving the safety of his strong arms bearing you up. All that exists in the whole world is Steve, a good man, a trustworthy man, someone who knows exactly what you need. You bury your fingers in his hair to encourage him, eagerly anticipating the moment when he’ll lay you down and take you, the only thing that will heal the wounds caused by Mistress.

Except, for the second time in a half hour, that’s not what happens.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, apologizing right away when the bright light from the exam room he’s carried you into makes you recoil against his neck in surprise.

A cool, unwelcome hand catches your upper arm, turning you away from Steve just as he adjusts his grip to bring you to a stand.

“Just a little pinch!” a woman’s voice says. It’s not Dr. Lyonne, and Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Behind you, you can hear Steve’s unhappy voice demanding… something, but there’s a ringing in your ears, and everything goes wavy and indistinct after that.

You experience only flashes of the next minutes-- the solid chair under you as your blood is taken, the insistent voice asking questions about the evening, icewater through a straw held to your lips, but mostly you’re focused on keeping from reaching out and begging everyone around you to end the torment burning through your veins. Through the pervasive lust you’re wracked with, a single horrid thought keeps emerging.

Is this what Steve felt like that day?

It becomes louder than anything else, until you reach up and cover your ears with both hands, closing your eyes so tightly that the pressure flashes like fireworks.

“Dee?”

On any other day, Steve might touch your shoulder to get your attention, but he knows that you don’t have your eyes cinched shut and your arms crossed and your body tensed up for nothing. The desire simmering in his own veins is bad enough without more contact scrambling his senses. So, he stops your wheelchair in front of the elevator doors without hitting the button, and walks around so the sound of his voice will come from in front of you.

“I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through, because this stuff hits everyone differently. I’m just going to give you some options.”

You do a curt little head nod, pressing your lips together tightly.

“Option one is to head to a room to take care of things yourself, however long that might take. We’ve got an empty, furnished apartment set up if that’s your choice, with, ah,” his words fail him, but Steve pushes through. “--supplies.”

You make a choked noise in the back of your throat, and he rushes on to the next suggestion.

“Option two is to let you into our apartment, since you might feel safer there. Buck and I will use the other place in the meantime, till we get an all clear from you.” Bruce had suggested this, and Steve was doing his best not to picture it.

“Alone?” you whisper, sounding miserable.

Steve crouches down in front of the wheelchair, his heart clenched into as much of a fist as the hand he’s gripping the armrest with. His high-minded resolutions not to influence you have been shredded by the look on your face.

“Not alone, not if you don’t want to be. The third option is for me to stand by what I promised in the restaurant. To finish what we started, out in the car.”

Your breathing had been quick and distressed since he’d wheeled you out of Bruce’s lab, and as he watches, you struggle with your words, pulling in a breath only to let it out in furrowed-brow frustration twice. Finally, you let out a huff of a laugh and let your hands drop like you’ve given up trying to be diplomatic.

“Are we coworkers, thanks to all this? Do we need to get lawyers involved?”

“Oh, I’m sure Tony would love to get lawyers involved,” Steve groaned, “--but this is just between us. No surveillance and no pressure. The limo is parked in a private garage, it has tinted windows, and Stark’s AI guards all access. It’s the safest place I could think of without a chance of being interrupted or--”

“Yes.” Along with the fervent assent, you throw your head back, your whole body going through a kind of delighted shudder of relief that has Steve standing and walking a short distance away so he doesn’t do anything rash.

After a few deep breaths, he says, “I’m going to wheel you into the elevator, but if I’m honest, I’m not sure you’re in any condition to agree to this.”

“At least as much as you did, the day we met!” Your laugh sounds manic, but when Steve turns around, he catches you letting out a deep breath, your hands in fists on your lap. “If--” your voice falters, but you clear your throat and continue. “If you really think that, I can’t do this to you. I’ll… go up to the apartment.”

His own disappointment at that option slices through his inhibitions, and Steve hastens to refute the necessity of your offer. “Don’t do that to yourself. You won’t be able to fix this without me.”

“I know. But you should have the choice.”

He hits the elevator button and the doors open right away, offering a distraction from responding as he wheels you in-- but Steve Rogers isn’t much for avoiding tough things.

He ignores the part of his brain that points out that this isn’t tough at all.

“I do have the choice. Bruce said, and I quote, ‘I’ve never seen you walk away from someone in distress, and I don’t expect you to start now.’ He’s right.”

Steve forces himself to count to twenty as the elevator takes the two of you to the sub basement, but his veneer of control is shattered when the doors open and he looks down at you. You’ve leaned your head back to look up at him, desire etched across your features-- but equally present is an expression of utter trust.

It’s as much of an intoxicant to him as Mistress.

He walks around to block the door of the elevator, turning to hold a hand out for you. No way is he going to wheel you to the limo for what’s about to follow. Your immediate, confident grasp does a lot to assuage his concerns. The way you stumble into him right afterwards is just a symptom of the malady he knows just how to fix.

The empty wheelchair in the elevator will do nicely as an indicator to whom it may concern.

“God, I want you so much right now I’m basically a lit flame,” you whimper, twisting free of him and skip-stumbling over to the limo. Before he can stop you, you’ve opened the door and posed beside it in a wicked little gesture of sultry chivalry.

Multiple realizations hit Steve as he walks over.

He wants you, but he’s coming to realize he also wants you. As a person. You’re smart and compassionate, talented as all hell and beautiful inside and out. Steve’s never seen you act starstruck, yet you clearly respect Captain America as a facet of his personality. You’re joking about gallantry, but not to mock him. This… this is joyful, and he’d be willing to bet that if Bruce got ahold of a blood sample right now, he’d find that the minutes you’ve spent together have stabilized your desperate lust as much as his has been inflamed.

When he gets to the limo, you press yourself as close as you can, sliding your palms along his shoulders and his upper arms as you pull in a deep, steadying breath at his chest. A little whimper-sigh escapes your lips, reminding him of the urgency you’re caught up in, the need he’s forced you to delay satisfying for the greater good. Your whole body is trembling.

“I’ve got you,” Steve rasps into your ear-- and as if you’d both practiced the move, you hold onto his shoulders right as he lifts you up, your legs moving to bracket themselves around him. He bands a hand across your back to pull you into a desperate kiss, and the next coherent thought he has is to marvel that the inside of the limo has enough space for him to stretch out lengthways.

Everything is moving fast, and though he knows your body is willing, he needs to be sure your mind is on board. Even as he thinks this, you’ve already removed your top and are working on the rest of your clothes. The beauty of the lines of your body as you angle and arch sends his hips thrusting up against you.

Your hitched moan in response is almost enough for his compromised sense of what’s right, but not quite.

Steve catches your hands at your back as you struggle with your bra clasp. “Are you still in there? Can you consent?”

“They should do a study on how much your moral code makes me need you inside me,” you pant, rolling off of him to strip off everything from your lower half in record time. “That’s just wrong.”

He can’t resist.

“Are you saying you’re in distress, ma’am?” he asks as he rushes off his own clothes. Something rips, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

You arch your back and throw your arm dramatically over your eyes. “Save me, Steve Rogers!”

He does.

Thoroughly.

“Hey Colada, you gonna kill me with your eyes?” one of the gym rat assholes calls out from across the room.

“Depends. Your head hurt yet?” he asks, not bothering to raise his voice.

“Fuck, you ain’t kidding, man is scary as shit!” The man shoves his companion and turns his back, unintentionally showing off the greasy blonde mullet he’s sporting.

His stomach lurches. The dousing of Mistress he’d gotten was more than the amount that fucker had splashed on Dee, but it was worth the exposure to knock the guy out. You’re probably going to be pissed at him, even though he’d used his flesh hand just for your sake.

Bucky allows himself a smile meant to unnerve the men watching him, but internally, he’s scrambling. Thinking about you had been a mistake, maybe a big one. He’d enjoyed your performance that night; you’d added subtle physical and vocal flourishes that showed your skill to captivate an audience, himself included. When he closes his eyes, he can see the sway of your hips, both as you sang and while you danced with Steve.

A surge of desire courses through him, and he has to rock his hips to stifle the effects with the seam of his trousers. The pain-pressure doesn’t help this time. The damned aphrodisiac is finally winning.

New subject. Now.

The sharp sound of a police baton knocking against metal bars rings out. “Barnes?”

Bucky lifts his head and sees two figures near the door to the large cell. Beside the policeman is a squirrely-looking lawyer type with a terrible toupee and obviously fake, non-matching facial hair. The man’s suit is oversized, enough to trigger a visual scan for weapons.

He gets up in one fluid motion, leaning his head down so his hair covers most of his face and deliberately hulks toward the door. Everyone between Bucky and the bars scurry out of the way, but he’s focused on the lawyer’s clear inconsistencies.

Thick-cut, ill fitting glasses Inability to stand still No eye contact Very high quality shoes

He chooses to lift his arms wide to grab the bars and lean forward, a dominant stance even in this caged madhouse.

“That ‘sposed to scare me?” the lawyer says-- and Bucky starts to cough instead of laughing. The lawyer is Tony Stark. He’s using an exaggerated New York voice, the kind you find on kids cartoons, but it’s him.

Bucky decides that ‘undercover’ for him right now is ‘over-cover.’ Drunk, horny, and indiscriminate.

“Do you like being scared?” He makes sure to slur his words just enough.

The policeman makes a terrible face and backs up. “Jesus how many did you drink?”

“I got a collection of umbrellas in my pants. Want one?” Bucky offers, reaching for his zipper.

“You can make me a bouquet of them in the car, buddy. Just keep those hands to yourself!” ‘sleazy lawyer Tony’ pronounces.

The officer’s eyes climb skyward. “I can keep ‘im in here for as long as you--”

“Sure, if you’ve got condoms.” Bucky smiles.

He’s never seen anyone unlock a cage so fast, not even when he was crushing someone’s windpipe as an inducement to hurry.

That thought’s enough to make him stumble through the now-open cell door. It’s funny how convenient inconvenient flashes of memory can be.

“C’mon Casanova, let’s get you into detox,” Stark drawls, adjusting his enormous fake glasses.

A shout of “It’s Colada!” follows them out of the hallway.

“Do I wanna know?” Stark leans over to ask, giving Bucky a strong whiff of the alcohol on his breath.

“I’m as sauced with that sex drug as you are with--”

“All right, all right,” his ‘lawyer’ interrupts loudly, shoving Bucky past the policeman guarding the door. Stark’s holding up an ID that could probably get him into the Pentagon, but for all that he appears sloppy, he’s remembered to bring the kind of ridiculous car his persona would drive. The two of them hop into the back seat and Stark rolls down the window to wave at the jailhouse. The momentum from his man Hogan stepping on the gas knocks the tipsy superhero on his ass and leaves his nasty toupee in Bucky’s lap.

He throws it out the window.

“That was rude!” Stark says, frowning.

“I don’t think your girl wants you to come home with any kind of Mistress.”

Stark wrinkles his nose as if finally recognizing the smell. “Right. Well, maybe don’t punch convicted felons and get on the scanner next time? That’s not the kind of heroism I was expecting from you, Colada.”

Fuck, that better not catch on. “Don’t.”

They’re pulling into the tower already, driving all the way down to Stark’s private garage. Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to stay inside until the car stops. The closer he gets to privacy and the ability to do something about the fire radiating from his groin, the more intense it burns.

Stark is busy looking affronted. “Hey, I’m the Stark itect of your escape out of jail, Barnes. You could say thank you.”

The car stops, and Bucky opens the door, saying as he gets out, “Thank you for keeping your bad puns until the end of the ride.”

There’s a limo parked near the elevator. It’s out of place, no driver visible, but the lights are on. It hadn’t occurred to him that Stark’s tower would have VIP guests. If he weren’t so fucking horny he’d investigate, but as it is, he can only rush past.

Bucky bursts into the apartment with almost no self control left. Inside, a part of him is screaming about loss of control, but he erases it with a hand on his cock. He’s standing in the fucking doorway with his pants at his ankles and he could not possibly care less. Everyone in the building should be grateful he shut the door at all.

He slams his head back against the wall behind him. The feeling of it giving way against his strength is as powerful as the liquid ecstasy coursing through his veins.

It’s been more than one lifetime since he’s felt the itch to be outrageous, but right now he almost wishes for Steve to walk in and see him, head practically buried in the wall, the rest of him on display. His body is bowed out in a taut arc centered on his cock, his movements electrified by the twice-damned aphrodisiac in his system. Bucky had kept his mind mercifully blank from picturing anything, but just as before he’s weakened the dam by thinking about Steve.

Steve had looked great in his suit, overdressed but classy, but that was Steve. He’d always been like that, even before he’d lucked into that body.

Fuck. Think about something else.

He’ll come in the doorway but he’ll be damned if he’ll come in the doorway thinking about his roommate. Society hasn’t ‘advanced’ that far.

Something ELSE, Buck.

His hand is gliding, the pleasure is unreal, and the entire slideshow in his head is Steve. Bucky dials back in time, even though he usually doesn’t invite the nightmares that can bestow unless he’s got a few days alone to deal with them. He skips past cone bras and miniskirts, bouffant hair and do-wop music, letting out a whine in the back of his throat as he’s almost, almost there, but not quite.

Just as he’s got the perfect image of a pin-up dame in his head with the right shade of lipstick, the thought that he might not get to come crashes in like a neon Times Square sign dropped by a helicopter.

Bucky’s eyes open wide and his hand stops, then drops to his side. He’s still a live wire of erotic voltage right now but the chance that might become a permanent state of being has him wrenching his head from the wall.

He thinks back. What had you told him about this, what had you done? Is this related? There's zero chance you won't feel responsible if it is.

His lust-addled mind mixes every thought he’s had in the past five minutes into a psy-op worthy of the absolute worst HYDRA’s ever managed: an image of you superimposed on that red-lipsticked siren of a minute ago. A jolt of need draws his hand back to try to finish with your sultry voice at the vintage microphone as the soundtrack.

In his mind, Bucky sees you throw your head back to croon something that sounds so much like lovemaking it’s enough to send him, and he falls to his knees shooting ropes of grateful release all over the floor in front of him.

It’s one of the best he’s ever had, almost worth the mess he’s made.

Fuck.

Your head’s thrown back, hips rocking at a pace you’d never be able to manage without Steve’s solid hand supporting your arched back as shards of honeyed pleasure start to strike from the oncoming storm of an orgasm. He’d promised to hold back, worried he’d hurt you, but with a groan you start begging.

“Steve let go, come with me, I can take it. I need you, I--”

He whimpers your name and complies, obliging but forceful, his powerful thrusts in perfect time with yours until seconds later, Steve slams his hand down beside you and comes. The very feel of it prompts your orgasm, pitching you forward onto his chest in a sobbing puddle of relief and ecstasy.

Neither of you moves, still connected, as both of you catch your breath.

“Is it me or was that even better than--” You stop, unwilling to say ‘usual’ or ‘before’ because you are not, not going to acknowledge aloud that you have an ongoing sexual, but not romantic relationship with Steve Rogers.

Just thinking that reveals that the hurricane of pleasure earlier came with some piercing debris you’d rather not try to heal right now.

“I’d say yes.”

To be continued...

126 notes · View notes

writingforstraykids · 11 months ago

Text

Addicted to you Chp.21

Pairing: Minchan (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4613

Summary: Chan and Minho organize a long break for the whole group, knowing they all need one after these troubling times. Five months later, Chan gets a taste of Minho in his best form, and he couldn't be more proud.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, cuddles, smut, min is insecure about his weight gain, small misunderstanding, the boys are in love

Chp. 20 | Back to the beginning

A/N: Thank you to everyone who made it this far and enjoyed the story. Thank you for the lovely requests and comments, they made the whole process so much more fun. My first Stray Kids project is officially "done". As always, I am open to writing more as long as you have concrete wishes and ideas. I've enjoyed writing this series a lot, delving a little more into the aspects of their hidden relationship, the insecurities and challenges that come with that, and so on. So please, if you'd like more, maybe also about the other pairings in this specific setting, don't hesitate to let me know - Nat🖤

Setting fire to my already tamed feelings Don't make me bad, bad Addicted to you Once we've started, you must be mine Addicted to you - Lee Know, Felix & Hyunjin

“I need a break,” Chan announced to the room. Everyone stared at him, surprised but curious about the sudden confession. Everyone just finished lunch and gathered in the living room to relax.

“Uh, thanks for the warning?” Felix chuckled.

“We all do,” Chan continued on. The boys began to share confused expressions. “We’ve been working our asses off ever since Minho came back. None of us has had time to rest.”

“That’s true,” Changbin nodded.

“I talked to our management and got us all a month off,” he said and smiled as they all looked at him with a mixture of shock and excitement. “I want you all to go home for a while. Check in with your families, spend some time with them. I’ll be leaving a few days earlier than you all. I promised my mum to stay with them for a while after they found out most of what happened through our recent interviews. If you’d like, we could still go on vacation together during the last week. Maybe you all could come to Australia again.”

“That was quite fun,” Jeongin nodded excitedly.

“And they approved all of us leaving for a month?” Jisung asked, stunned.

“It took some work,” Minho admitted. “But we’ve told them that the past few months have been too much not only for Chan and myself. I, more or less, let them know that they’d have to deal with more public breakdowns if we wouldn’t get a break soon,” he laughed.

“Which was quite convincing, apparently,” Chan giggled. “So vacation starts in two days. Felix, you’ll still have to attend that fashion event in four days, but then you’re free to leave.”

“Sounds good to me,” Felix smiled excitedly. He couldn’t wait to go back home for a while. “My parents would love to see you guys again.”

“My mother hasn’t been talking about anything else since I suggested it,” Chan snorted.

“As long as she makes us that amazing dinner from last time again,” Hyunjin grinned.

“I bet she will,” Seungmin laughed.

"Australia it is then," Minho nodded, chuckling at his friends. As everyone continued the conversation, his heart warmed seeing the people he loved most…happy.

Chan had been gone for a week now. Everyone else, besides Felix and Minho, left for home two days ago. Minho decided to stay with Felix before he flew to Australia so he didn’t have to stay at the house all by himself.

“How’s Chan?” Felix asked one evening as they sat together on the sofa.

“He’s having a bit of a hard time, I think,” Minho told him. “His parents are still really worried. His sister was pretty pissed he didn’t tell her how he was feeling instead of having to find out through the interviews.”

“She’ll calm down in a few days,” Felix chuckled.

“That’s what I told him,” he nodded, but a slight unease still lay in his tone.

“But?” Felix asked, picking up on it.

“You know Chan, he always gets a little depressed without us there,” he shrugged and leaned back. “He keeps telling me how much he misses me. He never did that before either. It’s not like we haven’t been apart for this long before,” he giggled softly.

“You never meant this much to him before,” he reminded him kindly.

“Fair point,” Minho sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I have an idea,” he told him excitedly. “You’ve just visited home, and you always visit your parents after therapy. I bet they wouldn’t mind if you’d come with me instead.”

“To Australia? So early?” he asked, opening his eyes to give Felix a confused look.

“Yeah. I always book two seats to have some peace during the flight so I can take you with me easily,” he told him. “We could surprise Chan with you just showing up at the front door.”

Minho giggled softly. “That would actually be fun.”

“Come on, call your mum. I’m sure she’d agree,” he laughed.

Minho quickly grabbed his phone, calling his mother. “Hi, mum,” he said cheerfully. “I have a question,” he got straight to the point, putting her on speaker. But there was no response, to Minho’s disbelief. “Mum?” he called out with a small whine, a cute pout beginning to rest on his lips.

“You’ll be leaving for Australia early?” she asked, laughing as Minho gasped.

“How the hell did you guess that?” he asked, stunned. Felix started laughing at him in the background.

“Oh please! You were talking about your boyfriend nonstop when you came over last week. Also, you’ve been visiting here so often now that I knew you wouldn’t feel bad not coming to stay with us for a few weeks,” she laughed. “I bet he really misses you, Min.”

“He does,” Minho nodded.

“You should go,” she told him kindly. “Felix?” she asked, quickly identifying him by his cheerful laugh.

“Yes?” he asked politely.

“Take care of him on that flight, yeah?” she asked.

“Of course I will,” he promised. “I’ll bring him back to you safely.” Minho’s mom gave her goodbyes and ended the call.

Minho smiled widely and pulled Felix into a warm, gentle hug. “Thank you, Felix.”

Felix nodded and hugged Minho, squeezing him tightly. “Of course, Minho.”

Chan was still lying in bed, scrolling through his phone and trying to stay awake. He tossed and turned all night, and the lack of sleep was trying to lure him back into a deep slumber. He yawned softly and stretched his tired body. He began smiling as he heard the small patter of his dog coming down the hallway and into his room, hopping on the bed. “Hi Berry,” he said softly.

“Chris?” his mother called out for him from downstairs.

“Yes mom?” he shouted back, not really feeling like moving.

“Someone’s here to see you,” she said. “Can you come down here for a moment?”

He groaned softly. If his mother asked in that tone, he was sure it was a friend of theirs wanting to see how their idol son was doing, maybe even collecting a few autographs on the way. “Fine,” he groaned, quickly pulling a sweater over his head to cover his naked chest. He walked down the stairs, not noticing the person standing next to his sister with a grumble to himself. “I swear if this is another - Minho?!” he asked, his jaw dropping as he finally looked up at the visitor in question.

“Surprise?” he asked gently. Before he knew it, Chan was in his arms, lifting and spinning him around. “Channie, nooo” he giggled, wrapping his legs around his waist. “I just stepped off the plane, go easy on me!”

“What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve picked you up from the airport,” he pouted, a whine can be heard through his tone.

“Hannah did,” Minho said gently. Chan looked at her surprised, not believing she was in on the surprise. “Felix had an extra seat, and we decided to surprise you.”

“When do you leave?” he asked.

“Whenever you leave,” he told him. Chan’s smile widened. Minho laughed as he put him back down on the ground and hugged him tightly.

“And where will you be staying?” he asked, still not fully grasping that he was actually there.

“Here, you dumbass,” Hannah told him, rolling her eyes at him.

“Your mum said it would be alright,” Minho said gently.

“Of course it is!” she assured him with a bright smile. “You’re always welcome here, Minho.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at her. Chan couldn’t help himself anymore and kissed him passionately, pulling him in close. Minho grunted softly, but returned the kiss happily. He pulled back and stared at him, a bit dazed. “I suppose you told them about us?”

“Obviously,” Chan laughed.

“I told him fighting to get you back to the group was the one thing he did right the past few weeks,” Hannah said teasingly.

Minho giggled softly and pulled her into a hug. “I missed you too, little sister,” he said fondly. “But don’t be too hard on him, alright? I wasn’t exactly easy to be around either.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, but they knew she meant well. Minho was always fond of Hannah since the day they met.

Minho smiled at Chan and reached out for him, grabbing his hand. “I think I need a nap.”

“That’s the jetlag,” he chuckled. “I had another shitty night myself, let’s go.” Minho followed him upstairs to his room, giggling as Chan threw the door closed and kissed him needily. “Fuck, I missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too, love,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around his neck. “So, so much.” Chan buried his face in his shoulder, hugging him even tighter. “Are you okay?” his voice laced with care and warmth, fondling his hair.

“Yeah,” he whispered, hot tears burning in his eyes.

“Channie?” he asked gently, pulling back a little and lifting his face. “Oh, angel,” he whispered.

“I really fucking missed you, that’s all,” he assured him.

“You’re so cute,” he told him, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m here now. I won’t stop getting on your nerves for a whole month,” he smirked. “There’s no staff to stop us either. And the others get here in three weeks.”

“Sounds perfect,” he smiled and brushed their noses together. “Just you and me.”

“Mhm, just you and me, Channie,” he smiled softly, cupping his face and kissing him gently. The two almost got lost in their embrace, until Minho pulled back to speak. “Uh, before I forget, my therapist asked if you’d like to join the next session?”

Chan frowned softly at the request. “Why?”

“She thinks it’ll be easier to work through certain things that happened with you there. Like collapsing on stage and getting to the hospital after. I don't have many memories of that night,” he shrugged.

“Alright, sure thing,” he nodded. “Now let’s get some sleep.”

Five months later

Minho looked at himself in the mirror, carefully fixing his hair. He was wearing a perfectly fitted dark suit that hugged him in all the right places, the vest painted with blue stripes. A delicate necklace rested on his skin, and a ring on each hand completed the look. The one on his right ring finger being a present from his boyfriend. The color definitely complimented his dark hair. He crouched down a little, testing his trousers, which were a little tight.

"Minho hyung, what are you doing?" Felix laughed at him, leaning against the vanity not too far from him. He was walking around looking for his friend, just to make sure he was doing okay.

Minho met his eyes through the mirror and started to laugh as well. "I'm scared I'll rip them. They're not the best fit for this dance."

Hyunjin looked up from his phone, sitting comfortably on a nearby couch. "I bet Chan wouldn't agree with you on that."

Felix grinned and made his way over, taking a closer look. "I think you look stunning. Time to tease your boyfriend."

Minho chuckled at them and playfully rolled his eyes. "Don't think Changbin won't drool over you either," he winked at him, making the younger one blush. "Oh wait, we have another style expert right here. Doesn't our sunshine look handsome, Hyunjin?" he asked the younger male and turned Felix in his direction.

Hyunjin smirked and put his phone aside. "What do you think made him blush so hard a minute ago?"

"Oh, I see," Minho chuckled. Hyunjin got up and made his way over, gently grabbing Felix's chin and looking deep into his eyes. The shiteating grin on his face not leaving for a second as his gaze devoured Felix. Minho sensed it and took note. "That's my que to leave. Remember, we have to be on stage in ten minutes. I don't want either one of you to go out there hard."

Felix quickly grabbed Minho's hand and held him back. "If you leave, he won't stop being a tease. I’ll definitely be in trouble then." Felix pleaded with the cutest pout on his lips.

Minho giggled softly and stayed where he was, taking out his phone. With a chuckle, Hyunjin decided to have mercy on Felix and gave him a sweet, loving kiss. Meanwhile, Minho saw a few messages from Chan pop up and smiled stupidly, reading them.

I’m so proud of you, baby! You’re gonna be amazing out there. Good luck!

Minho texted a few hearts back and chuckled as Chan asked for a picture. He told him he had to see his reaction live, which made Chan send a bunch of emojis. "Alright, let's go," he said, putting his phone aside.

The three of them made their way to the side-stage and looked into the audience. "That's a lot of people out there," Felix whispered. The older two took his hands, squeezing them encouragingly.

"Perfect audience to perform this song for, for the first time ever," Hyunjin told him, winking cheekily at him.

"Look, there’s Channie and the boys," Minho said, pointing at the first row a little to the right. Chan and Changbin were sitting next to each other, almost placed perfectly in his opinion, to watch Felix and himself. Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin were sitting next to Chan, all waiting curiously for their friends to come on stage. They began to walk out on stage as their names were announced and smirked at the screams, combined with Chan's eyes widening seeing his outfit. They both knew Chan was a sucker for him in blue. The lights only increased the effect.

As they waited for the music to start, Minho met Chan's eyes and teasingly opened his suit jacket with a winning smirk, putting the ring on display. He had trouble holding back a grin as Chan licked his lips. The fans started cheering at his action, and Minho turned his attention to the audience. He chuckled into the microphone and did it again, this time for the audience, before getting shy at the screams and smiling brightly, looking down at the floor. Felix and Hyunjin giggled at his antics, trying to stay serious themselves.

Changbin and Chan exchanged a look, knowing the other probably had the same impure thoughts about his boyfriend. "Fuck me," Chan breathed out quietly, and Changbin chuckled at him.

"I'm sure he would if you'd ask nicely," he grinned and earned a punch in his arm. The others laughed at them, not needing to hear them to know what they were talking about.

The music started, and Minho locked in, starting to move to the beat. It was kind of funny that not even their members knew what they were in for. The moment Felix's beautiful, deep voice rang through the air, the fans started shouting, and honestly, he didn't blame them. Minho started his verse, and to his surprise, he got about the same reaction to his smooth, soft voice. A rush of adrenaline filled him, and he knew he was performing well, judging by the looks of his members as he danced during Hyunjin's part. Minho took a deep breath and casually strolled to the side before starting to sing the higher notes, hitting them all beautifully making the crowd go wild once more. Chan beamed at him proudly, knowing how hard he had worked to perfect that part.

Chan was mesmerized, looking up at his boyfriend on stage in awe. He looked beautiful in this outfit, and his heart warmed seeing him wearing the ring he bought him. His voice sounded amazing tonight, and his stage presence was undeniable. Thinking about it, Chan couldn't remember ever seeing him so in his element like this, which meant a lot, considering Minho was their main dancer.

What didn't help was watching the way his body moved in front of thousands of people and knowing how he looked beneath the many layers of fabric. Chan did, in fact, appreciate the tight suit pants, and his jaw dropped as he got down on the floor, rolling his hips with his hand placed dangerously close to his crotch. Jisung nudged him gently, and he quickly closed his mouth again, shifting a little in his seat.

Minho moved into a sitting position, continuing his dance movements. His intense gaze locked into Chan’s, captivating him as he continued singing. "Don't make me bad, make me bad, I'm addicted to you….Don't make me bad, bad, addicted to you."

Chan's eyes clouded with desire the longer he watched him. He couldn't help himself feeling like Minho put on a perfectly balanced show for him and their fans.

The performance came to an end, and they took their ending pose. Minho panted softly before meeting eyes with Chan and smirking succeedingly, knowing exactly how much he had just worked him up. He exchanged a look with Felix and Hyunjin before they all left the stage, waving at their cheering fans and friends.

They made their way back to their room and weren't even able to sit down as their friends and boyfriends stepped inside. Minho's eyes widened at how loud the room suddenly was, and laughed at their friends, telling them how amazing their performance was. Locking eyes with Chan made him shiver with anticipation. Chan simply nodded at the door before leaving again. Minho slipped outside as the others were busy and frowned softly when Chan was nowhere to be seen. He walked down the hallway, and a door to his left opened. Chan grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, throwing the door closed again. Minho found himself pressed against the door within seconds, and a low moan fell from his lips as Chan braced himself next to his head, looking down at him with nothing but desire in his eyes. "Hi there," he said innocently. "You liked the performance?"

Chan grabbed his chin and searched his eyes. "You think it's funny making me hard in front of I don't know how many people?"

"You…wow," he grinned proudly.

"Don't look so smug," Chan giggled and groaned softly, pressing their foreheads together. "Fuck, you looked hot up there, baby."

"Thank you," he smiled sweetly and nudged his nose. "What's the secret room reserved for you only about?" he asked, spotting the name sign on the desk right in front of the mirror. Catching his reflection, he had to admit he was looking great tonight, even now that his hair was a bit of a mess.

"So I can kiss you without anyone seeing, of course," Chan answered casually.

"Oh," he nodded and couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"You sound like that's a bad idea," he commented, frowning at him. He almost looked a little disappointed. "Did you think we'd - Minho!"

"What?" he asked, slightly offended, and ducked down, taking a step to the side and away from him. "I'm sorry. I thought that was your intention, leading me away from everyone. You could've kissed me in our room."

"You can't possibly think I wanted to have sex right here? With so many people passing by that door at all times?" he was a little in shock, and Minho rolled his eyes at him before sitting on the desk.

"Why not? When did that ever bother you before, huh?" he asked and started fiddling with the necklace to take it off. "Forget it. This was a stupid idea," he said and took off the necklace, slamming it down on the table.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked softly.

"No, obviously not. I'm making a fool out of myself here hoping this-," he gestured at himself. "-would finally make me attractive enough in your eyes again to go further than a kiss."

"Wait, what?" he asked truly shocked now. His eyes widened at what he thought Minho was insinuating.

"Two months ago, you would've gotten into my pants before I properly locked the door. You've been locking yourself up with Hannie and Changbin lately. And it's starting to piss Felix off, but I guess it makes me question myself. I don't know when the last you actually touched me and…is it because I gained weight again?" he asked, a flare of insecurity igniting in his brain as he glanced down at how his form-fitting. "Or-," he stopped as Chan was suddenly in front of him, cupping his face.

"Baby, take a deep breath," he said kindly, and Minho glared at him, huffing softly but doing it anyways. "I'm so sorry for neglecting your needs. We've just been creating so much for the group and working on new stuff. I didn't know it was making you question yourself."

"Well, of course it does," he pouted and nervously played with his ring, looking down at it. "Just forget it, Channie. I'm being stupid, this whole idea was stupid from the beginning."

"What idea?" he chuckled softly.

"All of this," he said grumpily as Chan seemed to find it amusing.

"A warning would've been nice, kitten," he said, his voice growing smooth and low.

Minho blinked at him, and his stomach flipped at the desire dancing in Chan's pupils. "About what? The outfit, the flirting, the dance..the intention behind all of it?" he asked innocently.

Chan fondled up his thighs. "All of it?" he asked quietly and leaned in closer.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" Minho asked and sank deep into his eyes.

"I would've come prepared," he told him.

"Check my pockets," he smirked and hopped off the table.

Chan frowned softly before reaching into the pocket at the back. He couldn't help himself, teasingly squeezing his ass before pulling out two condoms. "Did you..?"

"No, I didn't carry them around on stage, you dumbass. I had them stored away in the waiting room," he protested, taking out the small bottle of lube from his jacket.

"Fuck Min. Are you sure we can do this now?" he asked, checking his phone for the time.

"Seriously? There are twenty performances before ours, which gives us at least an hour," he groaned impatiently. "But if you keep wasting time, we can't do this."

"You really came prepared, huh," Chan giggled, watching Minho impatiently unbuckling his belt. "You're in a rush?"

"Whatever you plan on doing, these trousers come off," he told him.

"That's a bummer. Your ass and thighs look really great in it," Chan pouted playfully.

"They look even better when I’m straddling your dick, now move or I'll do it myself," he gave back smoothly with a hint of sassiness. Chan pulled him into a very passionate kiss, intoxicating enough to keep him dazed. His hands grabbed his ass, pulling him close as their lips met. "That's more like it," Minho smiled as he pulled back.

Chan hummed gently and unbuttoned the blue-striped vest, kissing down his torso as more skin slowly revealed itself. "By the way, you look beautiful as always, and I don't mind you gaining weight one bit," he assured him before planting a loving kiss right on the scar on his stomach.

Minho smiled gently and brushed his hair back, looking down at him. "I know…you know how I get sometimes."

"I do," he smiled and squeezed his hips before coming back up and kissing him on the mouth instead. "I think after delivering such a show, you deserve to see how stunning you look when you fall apart."

Minho gasped softly and looked at him with wide eyes, darkening with passion. "Just be careful and don't leave a mark in places people will see with the new outfit."

"I'll be careful," he promised before turning him around so he was facing the mirror.

Minho leaned back against him, inspected their reflection, and met his eyes through the mirror. "Don't we look good together?"

"I think we fit together perfectly," Chan hummed, agreeing, and reached down into his pants, stroking his dick gently. Minho's eyes fluttered, lips parting with a gasp. Chan growled lowly and buried his nose in his neck. "Fuck Min, please tell me you're keeping this outfit. I need to fuck you properly in it tonight."

Minho blinked at him through the mirror. "Shit, is this one of your kinks, hyung?"

Chan pressed himself against him and gently wrapped his hand around his neck, careful not to leave any marks. "Call it whatever you want, kitten."

Minho shivered at the contact and melted against him. "I mean, I can ask if I can keep it," he said and chuckled as Chan let go of him, dropping down to his knees in front of him.

"You're right, I haven't been appreciating what I come home to every night enough," he tells him and fondles up his thighs. "Let me make it up to you," he said, taking the band of his boxers between his teeth and pulling them down, along with his pants.

"Where's Chan hyung?" Changbin asked, confused.

"Probably fucking Minho hyung's brains out, why?" Jeongin gave back dryly. The painfully loud silence called him to look up from his phone. "What?!"

"Sometimes it scares me how grown-up you are now," Hyunjin said with wide eyes. His words were rewarded with him sticking his tongue out at him.

"Maybe it's the other way around," Seungmin suggested with a shrug, casually scrolling through his phone.

"The suit might work," Jisung hummed, agreeing.

"I hate you all," Changbin groaned.

"Loosen up, babe," Felix smirked. "We all know he's right."

"Exactly," Jeongin grinned before squinting his eyes at Felix and Changbin. "Also, weren't you doing the same thing just minutes ago?"

"Darling, that's enough," Seungmin said softly.

"At this point, we should be allowed to do it on the sofa. Everyone knows anyway," he shrugged.

"Minho hyung, help!" Hyunjin shouted in shock, making everyone laugh. "He'd kick your ass for that."

"I'll go and get some coffee. Let's hope they're back to collect their kids after," Changbin sighed, and Felix giggled softly.

"You're their kid too, dumbass," Jisung pointed out.

"Yeah, fuck you too," he laughed.

Minho pulled up the zipper of his pants, smirking at Chan, fixing his messed-up hair. Their eyes met through the mirror, and Chan turned, again dropping to his knees. He hugged him tight, burying his face in his stomach for a moment before looking up at him with dreamy eyes. Minho beamed at him, gently brushing back his hair. He hadn't been this happy in a while, being on stage without thinking about his knee anymore. He had his friends there, a very supportive boyfriend, and gosh, he loved him. All that stupid drama, those many lows and equal ups in between had made them grow much closer than before. He wouldn't want it any different now. Minho was finally truly happy, ready to face whatever was coming with Chan right by his side. This time, he was sure he'd have his back. "Channie hyung?"

"Yes?" he asked sweetly.

"I love you," he said. "Never forget that."

"I think I'm addicted to you," Chan breathed out, and his eyes grew incredibly soft. "I love you more than anything else."

"You'd die for those kids out there. Don't put me first," he giggled softly.

"I'd die for you too," he told him. Minho believed him, truly.

"Stay alive for me, baby boy," Minho shook his head, crouching down and kissing him hard on the mouth as tears brimmed Chan's eyes.

"I love you too," he whispered and took his hand, kissing the ring. He got up and held up his pinky finger. “You and me against the world?”

“Forever,” Minho answered smiling, sealing the deal.

Chp. 20 | Back to the beginning

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @mal-lunar-28 @aaasia111 @lilmisssona @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @mellhwang @lixie-phoria @michelle4eve @xxstrayland @lost-in-avoidance

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vixenpen · 1 year ago

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Our Year (Eddie Munson x Black Fem y/n)

Okaaayyyy, sooo, hi 👋🏾 it’s been five fucking ever since I’ve written anything on this page. But I love this story so much and I missed writing for a new fandom. So, before you guys read on, I have to mention that I’ll be moving this fic onto AO3. I’m also going to making y/n into an OC (still black of course) so if you enjoy this fic, feel free to read it over there and get to know Alissa Porter!

“Look, they’re leaving.” Michaela giggled.

“Aawww, did we do that?” Liz added, with a mocking chuckle.

“Guys, that wasn’t cool.” Chrissy replied.

“God, Chrissy, you’re such a drag tonight.” Michaela rolled her eyes. “Where is your sense of fun?”

“Where’s yours?” Chrissy snapped back. “We were supposed to be having girls night out and we’ve spent the entire night worried about y/n and Eddie. Can we just watch the rest of the movie, please?”

The rest of the girls fell silent in the wake of Chrissy’s outburst until finally Frenchie replied: “Fine, geez. No need to spaz out over it.”

The girls fell silent, turning their attention to the screen rather than argue back with Chrissy. Lucky thing too, because Chrissy was finally able to relax for the first time all night as they enjoyed the movie. An hour later, the movie was over and the night was still young.

“It’s only 10:30, what do you guys wanna do now?” Liz asked.

“We could always call up the guys and see if there’s a party going on.” Michaela suggested.

“Liz, aren’t your parents out?” Chrissy quizzed. “Why don’t we have The Team over for a get together?” She suggested.

“No way, remember how close we cut it last time when my parents told me they were coming home early?” Lizzie steered her station wagon into the procession of cars leaving the drive-in. “Let’s do Frenchie’s place.”

“Oh, so I get in trouble?” Frenchie exclaimed.

As they exited the parking lot, a loud fizzing sound caught Chrissy’s attention. Before any of the girls could figure out what was happening, Liz’s windshield was splattered with coke and soggy napkins.

The girls screamed as Liz slammed on the brakes, sending everyone lurching forward.

Tires screeched against concrete as the culprit sped away, but the perpetrators were far from anonymous as Eddie’s voice yelled from the distance.

“That’s for my tapes, you cheer cunts!”

“Oh. My. GOD!” Lizzie screamed.

“Those freaks!”

Chrissy’s mouth dropped. She hadn’t thought Eddie or y/n would have that in them.

“Now, should we just ignore them, Chrissy?” Liz turned to her, angrily. “Those freaks ruined my car.”

“They didn’t ruin your car, Liz.” Chrissy replied, rolling her eyes. “We got them and they got us back. Let’s just get to your place and hose it off before it gets sticky.”

“Fine.” Liz grumbled. “But this isn’t over. Especially not with The Freak’s bride.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe we did that!” You laughed as the two of you drove away.

“Your aim and timing was perfect, babe.” Eddie laughed.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling I’m gonna be dealing with the consequences come next practice.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Eddie scowled.

“Oh no, Eddie please don’t start any trouble.”

“I’m not starting it, I’m finishing it. If those cheer cunts wanna come after you, I’ll be ready.”

“I can take care of myself, babe, don’t worry. You should be worried about those hoop heads coming after you after that stunt. Especially Jason.”

“I’m not worried. Jason’s scared of me. Has been since I kicked his ass in the locker room that time and definitely since everyone thinks I’m a devil worshipping magic man.” He wiggled his fingers at you, playfully.

“Wait, you fought him before?” You gawked.

“Oh yeah, Sophomore year. His sophomore year that is. He and his hoop head friends were talking shit about me being behind in my grade so I told him to say it to my face. He did, and I put him in a headlock. Body slammed him and everything. He’s only come at me twice since. I’ll admit, he definitely holds his own better since bulking up from basketball, but he’s never beat me in a fight.”

“Woooah! What!” You exclaimed, shocked by Eddie’s revelation. “Let me find out I’m dating a secret bad boy. Since when was my lover boy a fighter?”

Eddie shot you a sidelong smile that almost turned you on as much as learning about his hidden fighting skills.

“Hey, you learn a few things when your dickhead of a dad was a former jock. Anyway, his buddies keep his ass kicking under wraps, but they know the truth.“

You could only stare at your boyfriend’s unassuming profile as he stared ahead wearing a soft smile. As if kicking Jason Carver’s ass was a fond memory. His big, brown eyes were so soft and boyish and his smile was adorably innocent. Never would you have imagined a soul as gentle as Eddie’s could be capable of that kind of violence.

He took his eyes off the road for a split second to glance at you.

“Y/n? What’s up?”

“I can’t stop imagining you body slamming Jason Carver.” You shook your head. “That’s really fucking hot.”

Eddie chuckled.

“And here I thought you weren’t like the other girls who only liked bad boys.”

“I’m not,” you replied stroking his thigh,“but a good guy with a secret bad boy streak is a turn on.”

Eddie shifted in his seat as your hand inched closer to his crotch.

“Oh yeah?” His voice cracked.

“Yeah.” You giggled back. “And we never got to finish what we started at the movie…”

Eddie bit his lip.

“The night’s still young.” He eyed you back. “Wanna go back to my place?”

“Duh.” You smirked

“Alright ladies, let’s welcome our newest Hawkins High Tigerettes!” Coach Stacy clapped. She was a peppy forty something Asian woman with a valley girl accent and her ever perky attitude was both annoying and endearing.

You ignored the glares of Liz Rawlins and Michaela Washington as your fellow cheer sisters clapped along to welcome you and the six other new girls on the team. Once that was over, Coach Stacy continued.

“Now, we have a lot of work to do to prepare for the upcoming season, starting with a new cheer and chant. So, I want my veterans to help out the newbies as much as possible. The faster we can get through these new cheers the faster we can get to our stunt routines! Captains, let’s get started.”

Chrissy and Liz stepped forward all bright smiles to lead you guys in your stretches. So far so good. Most of the head cheerleaders hated your guts, but at least with an adult present they wouldn’t try to do anything about it.

Or so you thought. As Coach Stacy began to show you guys the moves for the new routine, you found yourself getting tripped, poked, and “accidentally” punched in the arm as the girls found their formation. It was clear, the core four, Chrissy, Michaela, Frenchie, and Liz had already spread the news that you were the team punching bag.

“Y/n, is everything ok?” Stacy asked, her brows wrinkled. “You seem a little off.”

“I’m fine coach, but the girls in my line are a little too close to me. I keep tripping. Maybe if I stepped forward on three instead, I could avoid their fists and feet.”

You demonstrated the step differently and Stacy nodded.

“Hmm, you might be on to something, y/n. We’ll try it your way on that count. Keep showing initiative like that, and you could be captain.” She winked.

Coach Stacy might’ve been impressed but your squad mates were anything but as they glared at you. Whatever. They were lucky you didn’t snitch on them.

Eventually, the girls gave up trying to get your goat in practice and things started running smoothly. Finally, it was time for your first ten minute break.

Coach Stacy exited the gym to make a call while the other girls gathered on the bleachers. Except for you. You headed for the exit, only to be intercepted by Frenchie, Liz, and Michaela.

Your heart revved with adrenaline, but your straightened and crossed your arms to stare them down.

“May I help you ladies?”

“You sure can.” Liz replied. “You can start by cleaning my car, Freakella.”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard her.” Frenchie cut in. “We know it was you and your shaggy dog of a boyfriend who trashed Liz’s car on Saturday.”

“And I know it was you three stooges who trashed my boyfriend’s on Saturday. So, as I see it, we got even. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need water.” You shoved Lizzie out of the way. “I’m exhausted from carrying this team on my back for the past half hour.”

The girls gasped as you pushed past them.

“Bitch.”

“Who does she think she is?”

You heard them whisper as you entered the half empty halls. The only people left at this time of the day were a few students in clubs, a handful of teachers, and the janitors.

You found the nearest water fountain and took your time hydrating. At that moment a wolf whistle piped up from behind you.

You whipped around to see your boyfriend’s sweet grin.

“Lookin’ good in that skirt, future captain.”

“Eddie!” You exclaimed, immediately running into his arms.

Eddie picked you up off your feet, holding you tight. After being picked on for the last thirty minutes straight, his warm comforting frame was such a relief. He smelled like his favorite cheap cologne and weed.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as he lowered you to the floor, never releasing your waist.

“Gotta make sure my little minions get home in one peace. They got AV club today.”

“Oh, the freshies you adopted?” You giggled, referring to the nerdy group of boys that Eddie had taken under his wing. Lucas, Dustin, and Mike were sweet, smart, misunderstood kids, and you loved how brotherly Eddie was with them.

“Yeah, my little protégés in training. You know some of these douchey upperclassmen can’t wait to pick on the fresh meat.” He rolled his eyes. “Cowards. Anyway, how’s practice going?”

“It’s… going…” You sighed.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s probing brown eyes took in your expression. “I know it’s going, y/n, is it going well or is it going bad is what I’m asked.”

“The core four are kinda out for my head right now.”

“Do I have to come in there?” Eddie frowned.

“No, don’t just… be here to walk me out when it finishes. It’ll be over in another half hour.”

“As the lady wishes.” Eddie booped your nose. “The kiddos should be done by then too.”

“Cool. Well, I gotta get back in, babe. See in a minute.”

Eddie kissed your forehead gently before letting you back into the gym.

The rest of practice went well enough, but it dawned on you that if these girls were trying their hardest to hurt you during the regular cheers and chants they could really hurt you during the stunt routines.

Shit. How were you going to navigate that?

As you guys started doing your last rundown of the choreography Coach Stacy taught you, the door cracked open and in walked Eddie.

He shot you a smile and a wave and you returned the gesture. That was when you heard the whispers start out. Before you could tell them to say it to your face, the door opened a second time and Jason entered followed by two of his fellow teammates.

Oh fuck.

You thought as your eyes darted to Eddie. You silently begged him to not engage with those assholes if they started shit. With fifteen minutes to go in practice, there was nothing you could do except hope the boys stayed in their own corners until it was over.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #black reader insert #archive of our own #black fem reader #stranger things fanfiction #80s aesthetic #80s #SoundCloud

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fnaffersblog · 2 years ago

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Wawawa you're fine! I love reading your thoughts about the show. You always have great takes so it's always a treat to read! Honestly you are completely correct that both Sun and Moon have too much problems to work through alone. Like they're getting better, but if someone doesn't intervene soon something is going to happen that might actually cause unfixable damage.

I can't help but wonder if part of New Moon's improvement in the emotions department has to do with Earth. Like it's a given that the old Moon didn't know how to deal with social issues at all, but honestly considering how he came to be it's surprising he wasn't worse off. The newer Moon though had a much more tolerant beginning. Sure it sucked that he literally woke up just to find out that he has a lot of problems to look forward to, but at least he had a supportive family (even if he didn't know them) to help him get his footing. I feel like that helped Moon a lot in being able to process things and helped him have a more healthy mindset. Earth probably led to a good chunk of the positive coping skills. Moon knows Earth is probably the most emotionally intelligent of them all so why not try to emulate some of her caring nature though emulating can only do so much if you're still clueless on the emotional cues :')

Also thank you for saying the part where the old Moon and Sun really didn't know each other as well as they thought they did. I've always sort of had that thought in the back of my mind but I never really gave it much thought, and now I'm sad thinking about how Sun really never got to know old Moon personally before he got erased. Sure the newer Moon is basically the same just reset but there are certain things that the old Moon experienced that the new one will never truly get because it didn't happen to him.

As for the name choice, Spigot is what Lunar named the toy reindeer he got for Christmas :) Also for your consideration, Cherrim for Sun.

I’m so glad folks like my deep dives! Everyone has been so kind in my comments n stuff, I appreciate that a lot, it makes me really happy. I love seeing other people’s long posts too when I pop into the various SaMs tags. It’s always interesting to see how someone perceived an episode differently than I did, I always end up being like ‘I thought that too!’ or ‘I didn’t even notice that!’ when I read other people’s stuff. It’s great, my favorite part of this. :D

“If someone doesn't intervene soon something is going to happen that might actually cause unfixable damage.” So, this. Yes. Yeah. Took the words right out of my mouth. I’ve been thinking this for awhile now.

It’s… a weird situation. Moon’s reset, even though it happened months ago at this point, has thrown a wrench in the situation.

At this point, Moon… doesn’t really have any issues?

Yeah this is all… a mess to talk about lol.

Old Moon? Yes. Old Moon had a LOT of issues he needed to work through. Had he not been reset, I think he’d be at a breaking point right now right alongside Sun, if he wasn’t actively pushing Sun towards one. Or both.

New Moon is… well, I don’t think we’ve really gotten any sort of indication that he’s having trouble reconciling with the reset. In fact, I don’t think we’ve gotten ANYTHING in regards to how New Moon feels about the reset. I did SAY that in the previous post but it was more me waxing poetic and less concrete proof has been provided that he’s struggling with any emotional turmoil due to the reset. At most, maybe he’s stressed with all the stuff that he’s dealing with all at once?

Like, yeah, he’s annoyed and disturbed by the actions of Old Moon and he thinks Old Moon was a dick but like… does he see that as himself? As a different person? Does he ever think about it at all? Is it on his mind a lot, or is it just something he’s reminded of sometimes? Like, Old Moon is just some guy to him people bring up, or whose stuff he has to sort through sometimes. We’ve gotten nothing as far as I can remember. I don’t think we have any perspective on how New Moon sees the reset at all. We don’t know at all. NOTHING. Which is funny because I really did think, well this was such a huge event for us and for the show, there’s gotta be something unresolved there for New Moon but… I don’t know? It feels more like, considering the way he’s reacted when Sun has brought up stuff Old Moon has done… Like, when Sun talks about stuff Old Moon to New Moon did he says things like, ‘you used to do’ or ‘you did before’ or ‘when old you’ and New Moon always just kinda seems to go ‘huh’ or get quiet, sometimes correcting Sun ‘well I can’t do that now’ and then the conversation moves on. At the very least he must know Sun sees it as Old Moon or previous version of Moon and New Moon or current version of Moon. I can see that causing some contention no matter how New Moon perceives Old Moon in relation to himself.

He’s stressed out because he’s juggling a lot of plates right now, for sure. I mean, he was basically just born and now he’s trying to save the world from six different angles, on top of re-learning/learning everything for the first time. I’d be a little irritable too. But I think that that’s it. He’s at most annoyed and a little burnt out, but all that previous trauma is gone and it’s gone for good, if the most recent lore ep told us anything.

Suns isn’t. Obviously, lol. In fact he kinda called this out himself, that Moon just got to start over and Sun doesn’t. Which is going to cause contention from Suns side.

It’s a mess.

Earth is a TREASURE. I love her. She’s a wonderful character and I’m so happy for her inclusion in the show. She fits so well into Sun and Moon’s dynamic, she’s like a piece that was always missing that no one knew about. Had I more time, I’d talk about her for awhile, because she’s such a sweetheart.

But I agree with literally everything you said in the paragraph about her and Moon. I couldn’t say it better myself. Her being around to help contextualize New Moon’s formative experiences alongside Sun has definitely been a massive factor in his changes.

It makes me curious about her relationship with the creator. The Creator refers to her as daughter and Sun and Moon as mistakes (Though he also talks about her as an object, much like he does the others, tools he created to do things. Even so, he is miles more respectful towards her than he is towards Sun and Moon). If she’s anything like Sun and Moon she was ‘raised’ in the sense that she had programs written into her, but her experiences after she turned on were what shaped her current personality. She is SO MUCH MORE well adjusted than Sun and Moon. Does he… love her? She refers to him as father and is defensive about his actions towards Sun and Moon, she took care of him. It makes me super interested to leanr even more about her ‘childhood’ so to say.

I like Earth.

There’s a lot to grieve about in regards to New Moon. I know a lot of folks were holding onto the idea that perhaps there was a way to return Moon’s memories and I’ll admit I was one of those people. But with what amounts to a concrete confirmation from Golden Freddy alongside just the fact that it happened at all, I think it’s safe to say that Old Moon, ALL of Old Moon is gone. There’s more to say about it, but that’s a longer discussion for a different post.

I did not remember that detail about the reindeer for Lunar! That’s perfect. Also how did I not think of Cherrim for Sun?? It’s literally the perfect Pokemon for him! It’s whole gimmick is the sun AND it’s rays look like petals just like Sun’s rays, I LOVE that. Perfect perfect perfect.

#fafferchat #fafferasks #sams #tsams #sun and moon show #sams moon #sams earth

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eurydicees · 2 years ago

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YOU WROTE 18K BY HAND?? i am so impressed i need to ask what you are writing about. holy shit u are like a god

oh my god ok THANK YOU for asking !!! also in the time since you asked this, i have written another 1,400 words by hand. Anyways. under the cut bc this got. too long.

so this was originally for the 50k big bang project, but it was cancelled so i'm gonna go ahead and talk about it publicly now. SO.

the sparknotes summary: it is an iwaoi post-canon coming of age relationship study !! it's about iwaizumi in california and oikawa in argentina and how they navigate their friendship while long distance. it quite literally walks through every step of their journey from graduation aoba johsai to meeting again at the 2020 olympics....the sheer amount of time i'm covering is why its currently ~88,000 words LMAO.

this fic is literally my little monster. it was supposed to be 30k. then it was supposed to be 50k MAX. it is now 88 thousand words long. anyways though i'm enjoying it.

it's a slow burn get together, but it's also a break up & make up fic. the idea is that they dated in high school and then had to break up bc of the distance--but i think they're probably going to get together in the end. the middle is a whole lot of them growing up and figuring out how they can have a healthy friendship even as adults and dealing with loneliness and adulthood on their own and really coming into themselves as people by the time that they get to the olympics.

i just finished parts two and three, which is iwaizumi's years at university. here are some BANGER lines, if i do say so myself:

after oikawa's visit to california, when he has to leave again:

Oikawa smiles at him, and with that, he takes the handle of his suitcase and walks into the airport. Farther and farther and farther away, until he’s disappeared from sight and Iwaizumi is standing alone again, next to the blinking red hazard lights and the sound of other cars’ wheels on cracked concrete. He gets back into the car. He doesn’t really want to talk to Rich right now, or any one of his other friends or teammates. He kind of just wants to be alone. So he turns off the hazard lights and puts the car in drive and then he takes the long way home.

when iwaizumi is talking to his friends about oikawa:

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries. “We’ve both moved on. It wouldn’t have lasted while we’re in different countries anyway.” He does not mention that Oikawa had asked him to wait. He does not mention that he is—he is waiting, and he doesn’t plan on stopping. He doesn’t plan on breaking that promise to come home. “Ah,” Em says, subdued.

during a drunken NYE call:

Iwaizumi can hear the flinch in Oikawa’s voice. “You miss me?” “I’m not saying it again,” Iwaizumi says, and it sounds like it’s supposed to be angry, but it just comes out tired and sad. “Of fucking course I do. You’re—” “I’m what?” Iwaizumi takes a shuddering breath. “You’re so far away, Tooru. You’re so far away and it makes me—fuck, fuck! I shouldn’t have called. I should—” “No!” Oikawa says it instantly, desperately, cutting off any idea that Iwaizumi should go. Which is good because as much as Iwaizumi wants to escape the embarrassment of this phone call, he doesn’t actually want to hang up. He doesn’t actually want to leave Oikawa now. “Stay. Please. Stay with me.” Iwaizumi pauses for a moment, swallowing down Oikawa’s words and turning them over in his head before saying anything else. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

anywayssssssss!!! it's been REALLY fun to write, but it's also like. an insane labor of love. this fic was my project for nanowrimo july of LAST YEAR, and it's my project again this year. isn't that crazy. so so so much has gone into this fic its literally driving me up the wall. it haunts my every waking moment and also my dreams.

but yeah i don't have wifi where i'm living for the summer, so i've been writing everything by hand and then typing it all up when i can use a hotspot on my phone. i also have the most amount of free time in my life than i have , like, EVER had in my non-child life. so i get to spend so much time writing, which has been sooooo fun. i am begging the universe to keep me from being burnt out bc i'm genuinely having the time of my life working on this.

ok phone's about to die gotta go. thank you for asking i want to talk about this SO bad. please feel free to ask me. please enable me i'm begging you

#ask #july nano 2023 #i have opinions on the value of writing by hand. also enable me to talk about that. please please please

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countrymusiclover · 2 years ago

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77 - The Horrific Merge

Part 78

Gemini Runaway

@icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality

Jo had been forced to take her magic back before Kai killed Liv. And there was supposed to be an eclipse tonight meaning the two twins would merge in place of Liv and Luke. Leading my girls through the streets Jaocb was with us. “I don’t understand why we don’t just use the spell we used on our daughters on the rest of our family we care about.”

“Because I don’t have our uncle’s leader's blood in my grasp anymore. In order for the transfer to take I need his specific blood.” I corrected my brother’s statement. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to save Jo, Liv and Luke. But I just couldn’t physically do it. I designed the spell to attack the specific curse on our bloodline with the coven.

He carried Andrea in his arm’s sighing until he noticed someone strolling in front of us. “I guess so. Uh Rae, we’ve got a problem.”

“What are you - what the hell do you want Kai?” I glanced in his direction seeing Kai strolling up to us whistling a tune.

He smirks, stopping in front of us. “Awe are these your kids. They’ll be cute to kill.”

“Invisquie.” I snapped my fingers where nobody else on the street could see us now. Knowing that we would probably be magic fighting in a few moments. “If you lay a hand on my kids I will skin you alive!”

Kai stepped forward bending down trying to act all nice to get the girls to come forward. “Awe I’m not going to hurt them, Rae Rae. Hey sweeties, do you want a present from your cousin Kai.”

“What kind of presents?” Missy asked moving forward where he touched her fingers with his making her wince when he attempted to siphon from her.

Alina takes my hand in hers, throwing him backwards on the concrete. “Phasmatos Motus!”

“Uh you little bitch. Phasmatos incendia.” He raised his hand trying to hurt her with fire. Yet nothing happens with the rest of us just looking at him. “What that’s not possible. I siphoned her magic. We share blood.”

Jaocb just smirked at him. “You can’t hurt any of us anymore, jerk.”

“What the hell did you do, cousin?” Kai growled, getting to his feet.

Tugging Missy back behind with Hope I let Alina keep standing between me and my brother. “Our parents might be related through blood, yes. But as far as being able to siphon or kill us. You have no power over us. Thanks to my binding spell.”

“You can’t do this, Phasmatos navaro pulsus sanguinox!” Kai tried again, more frustrated that nothing was working.

Alina smirked towards her second cousin launching his blood spell back at him. ““Reboundus!”

“Ah!” He collapsed onto the ground wincing up at us.

Walking towards him I let go of my daughter's hand leaving her standing by her uncle J. Bending on my knees to my cousin I growled in his face. “The next time you try to come after my family. I want you to remember this feeling. And I won’t let you kill Josette, Luke or Olivia ever!”

Turning on my heels we left him there heading to the restaurant we were going to before he found us. It was actually a nice evening until I saw Luke and Liv come inside with our uncle following them inside. “Why are they here, Rae?” Jacob asked knowing I was better with my vamp ears.

“There's nothing to figure out. This is what you were born to do.” Our uncle blabbered off.

Liv rolled her eyes. “No, dad. This is why Kai and Jo were born. We were just the backup plan you bred because you thought that your first batch had a design flaw.”

Joshua raised his voice. “Kai is a psychopath. An extremely dangerous one.”

Liv was trying to convince him to use her sister instead. “Dad, Jo can do this. She can win. All we're asking is that you give her a chance.”

Joshua reached for their hands. “I'm not asking you to do anything I haven't done myself.”

Liv scoffed at her father. “That's easy for you to say. You merged with your twin brother and you won. You didn't drop dead.”

Joshua attempted to make it sound better. “It doesn't work like that and you know it. One will absorb traits from the other. Both of your souls will unite into a new being.”

“A load of bull crap that the merge is a good thing. Let’s get out of here.” Paying for the bill we headed outside into the alleyway buying the girls all ice cream. Halting in my tracks we passed the back alleyway of the restaurant seeing the three standing outside looking at the stars.

“What are you doing out here?” Liv paused beside her twin asking their father.

Joshua turned back towards them smiling. “Just thinking about how proud I am of you and your brother. Built a good life for yourselves here.”

Luke asked his father. “Does that mean you'll think about what we asked?”

“At least you have sympathy to tell them about the curse this family has. You didn’t share the same emotion towards me and my brother. But maybe our mother was right to call you an asshole.” I strided up the group taking a bite out of my cookie dough ice cream.

Joshua turned slightly to us eyeing our daughters. “Rae. J, it’s nice to see you. Oh and are these your kids.”

“Yes. Now what do you want?” Jacob questioned him tugging his daughter against his leg, having the same suspicions that I already did.

He slowly bent down to be level with Alina, Missy and Hope. He sent them each a smile while I glared at my uncle. “I simply wanted to meet them and introduce myself. After all, I am their great uncle Joshua.”

“Mommy, says you’re mean to her.” Missy said licking her strawberry come.

Alina takes a step away from him. “That we shouldn’t trust you.”

“No, no sweet girls. She just is worried I would hurt you. But that’s not true at all. We share a history. A bloodline.” Joshua holds out his hands, one to each of them. “We're in this together. We're family.”

Hope steps around my leg seeing her sister's hand turning red meaning they were feeling his magic. She tilted her head to the side. “Mommy, is that supposed to happen?” She pointed to the lights flickering around us and the wind was picking up speed.

“Son of bitch, Rae. He’s-“ Jacob cut himself off.

Dropping my cone on the ground, my veins and fangs coming to the surface once I realized. “You bastard!”

Joshua starts the merge ceremony but he growls not be able to feel their twin connection in his veins. “Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus…urgh why isn’t it working?”

Luke gasped. “You're merging them?”

Joshua grunted while Missy and Alina tried to pull away but he’s stronger than them. “Kai has been released. He's going after Jo. I can't let him get to her.”

Liv begged him. “Dad, stop!”

Luke shouted at him. “They’re just kids, dad. They are only six years old!”

“Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus - argh Raelyn!” Uncle Joshua finally released their hands holding his head in agony. Missy and Alina rushed over to Jaocb, Hope and Andrea scared. Luke quickly ran of somewhere while Liv stayed with us but I couldn’t care right now.

Vamping him against the crate beside us he grunted sharply. Baring my teeth my hands were wrapped around his throat getting in his face. “You’re a bastard, uncle Joshua. You forced me and my brother to merge and when that didn’t work the way you wanted you came for my daughters!”

“I can’t let Kai merge with Jo. He will win and be the new leader. He will kill us all.” He grunted through my fingertips when I drew some blood from how tightly I held his neck.

Moving one hand to his chest I shoved my hand inside his chest holding his heart. “I may not be able to kill you because I don’t want the twins and Josette dead. But I will do so for this. Tell me, have you ever been skinned alive!”

“I can show you what is happening, Raelyn!” Joshua winced when my fingers tightened a little around his heart.

“And I’m just supposed to believe what you show me is the truth. Since you have such a good track record of telling the truth. I’d rather do it myself.”

Joshua moaned in pain when I ripped a cut open on his hand that was holding onto my forearm with my fangs drawing blood. “Ahhh!”

“Show me, uncle!” Sanguinem desimilus, Sanguinem generis flantes…Tillate ulaz tillate ulaz tillate ulaz. Tillate ulaz tillate ulaz tillate ulaz.” I chanted ripping into my own palm, shoving it over his bleeding hand doing the spell transfer of leader magic that would force me into his mind space.

Kai had taken Jo out into the middle of the park from what I could see when I mind dived to see what he saw. Jo grumbled to her twin. “Let's just get this over with.”

Kai cut his hand open. “So if this is just another setup, I'll rip something out more important than a spleen. Like a tongue or a heart. So, any closing remarks?”

“You're a parasite. You killed the people I loved, you shoved a hunting Knife in my gut. You destroyed my life. Now I'm gonna destroy yours.” Jo holds out her hand for Kai to cut.

Kai jerks it and cuts it. “I guess we'll see. Won't we?”

Jo took his other hand and began chanting. “Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus.”

Jo and Kai then began chanting together. “Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus.Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus.” Until Jo fell backwards and I saw a new image flash through our minds.

Kai and Luke were chanting when I entered his mind again. “Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus. Sanguinem desimilus-- “

Jo cried. “Luke, no!”

“Sanguinem generis fiantus. Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus.” Luke and Kai's eyes both turn white.

Jo sobbed. “Luke! Stop!”

“Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus. Sanguinem desimilus, sanguinem generis fiantus.” Kai and Luke fell backwards, unconscious with Jo crying out.

I dived out of my uncle's mind, drawing my other hand from his chest. I growled through tears stumbling away from him. Joshua dropped to his feet gasping for breath while he locked gazes with me after I had dropped his body from my grasp. “What has your brother done?….what have you done Raelyn? Why couldn’t I feel your daughter's magic, yours or your brothers!”

“Because I used your own spell against you. When you wanted your magic back so badly I had my daughters collect up your blood. Then I did an unlinking spell.” I snarled, clutching my hands into fists not caring about the blood on my right hand or the fact that my daughters were huddled behind their uncle Jacob.

Joshua sniffed through tears seeing the blood on his chest bleeding until he placed a hand over it healing the wound. “Kai will kill us all regardless of a spell that keeps your daughters from having to do the merge….”

“Urgh….hell no!” I winced holding a hand over my heart inside my chest being able to feel the leader magic that I had siphoned from my uncle was now disappearing somewhere else.

Joshua holds his hand out to Liv. “We have to leave. Now.”

Jacob threatened him. “She's not going anywhere with you.”

Joshua declared. “Luke is gone.” His gaze shifted to mine with a horrific look feeling what I had minutes ago.

Liv gasped looking between me and her father. “What? Rae, he can’t be serious.”

Clutching my eyes closed, the vision of Jacob collapsing in front of me flashed through my mind. Releasing my hands from fists I shook my head sniffing through tears. “Liv I, I wish it wasn’t true. But Luke…he’s…”

Joshua finished my train of thought, still terrified. “I can feel it. He merged with Kai and Kai won. Luke is gone.”

Liv began crying. “I don't believe you.”

Joshua grabs Liv's arm trying to drag her away from us. “We have to run, Olivia!”

Liv drew her arm back hugging onto Jacob. “I'm not going anywhere with you!” Joshua sent me a silent look running off into the darkness of night. Slowly walking up to Liv she collapsed against my body when I opened my arms just holding the poor girl. I would never wish the fate I had suffered on her. Now we had to accept that Kai was in charge….for now at least.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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1234somethingyourelookingfor · 23 days ago

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Inside the boundary

I cannot believe that there is something worse than death even though I know a real monster knows no depths to its cruelty.

Me and mother had been driving for a while. It’s been making me nervous,

She had been very keen on it being just me which made me suspicious although it did not rouse my father.

He had been in between jobs for as long as I can remember and there seemed to be nothing my mother could do to push him into working.

I heard her muttering to herself the evening prior.

Sitting on one of our few pieces of furniture, a haphazardly painted rocking chair with paint chips falling off left and right. “Less humans cost less money” her gravelly voice peaking at the end.

I felt my heart sink. I knew she’d be rid of one of us, maybe both, but I suppose she’s planning on dropping me somewhere and moving with dad.

She didn’t bring anything, so I don’t think she’s planning on tying me up to give herself more time to leave with him.

Although with how far out of the city we are I doubt she’s going to need anymore time.

My thoughts were racing, I didn’t notice we’ve stopped.

“We’re out of gas” mother said, “Can you get the gas can from the back seat and bring it out?”

I got out slowly making sure not alert her that I’ve caught on.

She took the spare funnel from the back and then filled it up.

She looked at me with a furrowed brow “Go back in the car” she said annoyed I was still out.

I scrambled back into the weathered seats of her car and could feel a weight falling off of my chest.

She’s not leaving me.

After about ten more minutes driving further outside of the city, we reached a park meant to show off the landscape of Colorado. It’s seated on the ledge of a cliff it tends to be misty most days so people never show up since there would be nothing to see.

This is one of those days.

“What do you think?” Mother asks, gesturing to the landscapes before us.

“It’s okay” I reply once again becoming nervous.

“Well, I thought you might like it.”

“Reminds me of home” she said.

Her eyes had gone cloudy white.

“Mother?” I ask trembling at the unfamiliarity.

I pulled at the door just to realize she put on childlock when we stopped putting in gas. That’s why she wanted me out, my heart dropped into my ass putting together what she had meant to do.

Something that had not even once crossed my mind when I agreed to get into the car with her.

Her fingers lengthened and her eyes sunk into her skull making her look like she’d been dead for weeks.

Before I could say anything, she sped over the cliff and into the mist.

I could feel us falling but we never did land.

I wake feeling the ground pressed to my cheek and a white robe on. Behind me was a huge lake with a waterfall coming from its cliff. Beautiful.

I take it in before turning around and seeing how starkly different it is. There are dilapidated stone houses everywhere, ranging in style from the stone age to Victorian. I take a step forward hoping to go search for my mother.

I realize that my feet are barren as I move the sharp rocks cutting into my feet. I carefully move up onto the concrete street ahead and hope that there are less painful endeavors ahead although I seriously doubt that to be the case.

I had found some shoes in the lake; the water was freezing and there weren’t any signs of life anywhere.

Moving forward through the town things seemed to become more greyscale. Everything but me.

A sudden boom of metal throws me from my thoughts and sends me reeling back. I stepped on my poorly tied shoelaces that were a size too big.

Before I hit the ground, I felt something break my fall.

A woman was behind me her face covered by a medical mask.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes” I replied.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Everywhere, you are on the boundary child” The voice was clear and pleasant.

“How can I get home I ask?” feeling a bit more at ease my muscles relaxing as I change my footing tying my shoes.

“Child, would you like me to accustom your feet to this plane it’ll only take a moment” The woman asked.

“You can say no” She adds.

My feet begin hurting the moment she mentions my feet. Before I can really think about it,

“Yes, please.” Falls from my lips.

Her gloved hands pull the ill-fitting shoes off.

My bare feet burn with all of the cuts, she wraps her hands around my ankles and then swiftly there was no more pain.

“Would you like to rest at my home before you head home?”

“Wait, can you explain more about the boundary or wherever we are?” I ask my voice weaker than I remember.

“The boundary is on the shore of life and quite close so you can put your fears away, we also have a boundless amount of time so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

Her words were easy as she led me to one of the grey buildings nearby.

“How did I get here?” I ask pulling back against her briefly.

“You can come here from anywhere when the conditions are right you could have easily wondered in from a forest.” Her answer clipped with her equally short steps I could tell she was unhappy with my questioning.

“Would please come in to stay?” she asked after briefly going through the threshold.

Reminding her through the doorway of the grey house with a modern-century build, mildly reminding me of the home I live in, I feel oddly warm at this.

“Yes” I say again surprised at it coming out of my mouth.

The woman pulls me in and shows me to a room.

It still looks jarringly familiar; I wonder through the space feeling suddenly tired.

“It’s time for bed I’ll greet you in the morning sweet child” she says startling me from my thoughts with her standing directly behind me.

I lay down in the bed feeling unsettled but finding shelter from the night.

My dreams are silent.

When I wake up the environment is not familiar in any sense of what they were the other day.

I awoke to the sounds of screaming. The room I’m in has morphed into a damp room that held no familiarity of home even the bed, so soft the night before was nothing more than a slab of stone, and the woman was standing domineering in the corner of the room. There was no longer a medical mask over her mouth.

Her mouth was a gaping hole with bone loosely surrounding it, her flesh was now slipping off of the surrounding bone that seemed to be continuous until more holes had appeared like a porous rock. Once her flesh had been stripped the attention was once more on me.

My body started to shake uncontrollably. Looking down I saw where my feet had been and now, I saw only stumps with blood everywhere, practically seeping from the floor.

My stomach dropped the last sensation I can remember from my body was the sound of the woman “Thank you for staying.”

#horror

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notebookpapers · 11 months ago

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the people have asked and they shall receive!! (my full ramblings below the cut)

Okay, so, when looking at these characters and evaluating how powerful they are, I’m going to sort of look at how powerful they would be if we put them in their respective universe’s lore. That being said, I’m basing the Hella-Verse canon mostly on the two shows, less on the other things the writers/animators have posted that may or may not be canon, just to keep the point of reference more clean. I’ll still be playing a little fast and loose with the Hella-verse canon but I’ll try to stick with what we concretely know. For Kuroshitsuji I’ll be looking at the canon anime and manga.

Alright, then. Let’s get into why Grell Sutcliffe could absolutely fucking decimate Alastor.

First, let’s start off with what we know about sinners. We know they’re confined to the Pride ring, and that they’re ranked higher than most hellborn, minus the Sins and the Goetia. We know that they can gain power by dealing souls, but even a powerful overlord could get tanked by a Goetia. At least, without angelic weapons.

If we compare Alastor to Sebastian, I think we could all agree the winner would be Michaelis. Sebastian, as far as we know, is a hellborn, and while he doesn’t deal in souls the same way sinners do, he does consume them, which would make him powerful in the Hella-verse. He clearly thinks of himself as above other demons, which would imply that he either has a higher rank or is confident enough in his abilities to have maintained that mindset for centuries. He’s a demon powerful enough for humans to lay sacrifices in worship to him, and even though he clearly needs to eat souls, he has enough power that he only bothers being summoned for souls that strike his fancy, and ignores anything not worth his time. Whatever he is, he’s something powerful. And, likely, something ancient.

Sinners, on the other hand, have no way that we know of to travel to Earth. Maybe they could if they got a hold of something like the Grimoire or an Asmodean Crystal, but we don’t even know if they’re capable of wielding hellborn magic, or if they’d be able to actually cross through those portals. We’ve only seen Sebastian come to earth via summoning in Kuro, but given that the reapers are free to go where they choose and that Sebastian can seem to teleport, my guess is that the summoning is more like a phone call, and that he’s probably free to come up to Earth when he wants to.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Alastor, but against Sebastian? He wouldn’t stand a chance.

Who would stand a chance against Sebastian? I’m glad you asked! It’s Miss Sutcliffe.

Grell’s attraction towards Seb obviously means she doesn’t ever really fight him seriously, and Seb’s arrogance and awareness of her attraction means he doesn’t really take her seriously unless she’s actively being a threat to Ciel. But Sebastian is powerful, and none of the reapers really bat an eye at him. If anything, they treat him more like an inconvenience than anything else. That alone speaks volumes about how talented they are. If they were both fighting seriously against each other, I’m not necessarily sure Grell would win, but I think she would stand a decent chance, especially if Sebastian’s not going full eldritch form. Because as powerful as Sebastian is, he can still be harmed by a reaper. Or, more specifically, a reaper’s death scythe.

Now, let’s get in to what we know about reapers and sinners. They’re both similar: both humans who died and got sent to the afterlife in another realm as punishment for what they did while alive. As far as I know, sinners can only be killed by angelic weapons, and will just respawn if killed by another in hell. We know that reapers can be killed by various means, but in terms of lifespan are effectively immortal. Reapers, though, have something that sinners don’t. They have their death scythes.

There isn’t really an equivalent for death scythes in the Hella-Verse, so let’s focus on what we know about them in canon for Kuro. They can be made into many forms, anywhere from handheld sickles to traditional scythes to chainsaws. They can cut through anything and everything that stands in their path, except, of course, another death scythe.

Based on what we know about death scythes, I think it’s pretty safe to say that they’re stronger than angelic steel. Angelic steel can be melted down, repurposed, broken. Death scythes are unstoppable. Again, there’s no real equivalent, but it’s close.

Alastor is much like Sebastian, personality-wise. Arrogant, self assured, quick wit, sassy, sadistic and confident. I could go on, but I don’t need to. The main traits I need are all here.

Alastor fails to beat Adam because he doesn’t really take him seriously - he’s confident in his win from the moment Adam comes near him, and only really starts to doubt himself when Adam breaks his mic stand. He’s stunned enough by the sheer fact that Adam landed a hit that it gives the guy the chance to land a more lethal blow.

Now, I’m not saying Sebastian is above this. Hell, he was so confident he wouldn’t get touched by the reapers that the Undertaker was able to land a clean slice, right through him. The difference here, though, is that Sebastian was able to get back up and fight. Sure, it slowed him down some, but not so much that he couldn’t beat Ron and Grell into submission, get off the ship, and then beat thousands of undead afterwards.

Alastor does show a fondness for women, but I think Grell would be a little much. Still, though, I don’t know that he would take her seriously. It seems he doesn’t take the angels seriously, and while reapers aren’t the same thing, they look harmless, and very human. I don’t think for a second he’d be intimidated by them.

Grell, on the other hand would take Alastor very seriously. I think she would be charmed by his looks at first, especially since she’s so loves the color red, but I think once he showed himself to be an actual threat, she would put that aside and focus on beating him. She did think Undertaker was attractive, after all, but once he showed himself to be a threat, she redirected that energy into beating him.

With Alastor, I don’t think it’d be any different. I think his arrogance is what would do him in. The reapers are agile, more than a human would be, and they seem to be more durable than humans, too. And while Alastor’s tentacle-looking things may be a threat, we know that collecting cinematic records can be just as dangerous, if not more so. Grell doesn’t look intimidating, and unless you knew she was a reaper, you’d think she looked just like any other human. A regular human with a chainsaw wouldn’t seem like a threat to Alastor, and even if he knew what she was, do you really think he’d take her seriously? He’d probably think he’d have his fun with her. He’d avoid injury, sure, but he’d be overconfident, might even let her get too close. And even if he didn’t, she’d cut right through him. Those tendrils that kept Pentious at long range aren’t so effective when your enemy can slice right through them and evade them like they do this every day. Because, guess what? Grell works in the field. She does.

In conclusion, Grell Sutcliff would absolutely dominate Alastor. Sure, he might be able to beat her if he went full edtirch on her, but realistically, that just wouldn’t be the case. Grell Sutcliffe can and would obliterate Alastor. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk, this was way longer than I expected I would be rambling. Love u Grell Sutcliffe. May you Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss you way into the sunset and be sexy forever

Do you guys wanna hear my essay on why Grelle Sutcliff could fucking tank Alastor

#not a matter of ‘i think so’ but a matter of ‘she could’#im right #i’m right and you know it #again this is NOT Alastor slander I love him but I’M JUST SAYING #grell sutcliff #grelle sutcliff #black butler #kuroshitsuji #helluva boss #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #ars goetia #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor

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phantomrose96 · 4 years ago

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Fenton Fact

Danny leaned back against the red brick chimney of the Casper High roof, and he looked across the stretch of land rolling far off from the building top. For a place so off-limits, so hidden-away from the normal bustle of the school, the view really wasn’t anything special. Sure, the school was decently tall, but it overlooked the staff parking lot, and the empty Casper High tennis courts, and the back of a strip mall two blocks over with the recently-haunted laundromat.

Not that it mattered. It took more than tall-building-views to impress Danny anyway, even the nice ones. And he wasn’t up here for the view.

Danny let his eyes drift shut.

“Sup loner, room for one more?”

Danny startled, and it wasn’t Sam’s voice specifically that startled him. (He’d grown used to her bursting from his Fenton Phone earpiece during most nightly patrols.) He’d just lulled himself a bit too comfortably into the idea that no other human could follow him to the top of the locked rooftop of the Casper High building.

“Did I just surprise a ghost?” Sam asked. “Should I do it again with a ‘boo’?”

“Haha,” Danny answered with a fake chuckle. He blinked himself back to prickly awareness, drowsiness batted away like dust bunnies, and stared up at Sam. “I’m not surprised. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be on the roof. How did you even—”

Sam was a few steps ahead of him. In explanation, she waggled the Fenton-branded grappling hook gripped in hand.

Danny leaned back with a faux-exasperated sigh. “Since when do you even have a grappling hook?”

“Since I told your mom it would be a wildly cool line of gear to add to the Fenton brand.”

“Does this mean my mom now has a grappling hook too?”

“Yes. And your dad. And Jazz. And Tucker.”

“Great. When I go home and all the ceiling fans are torn down I’ll know why.”

A gentle silence lapsed over them, punctuated with the swell of fall wind.

“So…” Sam continued. “Can I sit here?”

“Huh?” Danny looked at her, anchoring his drifting thoughts once more. “Oh, yeah. I thought the ‘yeah’ was implied.” Danny shuffled a bit to the side, back still resting against the chimney. He patted the spot he cleared. “What am I gonna tell you? No?”

“Just making sure.” Sam stowed the grappling hook to the side of her belt and settled into the spot beside Danny, feet outstretched. “In case maybe you wanted some alone time.”

“’Alone time’ isn’t really something I get anymore. I’ve had about a hundred-too-many ghosts crash through my bedroom for that.”

“So why the roof?”

“Roof is more for uh…” Danny twirled his hand, “‘less adoring crowds’ time. ‘Less classmates ogling me’ time. You can stay so long as you don’t ask me to sign anything.”

“I was never interested in the parasocial or capitalistic value of celebrity signatures. Besides, you cross your ‘t’s weird.”

Danny replied with a half-hearted chuckle. His line of sight drifted into the middle-distance again, unfocused.

“Is it getting to be too much?” Sam asked.

“Hmm?” Danny answered, eyes shifting back to her.

Sam gestured broadly, hands and arms outstretched. “You know just. All this. Everything.”

“…Nah.”

Another small silence grew from the cracks in the concrete between them.

“Paulina and Star are looking for you. You know that, right?”

“Oh, are they?”

“Danny. You knew that.”

“Maybe.”

“…And you’re not interested in seeing what they want?”

“I figure Tucker is keeping them busy.”

“You’re unfortunately right.”

“Phantom Phacts?”

“Phantom Phacts.” Sam nodded. “I made him promise to leave out any embarrassing trivia from the trivia section.”

“Thanks for that,” Danny answered. “Is his presentation any good?”

“You think I’ve ever stuck around to hear it?”

“Fair.”

Sam pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and set her chin to her knees, staring forward.

“You’re really not interested in sitting with Star and Paulina for lunch?”

“Not really. Why? Is that bad?”

“No, it’s absolutely great. But I’m…” Sam shrugged, “surprised, I guess. I feel like usually you’d jump at the opportunity. And I kinda don’t think you’re refusing because you’ve suddenly recognized the banality of A-lister status.”

“Maybe that is what happened, you don’t know that. Down with capitalism, Sam.”

“Danny.” Sam tilted a fraction to face him. “I’m worried that this is all too much for you, and you just won’t admit it.”

Danny sat with the silence that followed. “I don’t think it’s too much. I’m just—I dunno. I mean. I’m just not feeling it.”

“…You can admit if it’s overwhelming, Danny. I’ll be the first to shut down ‘Phantom Phacts’ if it is.”

“Nah, nah let Tucker have his fun. He’s not the problem. It’s… I dunno.” Danny pushed himself taller against the chimney, upright now and unslumped. “It’s a little bit overwhelming, I guess, maybe. But it’s kind of what I expected. Maybe even a little easier than I was expecting. I thought I’d be dealing with a lot of Phantom-hate once everyone knew but, I guess that kind of died down a long time before everyone knew.”

“Valerie holding you at gunpoint in the cafeteria wasn’t Phantom-hate?”

“We’ve had a lot of good talks since then, okay?”

Sam let out a quiet laugh. “So then… why aren’t you sitting with the popular kids right now?”

“I just didn’t want to, I guess?”

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“It just didn’t really feel right.”

“Is it because of me?” Sam asked, another side-long glance cast to Danny. “Because you can sit with them. I’ll still make fun of you if you do, but you don’t have to… not sit with them because of me.”

“What? Huh—no. Nah, nah I mean I do care what you think Sam. But I mean if I wanted to be sitting with them then I would so. I mean. You don’t have to worry that it’s you.”

“So then what is it?”

Danny took a moment to answer.

“It’s just… it’s a feeling. I dunno. Like.” Danny spread his arms out. “The invitation is wrong? Or the invitation isn’t actually for me?”

“…The invitation is for Phantom instead?”

Pensive indecision set into Danny’s eyes. “That’s not totally it. Because I mean I AM Phantom. I’m not not me when I’m Phantom. Maybe I trash-talk a little more in ghost form but I’m not… not me. That’s still just me. You know that.”

“Right, yeah, no Danny. It just sounded like that’s what you were saying.” Sam let her legs slide out a few inches. “So what are you saying?”

Danny sat with the question. “When the news first picked up on Phantom, way back when—Inviso-Bill?—that wasn’t really anyone, you know? They made up some spooky icon to make the news about. Which was just like, whatever, not me. I didn’t even take ‘Inviso-Bill’ too personally because that just wasn’t me. And even when I stopped being an enemy and started actually being ‘Danny Phantom’… no one actually got it right, you know? They kind of came up with a character for me. Just some hero. I listen to the news and how they talk about me and I think, even now, I think ‘That isn’t me.’”

Danny pulled his knees in, a mirror to Sam, and stared down into his tattered jean fabric. “And when everyone learned I’m Phantom I guess I kind of expected them to be like ‘Oh it’s Fenton’ and then that fake version of Phantom would go away.” Danny raised his eyes to Sam, far more bothered than before. “…I think the opposite happened. They don’t look at Phantom and think ‘oh it’s Fenton’. They look at Fenton and think ‘oh it’s Phantom.’ I think Danny Fenton got put away. I think the person I was for 14 years doesn’t exist to them anymore. Whoever they invited to lunch isn’t me. He doesn’t exist. But I’m suddenly responsible for him. And it’s not even me.”

Danny paused. “And now I’ve been wondering like… how long until I disappoint them? You know? How long until I do something that makes them angry because I’m not doing the thing they expect ‘Phantom’ to do? How long until they start seeing there’s too much ‘Fenton’ in me and they start to hate me for it all over again? For them to really like me, I don’t think I can be me, and I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to be someone who doesn’t just disappoint everyone in the end.”

A long gust of wind swept between them, stealing away the seconds.

“…So now you’re hiding on the roof.”

“It was the easiest solution to my problem.”

“But not a lasting one, if you ever want to get down.” The wind settled, and Sam swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “…Do you care if you disappoint them?”

Danny shrugged. “I. Yeah. I think. I don’t—I don’t think I totally know for certain, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“Well, you’re not going to disappoint me, or Jazz, or Tucker—and if Tucker does act disappointed over any lost Phantom Phacts ventures I’ll whap him over the head. But I mean, we know who you are. We’re not going to be disappointed realizing you’re not ‘Phantom.’ The worst you can do is land right back where you started.”

“And what if I started acting like ‘Phantom’ instead. Would that disappoint you guys?”

“Do you want to act like ‘Phantom’?”

Danny paused. “…No. Not at all.”

“Then don’t. It’s that simple.” Sam stood, and she stretched until her back popped. “It’s not your responsibility to uphold whatever delusions people project onto you. I won’t hesitate to call them out on it. You know I’m good at being direct, and you know I’m even better at making enemies.”

“I don’t wanna be mean to them though when they’re finally being nice.”

“They’re not being nice, they’re projecting. If their niceness to you is conditional on you fitting to the box they created for you, that’s not nice, that’s manipulation, and it’s exactly the root of my ever-frothing disdain for popularity. It’s always some element about popular people that people latch on to, and they can fit the box that people give them, or they can reject it and find themselves wallowing amongst us outcasts. Don’t do that to yourself, Danny. Don’t live in their chains.” Sam tilted her head to Danny. “You spend all day trapping ghosts into tight little boxes and you can’t even recognize when it’s happening to you. I think you’d be better at spotting this.”

“It’s a cylinder, really. The thermos. It’s a cylinder. And don’t say ‘box’ so much. You might summon company.”

“You just said ‘box’ though.”

“I did say ‘box’.”

“Box.”

Sam laughed, noise trailing light on her lips. “…Feeling any better?”

“A little, I think… I still… I still think I... it's not as easy to just say 'I don't care if I disappoint them.' It's still scary. I don’t want to end up proving them right that they were right to hate me all along.”

“Are the opinions of Dash Baxter really the ones to be holding on a pedestal? Is his opinion of you really more important than what you think of yourself? You’ve been through this with the A-listers already. Don’t torture yourself again just because the door is wide open. I promise you Danny, it won’t make you happy.”

“So I should just do whatever makes me happy?”

“Every time.” Sam nodded.

"Even if I'm a total disappointing loser?"

"All the better."

"Even if I blow any chance I have with Paulina out the window?"

“Wouldn't have it any other way. Got any idea what you intend to say to her when she finds you?”

Danny paused. He pushed himself standing. “Maybe I could talk her ear off about NASA until she gets bored of me?”

“Excellent. Can I join? I have a lot to say about SpaceX and private capital encroaching on space exploration.”

“Does that apply to me? I’ve been to space. Am I private capital?”

“You’re not private capital.”

“Then what am I?”

“Annoying.” Sam locked arms with Danny, and dragged him along forward, her combat boots clunking against the rooftop. “And my friend. Come on. I’ll brief you on everything wrong with privately-owned space exploration while we’re rappelling down the side of the building with my sick and cool as hell grappling hook.”

“I can fly.”

“And I have a sick grappling hook. What’s your point.”

“It’s probably called a ‘Fenton Hook.’”

“Is that a Phantom Phact?”

Danny shook his head, and a smile pulled on his lips. “Nah. I think it’s a Fenton Fact.”

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #-lobs this over the fence-

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 3 years ago

Text

Harbouring a hybrid part 4 Jimin au ft Yoongi

2K words. TW: grievous bodily harm, manipulation, angst, bad state of mind….

“It’s getting late Y/n,” Yoongi sighs, the pair of you were sat on the hard concrete ground, knees up as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to go back,” you murmur, the raw broken tone to your voice seized his heart but he couldn’t let you stay here.

“Your parents are going to be wondering where you are human,” he says as he looks away from you. He hated sending you away, he hated watching you leave, but he had to, he had nothing to offer you here, nothing he could be for you because he was a hybrid. His jaw clenches hard as he stops himself from thinking of all the things he wants in life, everything he could never have, and what he wants the most is closest to him, and yet at the same time so fucking far away.

He shuffles away from you, standing to take a step but freezing when he hears you sniffle. He turns back to see your head hanging low, he doesn’t need to see the tears to know they’re there. Now he’s fighting the urge to comfort you, fists forming in his hands, hard gaze at your figure, directed at you but only because he couldn’t show it to the world.

He releases his breath, crouching down to your height, hand on your arms rubbing soothingly until you look up at him. Those eyes break his heart, it makes him want to cry out for you but he doesn’t. You hadn’t told him everything, but he knew the situation at home was killing you, he could see it every morning when you came from there and every evening before you had to go back. Running away wasn’t an option, especially not with him.

“We’ve got tomorrow little human,” he reassures you. “And the day after that, and the day after that.”

He smiles softly at you, it turns into a playful grin when you try smiling back, scoffing lightly at his words as you shake your head and look away. He doesn’t miss the heat running to the surface of your cheeks, its the only inviting warmth out here in the cold, but he pretends not to notice, for his sake more than yours.

“You’re a strong human Y/n,” he says sincerely. “Whatever they throw at you, whatever they put you through, you can deal with it, it’s not forever.”

Yoongi hated humans, despised everyone, you heard his rants a thousand times. But you’d never once heard him speak like this, he was sarcastic most of the time, the difference makes you gaze back at him. He made you want to cry again.

“You’ve got to endure it Y/n,” he encouraged. “Just a little bit longer, and you’re out…

And no matter what, I’m here.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t know what made you dream of a memory you had tried to push to the back of your mind for the past decade. No good came from remembering, he had told you that once, but you couldn’t let him go, you couldn’t let any of them go. Your crusted eyes tried to open in the light but they were so heavy you couldn’t manage it. You were still tied to the chair, your bones aching, your body burning under every bruise and cut you had.

Maybe you deserved this, maybe this was your punishment in failing to save the hybrids that haunted you. You’d take it, whether it atoned for your sins or not, you’d take every ounce of pain they sent you, anything to keep Jimin safe.

You hear the door to the interrogation room you’re in open a crack, light pouring through it as it hid the person behind it. You wince as you try to raise your head proudly to meet them, the venom already shooting out of your eyes. You wondered how many countless people were tortured here, how many slipped their tongue failing to protect the hybrids they harboured or hid. You wouldn’t be one of them, no matter what they planned for you, they could cut off your limbs before you ever gave Jimin up.

Whoever lingers by the door flicks the light switch on, the room flooding with artificial light, blinding you momentarily. You groan at the sensation, your head spinning as the figure walks towards you. As much as it hurt, you raise your head to meet them, jaw clenched as you take her in. The last person you expected to greet you was your old best friend, you can see your hard expression falter into surprise in her eyes.

“Just tell them where he is Y/n,” Jessica says softly, as if she were being kind in her advice. “Then all of this can stop.”

You don’t say a word, an unfathomable rage burning through your body at her words, did she seriously think this was all okay? This to their own daughter for their greater fucking good.

“Fuck you,” you spit. They would have to kill you.

She sighs, in her mind you were so naive and so foolish, over hybrids? You were inflicting this morose pain on yourself over a hybrid?

“If you don’t want to tell them where the tabby is, tell them about the others,” she insists. “About whatever criminal undercover organisation youve joined.”

“Why are you here?” It hurts to frown but you do, your brain slowly waking in realising they must’ve sent her, another tactic to get you to spill. You bite your tongue, you’ve already spoken more words to her than you had the interrigator, or your parents, if they were watching they’d think this was the right way to get you to talk, and in all honesty, you’d rather take the torture than talk to your so called best friend.

You keep your silence, even as she begins to talk louder and louder, screaming at you. You keep your mouth shut, they weren’t taking your hybrid.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jimin, if you walk out of this door everything is over,” Jongin tries to placate the cat hybrid, his palms raised as his back is to the front door.

The feline growls, teeth bared to the human. There’s banging coming from the bedroom the human locked his own hybrid in, knowing two aggressive hybrids were not a good combination, even if all Sehun wanted to do was protect his own human. But Jongin doesn’t believe the tabby will hurt him, not with the way you had described him, not with that fondness in your eyes.

“Get out of my way,” he snarls, eyes unblinking in their stare.

“Listen to me, if you leave it won’t save her,” he desperately tries to explain. “Think Jimin! Hybrid Patrol are everywhere, if they find you, and they will very quickly, everything she’s sacrificed for you goes to waste.”

“I can save her,” despite his conviction, the human thinks the hybrid must know his words are not true.

“You can’t,” he shakes his head sadly. “They’re not just after you Jimin, they’re after all of us, that’s why they have her. She knew it was inevitable they would find you both, so she made the only sacrifice that would save you.”

The hybrid breathes slow deep breaths, the tears he’s trying so hard to battle away threatening to become uncovered now the hopeless feeling was settling in once again.

“I can’t leave her,” Jimin confesses, an uncontrolled yowl spilling from his throat. “She’s my human, she’s my Y/n. She's my mate.”

The human’s eyes widen as he takes in his words, a realisation that should’ve come sooner if he had let himself think about it.

“She's my mate!” he cries openly, a shattering feeling still resonating through his chest. It didn’t matter how many times he broke inside, the feeling came again and again and again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sit in the room with you in silence, watching you. You don’t know how much time had passed until they broke it.

“Who would have thought my daughter would’ve turned into a hybrid whore,” she says solemnly. “Did we really teach you nothing?”

Her tone almost sounds sad, disappointed, as if you had received a bad grade in school. You hear her sigh, refusing to look at them while they pondered over their own failure.

“This is because you didn’t let her join the hunt,” she snaps at him. “You were too soft on her.”

“She was a child,” he sighed. “This is because you let her play in the park alone, that’s where she met them, that’s where she befriended them.”

Their argument turns into an annoying buzz in your ears, your mind elsewhere to distract you from the pain in your body as well as the presence in the room. You picture Jimin, his happy face beaming at you, or you try to at least, that smile he wears turns into a look of hate, a fire in his eyes that screamed at your betrayal. You missed him so much but you couldn’t handle the glare on his face.

I did it for you Jiminie, you think to the conjured image presented in your mind. Anything to keep you safe.

His face blurs as you begin to lose consciousness again, it kept coming and going in waves, the wounds on your skin too much for your brain to fathom. You think it's a safety mechanism of some sort, that or you were so weak and tired that you couldn’t hold anything together. When your eyes flutter closed and a light sleep takes you again, you see yourself walk towards the figure, hand stretched out to touch him. The face becomes clearer once more, but it isn’t Jimin. It’s the other feline you failed to save, you can feel your heart in your throat, the heavy guilt weighing on your bones as you touch his face.

“Yoongi,” you whisper to the ghost haunting your dream, feeling your heart split in two the way it had since Jimin came into your life.

He stares at you stoic, but you can read his thoughts, and you cry for his forgiveness.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jongin knew the hybrids they saved imprinted on their humans, they all knew it, it was a natural thing to happen, a reflex of their synapses. The first human to show them real warmth, it was almost a parental bond. This was what he assumed Jimin had done to you, imprinted… he didn’t realise Jimin had chosen you as his mate. It wasn’t unheard of, a human mate for a hybrid, but it was a problem. In this situation at least.

The phone pressed to his ear rings and rings, the male human begging internally for their leader to pick up. It goes to voicemail once again and Jongin is left helpless.

A hybrid without its mate… This dilemma was becoming more complicated by the second.

“Come on hyung,” he grumbles stressfully as he dials again. Third time lucky right?

“Kai we call for emergencies,” Jun-myeon sighs through the phone, he already had Baekhyun stealing and using Kyungsoo’s phone throughout the day, he was already on his last straw.

“Hyung, Y/n is his mate,” he utters quickly through the receiver, forgoing your codename in the statement by accident.

There's a palpable silence that follows, almost making Jongin think the line was cut, but the big breath out that comes through the line tells him it was not.

“Is he showing any symptoms?” His voice is stern, almost business like if it werent for the urgent tone.

“I-I…” he hesitates as he thinks through the answer before sighing. “He’s grieving, I can’t tell.”

“Shit…” Jun-myeon groans. “Let me call D.O, we were working on a plan to get Echo out… looks like we need to do this sooner rather than later.”

“What do I do with Jimin?”

“Get Sehun to keep an eye on him, as soon as he senses a change in his scent or any symptoms, call me.”

“Okay,” Jongin nods as he thinks the instructions through.

“Kai…” their leader hesitates. “If it’s hybrid flu you can handle it, if its… fuck- if Sehun smells any bitterness... You lock that hybrid up.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @unicornbabylover @imjustreadingig @sweeneyblue1 @effielumiere @jimijimificrec

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collecting-stories · 3 years ago

Text

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”

“Said I stare at you all the time.”

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”

“Why? You going somewhere?”

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #twd fanfic #twd fic #twd fanfiction #collecting stories imagine

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the-dao-of-the-zerg · 2 years ago

Text

> no one has any concrete evidence for that, just their own subjective interpretations of the data so far.

Can we agree that while there’s obviously no definitive answer, one of the answers is more statistically likely? Once we start seeing it slow down, that assumption changes, obviously! But we seem to pretty clearly be in a fast segment right now. I would be surprised if DALL-E is the end of the road.

> There’s an alternate narrative here (that argumate keeps referencing), which is that what we’re actually doing is finding out which problems are easy.

I don’t think that’s at all fair. What we’re doing is finding out which problems are easily solved given our current tool kit. Basic object recognition was an extremely difficult task for decades! And now, suddenly, with one new tool, we have an AI that understands it enough to make art. GPT is an incredible leap above anything that we had made prior to LLMs. Chess was a hard problem for a while. Go was considered quite possibly unsolvable.

When you get something that suddenly solves multiple hard problems in a field that has already explored the limits of “throw more funding at it”, that tells me we’re onto something revolutionary.

> Your choice of metaphor here assumes your conclusion.

The metaphor is meant to illustrate the underlying statistics. If you notice a strong trend, it makes more sense to assume the trend will hold for a while, slowly peter off, and then eventually die out.

It is extremely unusual for something to revolutionize a field and solve multiple hard problems, and then to just hit a brick wall and stop completely. We haven’t seen any warning signs that things are “petering off” yet, either. So if this is a normal curve, then we know we’re somewhere in the middle. I’d call it a safe bet that there’s at least one or two more revolutionary solutions coming from LLMs. I would be very surprised if DALL-E is where things stall out for the next decade.

I can’t tell whether we really disagree on those odds.

---

Maybe the next revolution from LLMs takes five years, and then we start to consider we’re hitting the tail end of the curve. But until then, we’ve got actual information about where we are; we keep solving problems that are hard, and which surprises even experts in the field.

It took us 40 years to write a Chess program that could beat grand masters. We’ve only been failing at self driving cars for a decade.

idk a lot of people seem convinced that AI is just going to keep getting better with no ceiling, or a very high ceiling. and like, maybe! certainly not impossible. but we don't know where on the logistic curve we are, and anyone who claims they know for sure is lying.

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theminecraftbox · 3 years ago

Note

Do you think either Sam or Quackity will ever regret what they did to Dream?

I can easily see Q recognizing that the torture was awful and ultimately pointless; hell, he seems to already understand that. But he despises Dream in such a visceral way that it's hard to imagine him feeling guilt, let alone expressing it openly. The most I think we'd get is passive agreement with whatever Dream insults him with, or a very backhanded apology.

Sam. Well. If Ponk cutting him off (no pun intended) and that role-reversal in the box didn't knock some sense into him, I don't know what will. If he feels any guilt at all, he's become a master of burying it in cognitive dissonance. And if Dream's hypothetical future plans cause any harm, all his progress toward self-awareness is going to be gone and he'll be right back to the good/bad dichotomy.

I also wonder how Dream might react to this hypothetical remorse. He seemed pretty contemptuous of the "oh, I did that, but I'm so sorry" mentality. I don't think he'd react well, and he'd definitely doubt its sincerity. But who knows, the guy is an emotional black box. (Pls let me crack open his mind and look at how those wonky little gears turn)

/dsmp /rp

For Sam: we’re going to get that answer very soon. He is at rock bottom. There is no way for him to have his actions ground further into his face (literally) than they just have been. If he doesn’t show any self-awareness now, I cannot imagine he ever will. And even in the case where Sam extends actual remorse/apologies to people like Ponk, Ranboo, etc: Dream is going to be dead fucking last on that list, thanks both to the horrifying severity of what Sam did to him and because of how evil Sam believes he is.

I think Sam feels guilt and has always felt guilt about the torture, which he denies as hard as he possibly can. I think Sam feels no guilt and will never feel guilt about the starvation isolation dehumanization etc., the less straightforward abuses that he committed himself, and feels little need to deny his feelings around those things.

I also think we’ve already seen the closest Sam’s going to get to giving Dream an apology, when he said in the first prison stream, “the thing with Quackity is… regrettable, sure, but...” This was both a major concession—really Sam’s first sincere admission that what happened in the prison was in fact Fucked Up!—and also an abdication of his personal involvement in Dream’s abuse—he’s saying Quackity’s actions were regrettable, not his own, and furthermore he’s still justifying the torture. And we saw Dream’s disgusted response to this.

As for Quackity: he’s a less straightforward case! Like you mention, I think Quackity is already well-aware of how his cruelty got him nothing in concrete terms. But I don’t think this has translated yet into anything quite like regret, much less into active guilt.

I think it’s significant to Quackity that his project with Dream was, on paper, a failure! Quackity didn’t get the information he wanted; and not just that—he gave up. He stopped visiting when he said he wouldn’t; he blinked and Dream didn’t. Sure, he had his excuses, that he was getting sick of the process, that he had other shit to do, that Techno was there. But that doesn’t change the fact that Dream outlasted him and they both know it.

So because of that, I think it’s important to Quackity to force himself to dwell on the ways in which his torture of Dream wasn’t pointless. What did it accomplish? Not nothing—Dream never gave him the book, but Dream still screamed and begged and cried and called him “sir”. That ain’t nothing. There’s a reason that by the time he’s forcing Dream to write to Techno, Quackity’s far less focused on the book (something he’s lost most hope of getting) and far more focused on making Dream pay, because one of those things is still extremely achievable. Quackity still held that power over him; neither of them is going to soon forget it. Quackity still gave Dream something he believes Dream deserved and still deserves, the only real comeuppance he thinks Dream’s ever gotten.

It’s still important to him to think of torture as a tool of the strong; cruelty as the only kind of power that Quackity’s gotten any kind of results from.

That being said, it’s not hard for me to imagine Quackity regretting what he did and how it changed him/tainted him. But I also think it’s something he’s proud of: not of the acts themselves, but of what it says about his backbone, how it says he’s got a strong stomach, how he’s willing to do the dirty work and put his money where his mouth is. No spinelessness or hypocrisy; everybody’s always talking a big fucking game about how they wanna make Dream pay, but Quackity’s the only one who had the guts to go and do it, look the consequences in the eye and sacrifice his own morality to the cause.

And like you say, his hatred of Dream is such that it is inconceivable to me at this point that he’d regret Dream feeling the pain that he caused. I think there’s a critical distinction between those two things in his head, between Quackity regretting blood on his hands versus regretting Dream’s blood being spilt. Quackity can hold two convictions at the same time: that torture is in general hideously immoral, and that Dream deserved it nonetheless.

Maybe he’ll bring himself to regret torturing Dream; I doubt he’ll ever regret that Dream was tortured, yknow? Especially because the memory of Dream’s weakness, Dream begging, Dream at his lowest, is going to be treasured evidence to hold against him when Quackity sees Dream again and he’s once more powerful and terrifying and untouchable. (If Dream is again strong and monstrous, then what Quackity did was not enough to have an effect and therefore not worth feeling bad over; if Dream shows evidence of weakness and fear, then what Quackity did was clearly a step in the right direction of defanging and subduing him.)

And in any case, even in the most extreme case where Quackity privately decides that the torture was completely unconscionable and he’s sorry for every single second of it, Quackity would rather be tortured himself than admit that (weakness, humanity, indecisiveness, pity) to Dream’s face. He could easily admit to Dream that the torture was horrible, but that would be followed by “and frankly I should have gone further, you deserved worse, you fucking animal, and I wish I could tie you down again right this second.” Dream would be unsurprised.

If Dream’s threatening his friends or country, Quackity could probably muster an apology. It might have a kernel of sincerity, maybe even more than a kernel. But that would go over with Dream like a lead balloon.

#c!dream and c!sam #c!dream and c!quackity #prison trio #abuse.#torture.#long post #sometimes I think about Q and get kinda sad #in the sense that. Wow. this lil dude could have chosen any coping mechanism and he really went for sadism huh?

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mysyerious · 3 years ago

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CIGARETTES & DIOR 3

PREVIOUS | NEXT

beta read by my beloved @raelwrites

—enemies (?) steve harrington X reader, follows along with 'the flea and the acrobat' and 'the monster'

[if anyone wants to be tagged let me know]

When 1983 entered November, there weren’t very many things you expected to occur. Some fights perhaps, a date if you were lucky, academic pressure. What you weren’t planning for, and surely what none of residents of Hawkins were planning for, was a funeral.

Sure, you had a reason to wear the all-black suit you had at the back of your closet, but it also meant having to acknowledge that something was seriously wrong in Hawkins.

“This is where we know for sure it’s been, right,” Jonathan said, tilting the paper he held at an angle so that both you and Nancy could see without moving from your crouch behind the concrete.

“So, that’s…” Nancy points at one of the red crosses.

“Steve’s house. And that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike, and that’s my house.”

“It’s all so close,” you whisper, and Jonathan agrees,

“I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s… it’s not travelling far.”

“So that means there’s gotta be some, like, place it rests, right? Because if no one has seen the thing yet apart from us…”

“You want to go out there,” Nancy states like it’s obvious.

“We might not find anything,” Jonathan says, though Nancy is quick to defend,

“We found something.” She tilts her head at you, and you grimace as the creature flashes through your mind. “And if we do see it… then what?”

“We kill it.”

You snort. “What, with our hands? Gonna strangle it to death?”

They stay silent before Jonathan stands up, folds the makeshift map up and walks away with a purpose.

“Wh— hey! Jon—” you cut yourself off with a groan, standing to follow.

You stop at the edge of the cemetery, where the cars are parked and watch as Jonathan stands to rifle through the glove box of one of the cars.

“What are you doing?” Nancy questions.

“Just give me a second.”

You look around, noticing a few faces turn back to look at you three. “We’re lookin’ real suspicious I won’t lie, that second better end soon Jonathan.”

“Are you serious?” Nancy suddenly exclaims and you turn around only to be met with the sight of Jonathan moving a gun from the compartment to his jacket pocket.

“Oh, what the— how do you even have that?” you gawk, looking around a second time to make sure no one was close enough to see nor hear.

“What? You wanna find that thing and take a photo? Yell at it? It’s like you said, we need weapons.” Jonathan slams the door shut but Nancy voices her disagreement,

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Nance, c’mon, realistically, we need weapons. Sure, I don’t really want to know how Jonny here actually has a gun, but I’m glad he does.”

He nods at you. “It’s the best we’ve got. What? You can tell someone, but they’re not gonna believe you. You know that.”

“Your mom would.”

“She’s been through enough.”

“She deserves to know.”

You move over to Nancy and place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing enough to grab her attention. “We’ll tell her, Nance, but… maybe not right now.” You gesture lightly at the cemetery behind you.

“We’ll tell her when this thing is dead.”

“Woah! Hey— watch where you swing that thing, damn!” you jump out of the way of Nancy’s swing, narrowly avoiding a bat to the stomach.

“Sorry, —” she grunts your name, stepping into another swing, “just practising.”

You laugh lightly, skimming your fingers along the other wooden accoutrements by the wall only to jump again when an unfortunately familiar voice shouts, “Woah, woah, woah! Hey, woah, woah…”

Steve fucking Harrington. You sigh.

“What are you doing here?” Nancy asks, out of breath.

“What are you doing?” he deflects.

“Nothing.”

“I hope that’s not meant for me.” Oh. You grin and grab a golf club.

“Ah, fuck, you figured it out.” You hop closer, golf club in hand. “It was gonna be a surprise, but now we can’t trash your car now that you know.” You frown.

“What?” Nancy’s head swings around to you before she shoves you slightly. You giggle and move the club into a swinging position to the right and behind your head, posing. “No. no, I was just… thinking about joining softball.”

Again, you giggle. The club now rests on the floor, being used by you as a cane.

Steve kicks the club and you stagger. Fuck you too, then.

“Well, uh… listen I’m really sorry. I mean, even before you threatened me with the baseball bat.” He leans against the car. “I panicked and… I mean, I was a total dick.”

You snort and fumble with the shovel on the wall behind you. Understatement of the century.

“Did you get in trouble with your parents?”

“Totally, but… you know, who cares? Screw ‘em. Any news about Barbara?”

The shovel slips from your hands with a loud clang. You make no move to pick it up.

“Parents heard from her? Or?” Steve continues after a glance at you.

You pick the shovel up with shaking hands, hanging it back up before turning around to face the couple with what you hope is a straight face.

“Hey, listen. Why don’t we, uh, why don’t we catch a movie tonight, you know? Just kinda pretend everything’s normal for a few hours. All the right moves is still playing. You know, with your lover boy from risky business?”

You snort but stay silent. The invite was for Nancy.

You haven’t been invited to watch a movie since March.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You know, Carol thinks I actually kinda look like him. What do you think?” Steve turns his face side to side before bursting into song, “just take those old records off the shelf, I’ll sit and listen to them by myself.” The urge to run and grab a camcorder increased ten-fold.

You shuffle closer, hands in your pockets stifling the trembles.

“I just, I… I don’t think I can. I’ve been really busy with this whole funeral thing and… with my brother, it’s been really hard on him.” You can practically hear the soft emotional music that should be playing right now.

“Yeah, sure. Sure, yeah, yeah.” Steve’s face falls. Fuck, he looks like someone just kicked his puppy.

“So…”

You groan, throwing your head against Nancy’s shoulder. “I’ll go with you…” you finish with an exaggerated sigh.

Steve stares at you, his eyebrows slowly raise. “You’d— yeah? I thought you hated me.”

“Well, you look about as pathetic as a wet puppy right now, so yeah, I’d go with you.”

You glance at Nancy but she’s grinning. It doesn’t fill you with confidence.

“I think that’s a great idea. You guys can bond.”

Hold on. Nobody was meant to agree here.

“Er— what time, then?” Steve asks, looking moderately less sad.

Okay, minimise the damage. Let him down gently. Tell him you were joking.

“If you drove here, we can go right now.”

Wait a minute.

“Alright then.” He starts to walk backwards, staring at you.

Fuck.

Amongst the list of idiotic things you’ve done, getting into the same car as Steve Harrington— getting into Steve Harrington’s car, has got to be at least top 5.

“I’ll be honest though; you have a hell of a nice car.” you run your hands across the dash. “Permission to pilfer?” you point to the glove compartment.

He laughs. “Thanks, yeah sure, it’s only mixtapes in there anyway.”

You flick the latch quickly and pull some of the tapes into your lap.

“Right, lets see here— dude, whats with the ABBA?” you put back a few of their tapes and continue, whispering the names as you go, “Springsteen, Bowie… Madonna?”

“Nance’s.”

“Sure.”

You give up and push a random tape into the receiver. As good as new starts to play and you chuckle when you recognize it as an ABBA tape. Voulez-vous.

The album reaches the beginning three ‘ah’s’ of Angeleyes when Steve pulls into the theatre parking lot.

“You’re grabbing the tickets; I’ll get the popcorn and drinks. We meet at the entrance to the screens.” Steve nods at each instruction.

You shove your hands into your jacket pockets and quickly enter the building. The smell hits you first, the noise follows. Thankfully, the queue for the concession stand is a total of two people so when Steve walks in, tickets in hand, you’re already waiting for your popcorn to be made and your drinks to be filled.

“Ready?” he asks when the buckets and drinks are placed on the counter.

You sigh as you grab your ticket, food, and drink. “As I’ll ever be.”

You groan with relief as you walk out of the double door entrance. Sitting in the dark for an hour and a half will never be as bad as sitting in the dark for an hour and a half next to Steve Harrington.

“That was like, the most boring movie I’ve ever seen. And you actually wanted to watch that crap? It’s just a jock movie where nothing happened.” You jab a thumb behind you at the theatre,

Steve laughs at your pain and grabs your bucket to pour his leftover popcorn into. “Nancy likes the lead; thought she’d want to see it. Didn’t know what you’d want to, so I just got tickets for it.”

You shrug. “Don’t really get to go watch movies all that often, last time was like a good couple months back so…”

Steve makes an inquisitive hum, and you look over as he chews through a handful of popcorn. “Well, we’ve got to fix that. Next new movie we’re gonna go watch it, yeah?”

“Aren’t you sweet.” You snort but don’t answer. “Pass the popcorn.”

“No. Not until you agree.” He holds the bucket as far away from you as he can, taking a further few steps away.

“Oi—” you move closer, making a grab for the bucket to no avail. “Just— pass the bucket!”

“I already said no. C’mon —” he grins as he says your name, “I know you want to say yes.”

You try not to think about how right he is.

“Just pass the corn dumbass— oh fuck, watch out!” you try to warn him but it’s too late and Steve walks backwards into a passer-by. The bucket is juggled between his hands before you quickly reach over and save it from falling.

“Sorry!” you both apologise and speed walk away, shoulders shaking from barely contained laughter.

“Fine, fine. Yeah, we’ll go watch the next release.” You snort when Steve fist bumps the sky. “Why’d you have to park so far away, dweeb?”

“The car is literally in front of you.”

“Yeah, but it could have been in front of me about 5 cars back.” You get in the passenger seat and cradle the popcorn bucket in between your thighs.

“Alright, then, Stevie. Next stop, my house. I’m pretty sure I have some popcorn at home to top the bucket up if you want.” When he doesn’t reply, you look over.

He’s about as red as a strawberry.

“Uh— Steve? You good?”

The teen nods, hums, and starts the car.

“Yeah, yeah— hey, listen… I’ll uh, I’ll drop you home but I gotta go— got a uh, got a thing with Tommy and Carol soon.”

“Next time, then. Theatre popcorn is better anyway.”

On Saturday you wake to frenzied pounding on your front door. You groan, turn over to the other side of the bed, and try to chase the fading dream.

When the knocking escalates from voiceless disturbance to frantic shouts of your name between knocks, you huff and stumble out of bed. A discarded sweater gets tossed on on the way to the front door.

“Did you know?!” is the greeting you get the second you crack the door open. You squint against the bright morning light and the face of Steve Harrington becomes slightly less blurry after you rub your eyes.

“Mh… did I know what, Harrington?” you step aside to let the teen in, closing the door on the November chill.

“Nancy and Jonathan,” he practically spits the names out.

“Doesn’t help, angel eyes, what about them?” you yawn.

“They’re— they’re fucking sleeping together.” Your mouth snaps shut.

“Uh, excuse me? Did I hear that right?”

“Yeah. Nancy— that fucking bitch, she’s sleeping with Byers,” He says through gritted teeth.

“Okay, one, don’t call Nancy a bitch in front of me, and two, how the fuck do you know this, exactly?” You slap Steve’s arm as you walk past him.

“Fucking saw that freak cosying up with Nancy in her bedroom.” His words have you pausing.

“Last night?” you resume your walk to the kitchen. Steve follows.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus… eggs or pancakes?”

“What?”

You turn to him. “Eggs or pancakes, Harrington? It’s a simple question.”

“Um, pancakes?”

“Good choice.” You rifle through the cupboards for mixing bowls and a whisk. “If I’m getting through this conversation, I’m making food.”

You hear Steve sit down as you grab the ingredients from the fridge. He clears his throat.

“Did you know?” it’s a whisper, but you hear it clear as day in the relatively quiet kitchen.

“Mhh, no… well, it depends. Did I know they were hanging out? Yeah, I was there with them half the time. But did I know that my best friend was apparently a cheater? That one’s a no.” You ladle the batter to distract yourself. “What did you even see?”

Steve groans in his seat at the table, shuffles around a bit, and hits his head against the wall behind him. “Byers was practically all over her.” You can hear the disgust in his voice. “It was just— they were… arh! Hold on…”

“You sure they weren’t just, I don’t know, talking? Friends do that too, you know.”

When you hear his steps moving to you, you turn, only to almost collide your body against his.

“Woah— hey now… hot pan behind me. Careful.” You move away, laughing a little to ease the pang of something that shot up your spine.

“Okay, so—” Harrington just moves closer when you step away. “If you picture me as Byers, you as Nance…” Steve presses his side into yours, leans even closer to whisper in your ear, “would you talk to your friends like this?”

You freeze.

“Uh—” this can’t be happening. “Not, uh… no. Not usually.” You whisper back.

He moves away. You catch yourself before you can sway towards his body heat.

“That’s what I thought.” Steve scoffs. “Bet that’s why she blew me off yesterday. Too busy blowing Byers to watch a movie with her boyfriend.” You snort at the alliteration.

“Yeah, sure, alright. Well, if you want—” you push a plate of pancakes towards Steve. “We can go confront her about it later— eat.” You drop a fork onto the plate. “And if she says nothin’, you can go bully Jonny for an answer or something.”

“Jonny?” Steve whispers.

“Everyone’s gotta have a nickname, angel eyes. Syrups in the cupboard next to you.”

When you hear shouts from the alley in front of you accompanied by Nancy’s voice, you start running.

“Hey! What the fuck, guys?” you shout, sprinting down the alley when you realise you recognise the two idiots fighting. “Nance, Nancy what— what the hell happened?” you pant, wincing whenever you hear a fist connecting with skin.

“Me and Jonathan, we were just— we were in the store and, Jonathan, stop! Stop! You’re gonna hurt him!” Nancy attempts to explain but quickly overlooks it in favour of attempting to move closer. You quickly grab her by the shoulders to hold her back from the swinging fists.

“Guys! Jesus, Jonathan, stop!” you move away from Nancy and grab at Jonathan, but as Tommy grabs a hold of Steve, Jonathan manages to push you away.

Nancy pulls you out of the way when police officers run down the alley. One continues after Tommy, Carol, and Steve and the other gets punched by Jonathan.

“I got this one!” the officer shouts to his partner, having eventually subdued Jonathan against the car and cuffed him.

“Jesus, when I said bully Jonathan, I didn’t mean fucking fight him…” you huff, and when Nancy throws you a confused glare, you backtrack quickly, “Steve didn’t talk to you?” she shakes her head. “Yeah, alright. Fuck, I’ll tell you later.”

“What are you even doing out here, —?” Nancy questions.

“I could ask you the same thing, c’mon.” You wrap an arm around her and pull her to follow the officer. “You’re not hurt, right? They didn’t do anything to you?”

She shakes her head. You sigh in relief.

“Tommy just said some things, and then Steve said stuff, and it just— escalated.” You don’t ask for further explanation. If Jonathan beat Steve bloody, it must’ve been bad.

The short ride to the station is a quiet one. You ache to strike up a conversation but whenever you glance at Nancy’s crestfallen expression and Jonathan’s dejected stare at the cuffs, the words die in your throat.

When you reach the station, you and Nancy are redirected to the nurse for ice. Since neither of you actually did anything apart from be witnesses, you could escape talking to the cops right now.

As the lady pulls a tray of ice cubes out of the fridge and a towel out of the desk drawer, Nancy asks, “Do you think we’ll be out of here soon?”

“You, yes. Him, no,” she responds, “he assaulted a police officer.”

“Well, how long are you gonna keep him?”

“You and your boyfriend have big plans, do you?”

You choke on your spit.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Nancy says quickly.

“I think you better tell him that.” You thank every god you can that Steve ran away.

At Nancy’s confusion, the lady continues, “only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And that damn stupid.”

She places the towel of ice in Nancy’s hand and the teen quickly takes her leave. You follow with only a nod at the lady.

Jonathan looks about as pathetic as you had left him at the desk, and you pat his back lightly when you pass.

“Found some ice,” Nancy says, lifting the make-shift ice pack to rest against Jonathan’s face.

“Everything okay?”

You say nothing. Observe the pair. The lady’s words echo in your head, tangling with the encounter with Steve in the morning.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

No, Nancy, everything is most certainly not fine.

#cigarettes & dior #steve harrington x enemy reader #steve x enemy reader #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader

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